Aithinne

"Again."

She turns away, voice without even a hint of emotion. I should've gotten used to this. Again again again. Not until I get this right. Not until I learn to do this on my own.

I bend down, picking up my sword as I leave my pride in the same place. Precisely at this moment, Aithinne turns back and strikes. I barely have a second to pose myself, straining onto whatever energy that's left in me. "In a real battle, he wouldn't spare you any time to get ready." She hiss.

I push, taking advantage of her taken aback and take a strike. One, two. As graceful as a dance. She has taught me well. The points of our swords turns in symphony with one another, like the extension of each other. I twist my joint in a slight motion, then her weapon flys away. A smile barely noticeable lights up her face, but she doesn't leave me time to enjoy my small victory. Before I know it, I'm lying on the ground, with her body mounting on mine. I struggle for a bit, but soon after she pins my hands above my head, I am left with nothing but heavy breaths.

She narrows her eyes at me, heat quickly flares up my cheeks. But she doesn't move. Neither do I. Soon I find that she is breathing as heavily as I am, her chest rising up and down. I soften my gaze, pressing my lips together.

"Aithinne." I breathe.

"I can't afford to lose this." For a second, I thought I saw her eyes wet up. I might as well have thought I have found something behind those eyes, the very ones that warned me against everything it'd bring upon me. It'll be the death of me.

Then her lips are on mine. Her grip upon my hands tightens, and tightens, till it finally soften into a soothing caress, sliding down my arms. I trace my finger tips down her hair, her neck, then her spine. She cups my cheek in her palms, as if she'd lose me if she doesn't hold tight enough. Not again.

I feel something wet rolling down my cheeks, and I open my eyes. Even though Aithinne doesn't let me back away, I could still see the tears welling down her eyes. With a shushing sound, I pull her into my arms. She buries her face into my shoulders as I gently soothe the back of her head and pat her back. My breath slowly steadies with hers. Her arms eventually find their way around my body again.

"I won't fail you this time." I say.

"I hate roses." She doesn't answer me, "they look funny and don't even smell nice. Let's plant some poppies instead."

I smile, "We shall."