"Every man has his secret sorrows that the world knows not. And often time we call a man cold when he is only sad."
The perfect man.
Made rough through time.
He lies, yet he is the honorable one.
He kills, yet he is the most righteous.
He is gentle...
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[I was listening to the live version of this song at kremlin while writing this part.
A very little vibe of this chapter came from the inspiration of this song and its lyrics. The intensity is to die for! It is unrelated otherwise, but feel free to give a shot to this masterpiece both in visual and sound aspects!
Though this song doesn't even show 5% of his skills even! This guy has the best voice in the whole world with his insane range! There is nobody at his level in this game. He isn't a human. Period.
And guess what? He is 1000th times better live!]
Bow. Engage. Cross. Disengage.
And the hall room filled with the sound of rushed footsteps and clinks of the blades.
Slowly the spectators' eyes widened with the pace of the fight.
It was fast.
Too fast to even comprehend what was happening.
The movements were flawless and elegant. Each step was calculated and cautious like the perfect execution of a ballet show.
But at the same time, their jaw dropped in the intensity of the fight. The air was reverbing with the swish of the naked, thin and deadly blades with the sparkles they emitted with each movement by the lights reflecting on the cold steel.
The silent room turned into a whisper buzz when Arya almost growled, "Stop holding back! Fight me."
And the pattern slowly unfolded in front of their confused eyes.
It was a one-sided attack continuously.
For Jin, He didn't attack back or didn't approach a single time.
The defense from Jin's side was decorated with a high level of professionalism, like an artist who knows and loves his craft and respects it. Even his every slight movement was a spectacle to watch. He was light on his feet, the sword held in between his fingers was handled like a part of his hand and his movements were like flowing breeze. Light and fast yet extremely delicate and soothing to eyes.
Explains why he gained the nickname "The poet with a sword" from an early age.
He, with a sword, was a beauty.
To Arya's side, her movements were fast and hard. Her every step was so sharp and compact that it exuded confidence and boldness.
Her style didn't scream elegance but mastery and ruthless expertise.
The style of both the seniors was completely different from one another, but together it just seem like a visual stanza from a symphony.
They together created the symphony of the conflicts. The struggles of the spirits- the dance of the swans.
