Entrusted
Chapter Two- Sparring
John stood on one of the balconies of the Monastery, watching his daughter practice combat training. Each move , each placement was graceful and beautiful in its own way, how smooth and how each muscle flowed into one another whenever she moved was equally as captivating, even though they were mathematically strategized to inflict the most damage and the most pain possible. Cassandra, who had been in the Monastery since she was five years old, knew each assault like it was as normal as breathing. It was like ballet, how she could kick and spin and punch out at the air like it was breath. John was reminded of himself, a young fledgling Cleric, practicing all hours of the day, going over each step and each turn an infinite number of times. Cassandra now stood in the middle of the floor, pin-straight and stock-still, meditating in silence, whispering incoherently. John made his way down to the floor, grinning like a jackal.
My daughter. How beautiful she is. How proud am I.
John stood parallel to her.
"Cassandra."
She lifted her head at he sound of his voice, and turned around slowly. When she viewed his face, something flickered behind her eyes and her tone of voice changed.
"Yes, John?"
"I want you to fight me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I was watching you up there. You look like you have been practicing, I want to test you."
"Alright, then. Weapons?"
"No."
"Alright."
So they fought, faster than what the naked eye could see, whenever Cassandra hit John, he would falter but bounce back quickly, and whenever John hit Cassandra, she would in turn bounce back quicker. It was miraculous to watch, how they grunted and growled at each other, like wild animals fighting over a fresh kill. It finally stopped when John, who was adamant about beating her, misplaced a punch and sliced open her left brow with the force of his fist. She fell to the ground, sniffling and squealing.
"Cassandra?"
She turned away from him, even though he offered a hand in helping her up.
"Cassandra, I'm sorry."
She looked at him then, with wide, glittering eyes, an open mouth of amazement to match.
"What did you just say?"
John faltered in his words, but said them again.
"I'm sorry, for, um, hitting you."
Cassandra smiled, and stood on her own. She put a hand to her brow as small tears quenched from her eyes. John reached up and ran his thumb over her check, to brush the tear away. Cassandra smiled faintly, and then is returned harshly to reality.
"I-I have to go , John."
And with that she left him alone on the floor, his breathing echoing from the marble walls and back to him.
Chapter Two- Sparring
John stood on one of the balconies of the Monastery, watching his daughter practice combat training. Each move , each placement was graceful and beautiful in its own way, how smooth and how each muscle flowed into one another whenever she moved was equally as captivating, even though they were mathematically strategized to inflict the most damage and the most pain possible. Cassandra, who had been in the Monastery since she was five years old, knew each assault like it was as normal as breathing. It was like ballet, how she could kick and spin and punch out at the air like it was breath. John was reminded of himself, a young fledgling Cleric, practicing all hours of the day, going over each step and each turn an infinite number of times. Cassandra now stood in the middle of the floor, pin-straight and stock-still, meditating in silence, whispering incoherently. John made his way down to the floor, grinning like a jackal.
My daughter. How beautiful she is. How proud am I.
John stood parallel to her.
"Cassandra."
She lifted her head at he sound of his voice, and turned around slowly. When she viewed his face, something flickered behind her eyes and her tone of voice changed.
"Yes, John?"
"I want you to fight me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I was watching you up there. You look like you have been practicing, I want to test you."
"Alright, then. Weapons?"
"No."
"Alright."
So they fought, faster than what the naked eye could see, whenever Cassandra hit John, he would falter but bounce back quickly, and whenever John hit Cassandra, she would in turn bounce back quicker. It was miraculous to watch, how they grunted and growled at each other, like wild animals fighting over a fresh kill. It finally stopped when John, who was adamant about beating her, misplaced a punch and sliced open her left brow with the force of his fist. She fell to the ground, sniffling and squealing.
"Cassandra?"
She turned away from him, even though he offered a hand in helping her up.
"Cassandra, I'm sorry."
She looked at him then, with wide, glittering eyes, an open mouth of amazement to match.
"What did you just say?"
John faltered in his words, but said them again.
"I'm sorry, for, um, hitting you."
Cassandra smiled, and stood on her own. She put a hand to her brow as small tears quenched from her eyes. John reached up and ran his thumb over her check, to brush the tear away. Cassandra smiled faintly, and then is returned harshly to reality.
"I-I have to go , John."
And with that she left him alone on the floor, his breathing echoing from the marble walls and back to him.