Boundless Limits {B.Durran}

01

Metal scraps against metal as they brandish their weapons with lethal grace. Cool iron crashes against each other, filling the peaceful day with a sense of death, each stab a threat as the two opponents try to overwhelm the other.

The two move in a dance of impending doom, yet their lips twitch and threaten to curve into smiles. Tierney is immersed in this fight as if it's something real if she falters or makes a wrong move, it will lead to her death.

Ciaran's never been good with swords, his hands much prefer the weight of a bow and quiver on his back rather than a long-bladed weapon and a back sheath. The blonde envies Tierney's skill with the weapon, there are some things the pair aren't on even footing with, it is clear, Ciaran with his bow and Tierney with her swords.

This is once again proven true as Tierney parries his sword with an expert flick of her wrist, glancing the metal against her pairing dagger. The man sucks in a sharp breath feeling the cool edge of her broadsword lingering at his neck.

His expression is sour when he raises his hands to the sky, "I yield." Ciaran speaks bitterly, his right hand still clutching the hilt of his sword.

Tierney draws her sword back and slides it into its sheath, strapped to the weapon belt slanted at her hip. "You're getting better." She muses, her lips drawing in a teasing smile as she backs away from the boy.

Ciaran rolls his eyes at her comment, she pretends to not notice as she turns away, walking toward the tree where they left their water skins, packs, horses and the two men accompanying them to the college.

Going to Basgiath War College is heading to an early grave and Tierney doesn't mind saying so. She doesn't care for this death college, she won't be able to call herself a Valkorin if she fears seeing Malek young. But, she'd rather not meet the god of death young.

"Miss Valkorin." One of the men steps forward, offering her a waterskin. Tierney's eyes skim over his worn-out gear, old brown pants and a simple tunic. She doesn't allow herself to skip over the swords strapped to his back, the daggers slotted in their sheaths at his waist.

She knows she can kill him before he so much as reaches for them; a perk of being trained as she has. Should she assess each person that way? The question skims over her mind for a moment, is that something favourable or something a young woman should never think of?

"Thank you." Tierney takes the waterskin from him and looks back at Ciaran who is already skulling the water the leather held, given to him by the other man.

She opens her waterskin before drinking from it, allowing the liquid to run down her throat, cooling it after the sparring she has completed with her companion.

"You need to tie up your hair," Ciaran calls out, handing the waterskin back to the man with a small smile of thanks. "It's a nuisance." He says, turning to face her.

Tierney rolls her eyes as she hands the waterskin back to the man, upon hearing Ciaran's comment she reaches for her brunette locks, long enough to curl around her breasts. She knows he's right, having it undone where they're going is a hazard.

"I know," Tierney replies, taking her hand away. "I can't be bothered at the moment. And no, I would not like you to do anything about that." She says, shooting the men around her a look, knowing all of them will offer to help.

Ciaran shrugs at her response, "We should get going, we shouldn't have stopped to spar." He mutters as he walks toward the horses.

Tierney follows suit and so do the men accompanying them on their trek. Their presence isn't for their safety, but rather so they can collect the horses and bring them back to Tyrrendor, back to the home they left.