Asato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walksonrooftops) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2013-07-26 09:02 am
walksonrooftops) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-07-26 09:02 am
(no subject)
CHARACTERS: Konoe & Asato
LOCATION: Their place, deck 1 room 88.
WARNINGS: None right now
SUMMARY: A post-training chat turns out just as you might expect of TQ's saddest cats
They did well today.
This afternoon's practice hadn't been dedicated to simple mastery of the sword, important as that is. There are times when it pays to spend an entire day simply growing more attuned to one another, learning to feel for the energy that thrums through the air in the gardens while the song escalates higher and higher. It's a call and a response that's a little stronger each time they try, the swing of his sword heavier when the the song bears down with it, the shift of his step swifter, his senses sharper, and through it all he's come to learn to act with Konoe, side by side, supporting one another.
When he tangles that wavelength with his own and matches it to the finest fluctuation, for however short such a match lasts, it's incredible--but the rush of force is quick to exhaust him, and by the time they're done, Asato's thrust his sword into the ground and rests his forearms against the cross-guard, head lowered and shoulders heaving through his gasps for breath. No better sign of a job well-done.
After a quick shower, he returns home with Konoe still at his side, glowing with quiet contentment and generous in his praise for his Sanga, spoken or delivered in bumps of his head against Konoe's shoulder. In their room, he lays his sword across his lap for inspection and, if needed, for a polish, but his attention to his task drifts all too soon as he remembers the song and everything it conveys, everything it means or could mean.
"I felt it more, this time." He looks up and to Konoe, still trying to sort through what, precisely, he felt. A song of battle is rarely light and ephemeral as laughter, but sometimes it's heavier with anger or sorrow or sheer determination, and he's not sure what it was now. Perhaps he shouldn't be concerned, but this is Konoe. It doesn't take much...
"More than any other practice we've had. I want to... I want to understand it more."
Understand him more, because for all they've shared and all they've confided, they still spent so much of their lives apart and have experienced much more than they can tell each other in the short time they've been together, no matter how much they might want to. And he does want to. He wants to try, at least, not just for the song or for his Sanga, but for this cat who's shown him so much. For Konoe.
The more he understands, the stronger he can stand when he raises his sword to protect what he treasures most. That's all the incentive he needs.
LOCATION: Their place, deck 1 room 88.
WARNINGS: None right now
SUMMARY: A post-training chat turns out just as you might expect of TQ's saddest cats
They did well today.
This afternoon's practice hadn't been dedicated to simple mastery of the sword, important as that is. There are times when it pays to spend an entire day simply growing more attuned to one another, learning to feel for the energy that thrums through the air in the gardens while the song escalates higher and higher. It's a call and a response that's a little stronger each time they try, the swing of his sword heavier when the the song bears down with it, the shift of his step swifter, his senses sharper, and through it all he's come to learn to act with Konoe, side by side, supporting one another.
When he tangles that wavelength with his own and matches it to the finest fluctuation, for however short such a match lasts, it's incredible--but the rush of force is quick to exhaust him, and by the time they're done, Asato's thrust his sword into the ground and rests his forearms against the cross-guard, head lowered and shoulders heaving through his gasps for breath. No better sign of a job well-done.
After a quick shower, he returns home with Konoe still at his side, glowing with quiet contentment and generous in his praise for his Sanga, spoken or delivered in bumps of his head against Konoe's shoulder. In their room, he lays his sword across his lap for inspection and, if needed, for a polish, but his attention to his task drifts all too soon as he remembers the song and everything it conveys, everything it means or could mean.
"I felt it more, this time." He looks up and to Konoe, still trying to sort through what, precisely, he felt. A song of battle is rarely light and ephemeral as laughter, but sometimes it's heavier with anger or sorrow or sheer determination, and he's not sure what it was now. Perhaps he shouldn't be concerned, but this is Konoe. It doesn't take much...
"More than any other practice we've had. I want to... I want to understand it more."
Understand him more, because for all they've shared and all they've confided, they still spent so much of their lives apart and have experienced much more than they can tell each other in the short time they've been together, no matter how much they might want to. And he does want to. He wants to try, at least, not just for the song or for his Sanga, but for this cat who's shown him so much. For Konoe.
The more he understands, the stronger he can stand when he raises his sword to protect what he treasures most. That's all the incentive he needs.