[b]Elliot Tessel[/b]

Elliot grinned to himself as Erika went off, his leader having just promised him a sparring match. Another shrill squawk from Harley snapped the boy out of his daze, and he went off to the side of the field where his knapsack was. He sat down heavily, a small groan escaping him as he landed on a couple bruises that had sprouted on his backside.

Harley hopped off his shoulder and onto the ground. She waddled around excitedly as Elliot worked the bag open with his blistered hands, reaching in to grab a small loaf of bread and a canteen of water.

He broke pieces off of the loaf, giving some to Harley and eating the rest. When the last to it was gone, the phoenix stared at Elliot expectantly.

[color=f26522]"That's all we have for now. Wait for supper,"[/color] the boy said dismissively, wiping the blood from his cheek for the dozenth time.

After giving a disappointed huff and pouting for a minute, Harley picked herself up and started climbing on her sitting master, poking at his welts and cuts with her beak -- another annoying habit of hers, though Elliot had zero clue why she did this one.

He grumbled and half-heartedly pushed her away, finally wincing and speaking out as she pecked at the cut on his cheek.

[color=f26522]"For the love of God, stop that![/color] he said as he shoved her face away, prompting an unimpressed, beady stare from her. Elliot returned the stare. [color=f26522]"You just make it hurt more when you do that, you dumb bird."[/color]

Harley squawked at him loudly, and made a point to deliberately turn herself around before sitting in a huff, looking directly away from Elliot.

As the boy sat back to lean on his hands, eyeing the back of his Vein's head with a raised eyebrow, he heard Ashlinn's voice. He glanced over towards the direction it came from, spotting her a ways away, and saw several Mercenaries making their way towards her, more than a few of which had sparred with Elliot earlier.

Elliot looked away, taking a sip of his water. In the time he'd been here, he'd never really liked getting medical attention from the Practitioners -- not because he had anything against them, but because the injuries he sustained from training were far from life-threatening. They were just some-what painful inconveniences. Even if he got them treated, he'd be right back to training the moment he had the chance, and would get plenty more of the small injuries to replace any that had been healed. It just felt like a waste of everyone's time.

Though the cut on his face was an especially annoying injury today. It kept bleeding and requiring him to wipe it up every few minutes. The bleeding had slowed down considerably though since he had received it, so he figured it also didn't warrant a visit to the Practitioners.

Elliot tapped the top of Harley's head as he lifted himself off the ground, wrapping his blistered fingers around his wooden sword and bringing it up with him.

A few seconds later, he was back on the training field, swinging at straw dummies. He attempted to incorporate the styles and techniques that he had picked up on during his sparring today, deciding which one's worked for him -- which one's felt right -- and tossing those that didn't.