A Court of Flame & Shadow - Eris x OC

The Training Ring

Azriel kept his promise. The sun was cresting over the forest and Vel was nursing a steaming mug of black tea on the bench outside when two dark dots appeared in the pink sky above. She'd pulled an old brown leather outfit from the back of the closet. The last time she'd worn it had been in the war some four hundred years ago. It was timeworn and there were cuts and scrapes all over it, despite her not having been on the front lines. As she rummaged through the closet she'd realized – now that her robe was gone, likely burnt to a crisp by Beron, she'd have to figure out something else. Mor would be delighted to go shopping. She'd always hated that robe. Dated and prudish were a few of the nicer adjectives she'd used to describe it.

Cassian and Azriel landed at the front of her garden, stirring up a small cloud of dust. She felt slightly less bad about her choice of attire. Their Illyrian leathers were scarred and well-worn, though much better made than her own, the scales intricately woven together, padded shoulders and chest plates, flexible at the joints. Cassian enveloped her in a bear hug before she could open her mouth in greeting.

"We were so worried," he yelled in her ear as he hugged her, and over his shoulder, she saw Azriel grimace – from Cassian bringing up her misadventure or from Cassian just being Cassian, Vel wasn't sure. Azriel's shadows coiled around his fingers like wisps of night. It was strange to see them in the light again. Inside the cabin, they'd always been barred. She didn't much care for their snooping.

Cassian held her at arm's length examining her face. Most of her wounds had closed but some light scarring remained that would disappear over the weeks. She wondered if the white patch of skin on her back would ever darken to match.

"At least some good came out of it since you're finally willing to train."

Vel scowled. Cassian had been nagging for years about physical training, which is why she would have wanted Azriel to do it. She had little patience for Cassian's 'I told you so'. He spied the annoyance in her eyes and wisely shut his mouth, putting his hands up in a gesture meant to be placating. It didn't last long enough because he went on a moment later.

"I'm just saying, you can't always rely on magic. Skill is something nobody can take away from you." She bared her teeth and made to slap his arm but he dodged out of the way, a smug smile already forming on his face. "See? Too slow. Maybe old age is finally catching up to you, Oracle."

Azriel, sensing she was about to unleash some of that magic Cassian had been scoffing at, walked up to them. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, but his body was angled towards her, ready to spring between them if needed. Vel rolled her eyes at him.

"I need to leave in a moment but I'd like to make sure you two will behave before I do." Though the shadowsinger had said it to both of them, his eyes had lingered on the other male.

"It's good to get the blood flowing before training." Cassian shrugged his hand off and rolled his neck. "I don't think I've ever seen you properly fight so let's see what we're working with." He turned on his heels and walked out of her garden and into the clearing that bordered the forest. Vel contemplated knocking him in the back but quickly decided that would be foul play. Azriel's pointed stare had nothing to do with her decision.

She stood before Cassian in the clearing, as he said "How about we start with some physical conditioning? Let's see how fast you can run from here to that tree over there." He pointed to a fallen pine in the distance. When he half-turned and the twin blades strapped to his back glinted in the sunlight, she realized she had no weapons of her own, save for her bow, which was thrown in the back of some closet. But the thought sparked an idea.

Vel put her hands on her hips and gave him the widest smile she could manage. "How about this instead, Lord of Bloodshed." She'd made to mock his title, just like he had earlier, but Cassian didn't care for it. "You land one blow and I'll answer one question ... when will you die, who is your mate, the lucky numbers at any gambler's den in Prythian. Whatever you want to know, it's yours, if you can manage to draw blood."