This one is a little shorter than most of the others so it's just a filler, hope you like it all the same and thanks for dropping by, love you guys XD
Stealing away quietly Amaya carried the practice swords she held over to a dummy. She worked her fingers, reviving her old skills though she was slow and a little clumsy at first, she gradually fell back into her old tricks and ways, twirling the wooden blades around her body to then strike several fast blows at the stuffed figure before her, moving her feet as her father's teachings came back to her.
She was moderate with blade skill, Amaya could use them well enough to keep her alive but she doubted she would be able to depend fully on her swords seeing as they had none that suited the style of fighting Amaya's father had taught her with. She needed finer, longer blades like Tristan's, with an elegant curve yet a slimmer breadth still.
Once Amaya was warmed up she picked up a blunt edged long sword, testing its weight before spinning around, slashing at the sack with a powerful sweep before performing several blocks and counters, frowning as she tried to remember everything her father had taught her over the years. She was out of practice, which was not helpful seeing as she now only had just over a week before Arthur would move out with his army and meet Lazarus head on.
Something did not feel right. Amaya pulled back from her stance, cocking her head to the side then tried the counter she had just tried again. Once more it ended with her off balance, teetering slightly as she almost tripped over her own feet. Scowling, she tried again only slower.
Amara guided her sword down at an imaginary blade, knocking it back upwards then spun around with the movement to continue the momentum then thrust forwards, her blade tip digging into the centre circle of the dummy's heart but still her ankles were twisted together, causing her to lose her poise as she stumbled to regain her footing.
"You anchor your feet." Amaya spun around at Tristan's remark, seeing him leaning against a pillar nonchalantly, watching her sceptically. Instantly heat rushed to Amaya's face so she turned her face away from him, feeling her gut twist at his presence. She did not reply but did not move either, not wanting to continue her practice under his watchful eyes.
When she did not hear him leave, Amaya sighed impatiently. "What do you want?"
"Why are you out here so late?" Tristan asked her bluntly, continuing his fixated look upon her person. "It is dark."
"So that I could be alone." She snapped at him but he didn't flinch from her intentional bite, merely arched an eyebrow and moved towards her. At the sound of his approaching footsteps Amaya turned and lifted the blunt blade, pressing the tip into his chest so he stopped where he was, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Let me help you."
"Why would you want to do that?" He scowled at her.
"Because your stance is appalling. It is an insult to our people." In answer Amaya pressed the blunt weapon harder into Tristan's chest, forcing him to back up a couple of steps until she was satisfied with the distance. They glared at one another, the heat flashing between them enough to burn an entire harvest. Locked in a stalemate, Amaya knew that he was not going to leave without her sending him away, so she took a calming breath so that she could speak in a civilised tone.
"I want to speak with you about what happened yesterday night." Tristan tensed, his memory flickering back to the occurrence and instantly he wanted to repeat the event, yearning for her touch. She had kissed him back. Through his wine filled mind he was certain of that. However when he had walked away she had not called out to him, not even to make him explain himself. She had not even struck him, which confused him further. Why the hell had he acted without thinking? "Why did you do it?" Tristan said nothing, unsure of what to say. Amaya stepped forwards, narrowing her eyes. "I command you to answer my question, scout." Her tone angered him, the powerful emotion in his chest transpiring to fury as he lowered his voice to growl at her.
"I was intoxicated."
"Yes, I could tell that." She replied sarcastically, placing one hand on her hip and lifted her chin proudly. "Is that the best answer you can give?"
"Why should I explain myself to you?" He snapped, stepping intimidatingly closer but Amaya merely scowled, her lips thinning into a firm line.
"Because it is not right to go around kissing women then leaving them wondering what on earth possessed you to do such a thing!" She flung back at him, dropping the sword on the ground with a loud clatter to fold her arms across her chest. "Now explain." Tristan snarled.
"It meant nothing. We were both affected by the wine and you were just there. Alright? It won't happen again, you can be sure of that." Inwardly Amaya flinched. So it had meant nothing. She was wrong with the placement of Tristan's affections. Hardening her exterior Amaya nodded her head curtly then turned around, picking up the sword then strode over to the rack to put the blunt blade back in its place. This was no use, she would have to discreetly ask Galahad to train with her so that she could receive some proper practice. "Well? Nothing to say?"
"You have made your case made perfectly clear." Amaya replied curtly as she slid the practice sword away, brushing her fingers against the hilt before turning to face the scout. "What more is there to say? You were a little drunk, I was light headed and you listened to your primeval desires when in close contact with a woman. Now that I have nothing left to say to you, I bid you goodnight." Her tone was bitter and iron cold. With a slight flinch Tristan realised his mistake. He should not have said that. He should not have told her it meant nothing.
"Amaya wait…" He started but she was already striding away from him back into the servants' wing to escape him. With a sharp growl Tristan clenched his fists, looking down to the ground. "You stupid fool, Tristan." He murmured to himself then slumped to the ground, his back to the pillar as he held his head in his hands. What should he do now?