Grace
"Keep your arms still, and roll your shoulders with the turn of your body. Don't bend your elbows so much, so your shoulders take the impact and not the smaller joints. Yours especially."
Death gave his instruction briskly and precisely, motioning with the curve of his own arm. His temporary student nodded, scanning the appendage thoroughly before imitating it with her own.
She was being very patient with the strict teaching, he was slightly astonished to notice. No matter how many times he told her to fix something, she didn't grow frustrated, didn't direct any ire his way— Only adjusted as well as she could, and responded to his sarcasm with a bit of her own.
He hoped the patience of the student wouldn't exceed that of her teacher's.
"Raise your arms, so impact is given to the trunk of your body directly. If you keep them too low or high, you're distributing the weight to your muscles instead of your frame. That is mainly why most warriors grow weary of battle before their true stamina had ever reached its peak." The Pale Rider once more corrected, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you keep your limbs within a certain axis in proportion to the rest of your body, you'll learn everything else quickly. The curve of the blades give you leave to slash in whatever direction you need, with great force if need be; But the motions of the hands holding them must be small, or others can read your movements easily."
Her eyelids fluttered a little in thought, and she turned her head towards him with an expression of enthusiasm. "Hold on— It's like wielding a staff in that aspect, right?" She asked this with barely-contained excitement.
Death thought, and then nodded. "Yes. Knowledge in any other weapon will aid you in the learning of a new one, in any regard." He replied, and was just about to continue the lesson when she started moving on her own.
The rune-forged scythes merged into one, the demon soul within rejoicing with a flash and flicker to life. One hand slid higher upon the stave, and the other lower, holding the arcing blade as if it were a bow instead. Then they slid back together, and the head of the scythe slowly swung forward and back around, a silvered pendulum.
The heel of a palm braced beneath the balancing hand, and the circular movement quickened infinitesimally. Soon, it was like a netting of glistening argent around her, but it was not to last. It slowed once more, the details of the blade once more visible, and then it was given slow, wide sweeps.
In spite of giving just a demonstrative performance, sweat had gathered on her brow and her arms trembled with the weight of the weapon. Deep, even breaths were taken to steady those wavering limbs, however, and a faintly satisfied smirk twitched her lips.
The onlooker almost jolted when she suddenly turned to him, face transforming into a cheery smile. "I'm going to get this right in a little bit, promise. So don't go easy on me, okay?" She inclined her head in regard, once more taking her weapon into the practice stance.
A smirk of his own curled his lips beneath the mask, and he nodded in approbation. "I didn't intend to." With an eerie glow of deep, violent purple he summoned his own scythes, and held them in a mock-attack position. "Are you ready?" The girl obviously didn't notice the difference.
She paled. "Uh— Don't go that hard on me! That's just mean!" She sputtered, tripping over herself to placate him. "Do I need to appeal to your masculine side, here? Should I say to go easy on the girl? You know. To curry favor? I'm just letting you know, special treatment goes a long way with me." A nervous grin was paired with the widened eyes, and it was too much for him.
He burst into dry, cracked laughter, relaxing his stance and content that he'd gotten the rise out of her that he was aiming for. "Not to worry, kit. I'm not much one for mistreatment of things that belong to me." In his enjoyment, perhaps he'd said too much— But the suddenly-scowling one didn't even seem to notice, eyes narrowed and lips puckered huffily.
"You're messing with me." She accused him, folding her arms crossly and dangling her weapon from a hand almost comically. "That was mean, too. Generally, when someone looks like they're going to cut me to bits, I take for granted the fact that they probably are going to."
Yet another opportunity he didn't want to waste. "You seem to be in one piece to me," He declared loftily. "So perhaps your paranoia is unwarranted more than you think?"
She'd opened her mouth with a retort hot on her tongue, but then he was denied the reaction the second time around. He may have been too greedy to fish for another, he surmised.
There was a disgruntled sound made as she closed her mouth on her potential response, before roughly tamping Amphisbaena's pommel blade into the stone floor and leaning on it. "You know, I think the saddest part of this entire situation is that you look happiest when you're picking on me. Not to mention damn confusing."
He froze completely, unused to hearing such things. Happy? Him? Certainly, there may be times where he's moderately content for the time being, but he never considered himself to fall under the grasp of as strong and simple a word as 'happy'. He didn't dislike it, however. And nor could he exactly deny it.
Thus the Pale Rider didn't, and focused on the latter part instead. "I don't understand where you find it confusing." He evaded airily. "It is as clear as day to me."
Then, he was given the pleasant surprise of a decent comeback. "I don't know about that. All the days on this world seem to be equally gloomy." She grinned.
He chuckled.
"Not as much as you think."
