Another Session Alone Yet Together(Open)

MUSE

Staring at his target, impaling it twofold with a glance filled with oblivion, the mute warrior sighed depressingly to himself. Retracting his sword from the dummy's innards and sheathing it in its cozy, perfect home, the weak, growing Huntsman examined his surroundings: there he stood in that arena, in his armor, practically alone on that late Tuesday afternoon. Smears across the ground, negligible footprints aligning the arena surface, the occasional scratch then and there, such markings filled the arena room from just one boy's constant training. Ever since classes ended for the day, that student spent all of his time simply waving his sword, running about, leaping to and fro, draining his Aura, all just to become stronger. Day upon day, he focused on growing when there was nothing else for him: no friend appeared, no mission motivated him, not even a hunt was worth taking.

All the boy did was follow a schedule.

Woof, woof! The sounds of a reliable and friendly companion directed themselves toward the lonely boy. With a light smile and slow approach, the boy's thoughts lingered to the time his companion and he spent together. Ever since her birthday, they were practically on their own, little to do, so they spent most of their time going on walks, learning together, training together, and relaxing together. Legwork, tricks, and self-defense were all essentials of life that the boy taught his fluffy friend. So far, the little one knew how to walk, run, fetch, roll over, leap, climb, stay, follow, shake, attack, defend, grow, shorten, and simply play; there was little else that the boy could teach his companion. Kindness, friendliness, so many aspects of the growing boy grew onto the animal as well, and they soon would grow into adulthood with comparable and admirable ideals, together.

Raising a hand to his decently-sized dog's head, Gawain happily pet his head before sitting on the hard floor, resting. His dog, kind as he was, rested beside his owner, caring for the one who gave him a desirable, enjoyable home. Meanwhile, the boy simply reminisced on the actions that took place only moments ago. Between each session of attack, he allowed his Aura to recover before engaging once more.

His latest one was devised against ranged opponents, those that could pin him down with greater ease than four-pronged staff to a piece of flesh. First, from the opposite side, he positioned himself with his newly developed stance, right arm raised above his shoulder, sword tilted slightly downwards from a perfect horizontal as his left hand provided a focused viewpoint on his enemy. Expecting the first barrage of fire, the Huntsman dodged to the opposition's off-hand side, taking off in a sprint. His sword trailed slightly behind him, both hands carrying the piece of metal along his path. Before long, arriving at the wall with no space to run, the boy leaped straight at the wall, kicking off right after upwards and towards the other side of the room; however, not more than half-way there, starting his descend towards the ground did he raise his left arm and concentrate on a singular spot in the arm. A Glyph appeared, sporting its royal symbol as Gawain landed on top of it, focusing his eyes once more on his target. Not more than a second later did he kick from his still spot in the air towards his target, closing the distance as his both his hands shouldered the weight of the sword before emptying the mass into the target, and that was that.

Even if his body was heavy, he learned to bear the burden. He had to bear it, to become stronger, strong enough to meet his penultimate goal. He, back at his arrival at Syne, would've never matched up to what he was then. He was more strategic, more tactical, more aggressive. He was practically about to enter his second year, and he had to be ready for whatever lied ahead. He had to be.

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Dog:

The boy's mind wandered as usual, however, focused on the day's training: types of opponents, combat settings, new attacks, new ways to engage until he finally came full circle, linking each thought to the next. After all, if he could solve the problem from every single angle in his mind, then applying the solution wouldn't be so hard; only, focusing on achieving the end and adapting to whatever came outside of the plan was still troublesome. Still, with the path he chose, he'd have to learn and grow. Although, that was something more said than done.

Ever so suddenly, when words spoke by a foreign body pierced the resting boy's ears, Gawain, and his companion, raised their heads to the person. However coarse the comment was, Gawain simply eyed the male's movements, keeping a calm and neutral face; the dog followed as well, even standing up in discomfort. The male's presence was slightly disturbing; the simple garb was more than enough to displace the peaceful combat. Gawain simply didn't know how to continue with the conversation from there; the distance between the two would only make communicating through notepad terribly awkward, and the air emanating from the male wasn't one seemingly kind, so far. So, the boy treated the situation calmly and carefully as he usually did.

Raising from his spot, the boy waved his right hand in a kind, friendly gesture while his dog simply waited for the male's response. With a simple action, Gawain thought out possible scenarios leading from there; a spar could occur, a rarity throughout his time at Syne, the male would leave as fast as he came, the two would engage in conversation, or quite a few other things. The thought process, of course, was short, as whatever response from the male was well noted by the boy.

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Dog:

His words fell like harsh rain, honest and expected but ever so harming. The boy's hand fell to his side as the boy simply stared at the male, intrigued as to what he had to offer but also with a hint of contempt; such words did hold a dark note to them. Nonetheless, even with the presence of the male, all he was was a bystander, an onlooker, someone who could provide constructive criticism or destructive; Gawain simply didn't know.

Sitting once more on the arena floor –one leg stretched out, the other slightly bent upward– Gawain continued with his rest once more, allowing his mind and body to relax and strengthen to their maximum potential. The process was already taken several times already, and the boy wasn't about to slack off on his routine, even when someone watched him like a mother eagle over her eggs. Still, the boy's companion kept watch over the tense situation, sitting and staring back and forth between the male and the boy over and over. He kept insurance that nothing bad would happen, hopefully.

As the unwelcome comments flew once more, Gawain simply shook his head whilst facing away from the male, showing neither disrespect nor friendliness but instead a neutral understanding. The boy knew his goal, his penultimate goal; however, one comment provided an interesting topic, nonetheless.

“A girl perhaps?” the male stated with received contempt than intended. Gawain never had someone to love at the academy, but he had one person he could call a close friend, perhaps close enough to love. Yet, such intentions were never truly pursued, and, for a while, he never saw her again. Of course he was sad, but he learned to carry on his own, as usual. With a silent sigh of contemplation, the boy stared off towards his faithful companion who simply stared back; the little dog that grew up in such a short amount of time was the one friend who stayed with him time and time again.

And then there was the male in the room. His presence was less than likable, but he was there; however, whether or not Gawain was ready to accept him would be settled sooner or later, perhaps soon. With a sudden bark towards the male, the dog stared with a wag of his tail at the distant figure, intrigued with the situation at hand. Conversing was bound to happen, but for then, Gawain simply waited, petting and caring for his friend as the two waited for a response.

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Love? Was it love that the boy felt? Love for the person he cared about? What is it love that caused his greater fall to loneliness? Love that was never reciprocated? Was what the man saying right? Did Gawain truly feel love towards her?

A bark called Gawain back to reality and then a gentle paw, and soon, the boy stood, his hands by his sides, his gaze upon his companion, and his thoughts decided. His eyes no longer held any hint of reflection, self-contemplation, but instead, they held the eyes of a dedicated and steadfast student. He knew that love wasn't everything; he knew that the love he sought was a result of friendship, a grand friendship, and that's all he wanted deep down inside: friends.

Turning to the male in the far distance, Gawain adamantly shook his head once more before pointing towards the center of the arena; explaining himself properly through words would take far too long with a person such as the daunting male. Action was a better way. There was always the idea that people could learn and understand one another through combat, and this opportunity was deemed by Gawain as appropriate for the occasion.

Turning his back towards the male, stepping further into the arena as he took in a deep breath, Gawain slowly unsheathed his sword from its black sheath; the curved guard, the round grip, the sharpened edges and tip, everything was different from its first form, just like its wielder. Stepping at the far end of the arena, turning to face the male at the other, Gawain raised his sword in front of him, both hands on the grip, feet shoulder-width apart, and left foot in front of his right. He was a peace-maker, but even so, he was a warrior.

Gawain wanted the man to understand his motives, his intentions. He wanted to draw out the feelings he kept deep inside of him, releasing them throughout their entire spar, just to make the man understand. His stance showed his dedication, his stillness supported his readiness, and his eyes proved his desire. Gawain was ready.

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MUSE

As his heavy gaze surveyed the male's armor, Gawain's feet carefully positioned himself five meters away from the approaching opponent. The male's arrogant taunting and advancing made only feeble attempts for a rise; the boy blocked off any remarks in combat scenario -his mind solely focused on the battle at hand. No thought of love, no thought of the past, and no thought of fear would change the boy's thoughts, thoughts of and only about the present.

Black trench coat, no visible weaponry, clear arrogance, he has to be skilled in close range combat. The boy's thoughts continued to race back and forth, gathering the most information out of the tense situation. If his sudden thoughts were correct, however, then he knew he'd have a rough time against the opposition; Gawain had around a meter of range between the two, slightly more with an entire arm, but if the male dodged and advanced at a critical moment, then that advantage would turn into a fault. He knew he had to be careful at all times, and as such, he couldn't ever let his eyes leave the coated figure.

Nevertheless, as their walk dragged on, Gawain knew he'd be backed against the wall, so he slowly started advancing to his right in a strafe; both of his hands were as they were, and his feet stepped ever so slightly to the right, keeping their positioning almost the same. He couldn't give an inch; he had to think one step ahead of his opponent to win, but for then, that was all Gawain could do.

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Words were just words at that point, nothing more, nothing less. Focused on the motions of his opponent, Gawain refused to let any conversation get in the way; besides, he couldn't contribute to any talk anyway. So, when the male first moved his body, any way out of the ordinary, Gawain reacted accordingly, immediately.

The shoulder drop immediately halted Gawain's movement; the distance between the two was enough to provide for an appropriate evade, possibly a counter, but either attempt would have to be pinpoint accurate. Any unnecessary motion would surely be caught, and Gawain would surely be punished for an amateur mistake. His eyes locked on the figure's body, his hands tightened on the grip of his sword, his legs loosened themselves for immediate movement; the dedicated boy was ready to face his threat head on.

At least, he hoped so.

The shoulder drop undeniably shouted an attack from Gawain's left, a hooking motion into a solid punch most likely; however, the action was simply a ruse. A frontal assault was already in motion. Dodging left or right was no longer an option: the male was far too fast to let his prey slip from his hands. The distance closed in by the male also left Gawain without an appropriate counter, leaving only a designated few options for movement. Needless to say, with a wall on his back, the boy only knew his options were scarce in number. So, with little room to run against a momentum-destructive attack, Gawain decided to face his opposition head on.

Twisting his entire body towards his right in a counter-clockwise motion, following the direction of the opponent's hand, Gawain kicked off of the ground, pushing him away from his opposition but also leaving him in a sustained horizontal position. His upper body transitioned as well to protect itself against the incoming attack: his arms raised upward, his left hand released the handle of the blade while the right hand stayed, and soon Gawain's neck was covered by a cross-arm figuration. Still, the impact of the following male's hand against the boy's left arm did little physical damage, only providing a small shock to say the least: cloth was never a great conductor of electricity. Nevertheless, the motion was sloppy, improvised; any professional would've noticed the situation as such and act upon it, but Gawain hoped his opponent didn't.

Pressing his left foot against the area wall after the entire transition was completed, Gawain tried kicking away, hoping to land him closer towards the middle of the arena; the motion was accompanied by a horizontal slash from his sword, parallel to his body and directed straight at the figure. The attack was utilized not only as a probable hit but also as insurance for escape, if he made it that far.

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