Marcus listens, patient, approval slow but gradual as she ably outlines her limitations. There is an assuring pattern to this that even he from within can feel himself fall into, the way it distracts him, the piqued interest in the forming of a lesson. It quiets the way he remembers having knocked her down, the feeling of gathering strength as he raised his staff.
(Still, the endless debate: had he truly hesitated? Or had he been lining up the blow? He doesn't remember, he wishes he did.)
"Some mages swear by learning varied magics," he hears himself saying. Returning to the present. "It isn't a bad strategy, really. If faced with a monstrous entity of fire, then my fire does little good against it. If faced with another mage—"
He tips his head.
"I find focus in my limitations, that way. In understanding all that fire and rock and ash can do, and all that I can do with it. To conjure lightening is to conjure with great speed. To conjure light that blinds an opponent, or pain that forces them to drop their weapon. To scare a horse, or distract. However."
Marcus shifts his stance a little, adopting something more defensive and ready, "In conditioning yourself to avoid the scramble, I find sparring a suitable way to begin." Nothing like being forced to think fast when someone is about to crack your head open. He remembers that too.
It's not Marcus' fault that she thinks, for a split second, of him rushing toward her with his stave out and feels her mouth go dry.
"Will you go slowly?" stings to ask, but the necessity of it can't be denied. She tries to soften it as she attempts to mirror his stance, adding, "This is new to me. Fighting with staves."
That information can't be news to him, not after that fight. If she'd known how to do more than cast with her staff, she might have fallen back on it then.
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(Still, the endless debate: had he truly hesitated? Or had he been lining up the blow? He doesn't remember, he wishes he did.)
"Some mages swear by learning varied magics," he hears himself saying. Returning to the present. "It isn't a bad strategy, really. If faced with a monstrous entity of fire, then my fire does little good against it. If faced with another mage—"
He tips his head.
"I find focus in my limitations, that way. In understanding all that fire and rock and ash can do, and all that I can do with it. To conjure lightening is to conjure with great speed. To conjure light that blinds an opponent, or pain that forces them to drop their weapon. To scare a horse, or distract. However."
Marcus shifts his stance a little, adopting something more defensive and ready, "In conditioning yourself to avoid the scramble, I find sparring a suitable way to begin." Nothing like being forced to think fast when someone is about to crack your head open. He remembers that too.
no subject
It's not Marcus' fault that she thinks, for a split second, of him rushing toward her with his stave out and feels her mouth go dry.
"Will you go slowly?" stings to ask, but the necessity of it can't be denied. She tries to soften it as she attempts to mirror his stance, adding, "This is new to me. Fighting with staves."
That information can't be news to him, not after that fight. If she'd known how to do more than cast with her staff, she might have fallen back on it then.