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A sword burst through the straw dummy, swerving to cleave off the shoulder, slipping to embed itself in the ground. Its holder’s eyes widened as she came slamming against the ground alongside her blade, pain shooting up into the entire side of her body.
“You've lost your way, lambkin.” A voice carries itself over the wind, the gentle falling of straw and the sounds of the forest- an otherworldly tone. Elysia brings herself to stand, rolling her shoulder out as she stares at the strawman substitute of a monster. She doesn't look to her side, to the figure towering over her pained shoulder. The itch of a hand against the pained joint makes her flinch, a touch deeply unfamiliar as another hand lifts her own as she inspected like a doll.
“My mind has been clouded.” Elysia curtly speaks, eyes turned to the floor. Seravion tuts slightly as he stands tall again, arms crossed as his great wings folded against his back, a hand to his chin.
“You have only started a few degrees from your mark, you simply need to change the angle of your attack… Or, it is I, who needs to teach you perspective.” Seravion adds. The statement confuses Elysia, turning to look up at him.
“How do you mean?”
“Your manner of thinking about battle is incorrect. These monsters are simple creatures, predictable. If you fight as if it's tooth and nail, you simply copy their base instincts to destroy, rather than a… human, something greater, bigger… stronger. You must act like a human. Have grace. I will teach you.”
The lingering feeling that ‘acting like a human’ meant she was anything but was unspoken, as Elyisa once again felt her hand being raised, her chin being titled up, posed like a doll. Seravion takes in the pose for a moment, before ‘resetting’ his muse, turning her body in many different ways to understand her muscle structure, her dexterity, perfectly.
Elysia speaks not, simply allowing her body to be moved, inspected and graded. Seravion unfolds his own wings as he stretches the woman's arms wide, admiring her wingspan.
“You were taught to follow music?” He asks.
“No, but I do understand music and the beats within it.” As always, she keeps her words short, still looking ahead.
“Good.”
He didn't need to snap his fingers or issue a command, simply straighten out his posture, and a small fleet of instruments came to his aid. They yawned in tandem, their tired wood and ivory creaking as they blew out a crescendo, harmonies finding their place in the pecking order. A flute, a
lyre, a lute and a shawm all settled into their line beside each other, ready for the next order.
Elysia peeked over her shoulder, staring in slight wonder at the instruments floating within the air, played without human hands or mouths. They paused only for a moment, long enough for the angel to make his way in front of his muse, fingers barely holding the half-elf’s rough hands, delicate like chalk, as all mortals are, another hand against her side, just enough muscle to hide her ribs.
Once again, she speaks no words, eyes wide as she doesn't know what to do with her hands. The instruments seem to take a breath, before filling the small area with sound, sweet and textured and loud and fast, unlike anything Elyisa had heard before. As she finds her bearings in this unusual scenario, her body is spun around in tandem with Seravion, taking her from her feet only to place her back where she was. She wondered if this was dance, something so close to battle, without the worry of fangs at her arms, halting her blade.
Elysia, unknowing if she's bathed in more of her own blood than monsters, finds herself panicked with the way she is moved. Her back is tilted, bent backwards by Seravion, towering over her. Her mind races, rethinking all the battles that have forced her to fall, her feet fall from underneath her.
Seravion sees her, witnesses the panic in her breath, the way her legs falter with the stretch. Elysia almost falls to the ground, away from his hand. It was not often he had shielded her from pain, but today, he reaches out. The pain shocks her shoulder once more as he grabs her wrist, his own feet off the ground to properly grab her, to pull her back to her feet. Seravion’s wings do not fold back inwards, keeping them straight, for balance. He fixes his posture, feet settling against the ground, and Elysia straightens her back in turn.
Seravion takes his steps slower this time. Against her shoulder, he taps, 1-2-3-4. A simple step out, forward, forward out, back and in. Elysia watches her feet, nervous to tumble over herself, heart pounding in her chest in tandem with the strumming of the lute. With every step, every near fall, she understands why this dance was necessary. Elysia realised she had no real control over her body, no elegance, as Seravion put it.
Slowly, watching her every move, Seravion begins to add more steps to this waltz, another outwards step, a spin. He watches, silent, as Elysia grows more to the music, understanding the tempo. Slowly, she loses her worries, her head raises. Slowly, Elysia learns to dance.
As the blue sky settles into a burning orange as the sun sets, Elysia finds her heart no longer beats with fear of her movements, instead it jumps and spins with the music. The luxury of peace, of freedom was not something she had been acquainted with, her feet ached, but the pain only drove her heart to soar father, to experience this joy longer. In the many complicated steps she'd memorised, Elysia stared at the Angel’s great golden wings and wondered if the lightness in her chest, the adrenaline pumping from this fervour instead of fear was the same as a bird in flight, pushed from their nest and forced to fly.
She knew not the name of the songs, the moves, the dance itself, but Elysia knew it felt so freeing.
It was when her hand left Seravion's side, her leg, not shaped, not designed, for this task, flew out. When she dared to smile, just a bit, her loose hand in the air as she turned out from her dancing instructor, a simple spin out like she'd been taught earlier. It was then that the same pain shot up her shoulder, her wrist pulled, arm trying to escape its socket. Elysia’s face fell when she saw her hand locked in his grip, eyes darting up to see his, locked onto her hand. The music was slowing to a fast halt, it's played unfocused on keeping the song alive.
Was this freedom too much for Elysia? They both wondered the same question.
Seravion watched her hand, like a lion who keeps the gazelle locked in its jaw to make sure the prey won't escape, waiting, holding her wrist. She was only a mortal. Music and the arts were in most humans, but Elysia? He had carved her into her destiny, her life's desire and wish. It was not with love or duty or curiosity that he chipped away at the wood, sanded her and prepped the varnish. Here, in one night, Seravion had shown Elysia humanity once more. In this moment, she was no longer that girl with a vow to become a monster hunter, but a woman two steps behind her goal, with an angel holding her wrist, pulling her back. He had not saved her from a fall like at the start of this dance, he had stopped her from growing.
Elysia feels that hint of panic once more. This was a lesson, lessons are meant to be followed and not worked upon. She wonders if she should comment, to mention if she had learnt to be more graceful, but the words get stuck in her throat as usual. Their lesson had been a silent one in verbal conversation, but she understood their sentences in movements with ease. The ebb and flow of being shown then copying, strengthening her arms and coordination backed to music felt natural. Elysia long knew conversation's didn't need to be said aloud, yet now, she couldn't find what words Seravion wanted to say, holding her wrist. Her mind thought it would be discipline, but her eyes were too sharp to not miss the faintest worry on his face.
“That's enough.” The music slows and the instruments seem to disappear into dust, as Seravion draws his arm back to himself. He pulls at the end of his shirt, patting away non-existent dust to fix his perfect appearance.
Elysia knew what those words meant. No more dance. Not tomorrow, not ever. It was only a secondary teaching to her main goal, after all. The night felt tense, memories of music heavy on her heart. She knew she couldn't dance alone, but as she stared at the figure walking away, Elysia wondered if Seravion would dance without her, either.