Uban couldn't conceal his enthusiasm at having a chance to practice with his own magical skill. He tried, but that smile of his, quick to his face always, bloomed on his face despite his attempts to wipe it away. He was a good natured guy to begin with, but at the moment he was quietly beaming. He chuckled. "Don't you worry, I got better control now. Probably." This was only a joke, as he did have much better control of his ability now that he knew it existed. He hadn't then, back in Oak Hill. It had been so sudden, so...well...shocking. And he wasn't sure at the time which was more disturbing--the fact that he killed a man he knew since childhood by stopping his heart, or the fact that he could, and had been sitting on this ability all his life. 

Rohaan knew what was coming next. He was even worse at hiding his excitement than Uban; the boy shifted his weight impatiently and kept his eyes on Wheel. 
Berlin gave a resigned sigh. "You're giving him a blade, aren't you? Stars above. Alright. Rheoaan, I know it's Wheel but...try not to actually stab him?"
"C'mon Berlin! I wouldn't...I'm not clumsy!"
"No. Just over eager. Ah, never mind. Go on. You should learn at some point or another." Silently, Berlin looked at Wheel and begged him to keep the situation under control. They were his volatile members, the ones that could do the most damage in combat, but also the ones that were most likely to fight outside of a battle. They were like two unstoppable forces, and Berlin often feared what might happen if they ever broke out in any kind of conflict more serious than a little wrestling match or a flung boot. Wheel was a plow. Whatever stood in his way, he would mow down. And Rohaan was chaos embodied--unpredictable, proud, and fierce. Neither would ever back down in a fight, and it was this that Berlin feared. 

Uban elbowed Rohaan just as the boy was about to dash off after wheel. "Give 'em hell, kid." They exchanged a grin, and the two went off for their separate training sessions. 

--

Rohaan, despite being exhausted from the moving target practice, suddenly seemed to have a second wind, because he was brimming with energy. Though this happened regularly, this moment was particularly good since he actually had somewhere productive to direct all that energy. And he was very ready. Rohaan nodded and listened, though silently he thought that it was kind of silly he couldn't shift. That would be like asking Wheel to turn off his curse, as if that were possible, or for Uban to stick only to pistols. One did not ask a fish to swim and a dog to fly, did they? But he kept these thoughts to himself. Rohaan knew Wheel well enough to know that if he picked a battle with him, the older man would write him off and refuse to teach him immediately. He needed to be patient and do this his way if he wanted it at all. 

Rohaan peeled away his tattered shirt and cast it away; the sun was growing hot and he wanted to be unencumbered as much as possible. No matter how much Berlin fed him, he always looked a bit thin. Not emaciated, but wiry and lean. There was a large pinkish scar against his suntanned skin on his side where Hana had patched him up only days before. He had other scars as well--smaller, older ones. But he looked every bit the street rat as he took the blunted blade in his hands and dropped into a fighting stance. That, at least, he understood on instinct. It wasn't exactly specific to blade fighting, but there was no arguing that he knew a fair amount about body posture, movement, and a good solid stance. He took very quickly to stabbing. Parrying, however, took more practice for him and once when he and Wheel were trying it out at speed, he instinctively shifted to a horned ram and made to bash Wheel with his skull, but he realized his mistake and stopped almost instantly and shifted back with a frustrated huff. He was good at adapting while on the offense, but in defense, instinct was hard to break. Overall, he was quick to learn and quick to move. His time on the street made him scrappy, and it was clear that in the future, when he had enough practice to be a decent knife fighter, he would absolutely fight dirty.

---

Berlin swung his cutlass around a few times, listening to it whoosh through the air. He was unaccustomed to armor, but he figured it might be something worth familiarizing himself with. "Think you can match me, Uban?" His tone was playful; he rolled up his sleeves and stretched the muscles in his neck. 
"It's on, Berlin." 

In that moment as their swords crossed, there was no Captain and sailor. They were just two men, friends, having a friendly spar that got gradually faster and more heated. Their steel rang in the air and their feet scuffed through the sand; occasionally a gruff cry or a growl would sound from their lips. Sweat beaded on both of their brows by the time Berlin, who was very good with a sword, caught Uban's in his own and in a firm motion, swept his own blade around it and knocked it out of Uban's hands, bringing his edge to the younger man's throat.

"Damn! For a while there, I thought I'd have you." 
Berlin laughed. "Oh no. I'm not that old yet. You've got a long way to go before you can best me. Come, let me see you light that thing up a few times before we practice at speed, eh?"
Uban grinned wildly. "Aye, let's see..." He thought for a moment, then his cutlass burst into veins of bluish arcs. The sound was deafening, a hissing, buzzing, roaring sound that drowned out even the crash of the waves. Uban let it go, his usually green eyes going a bit gold as they often did when he was playing with extensive voltage. He was laughing devilishly. 
"Damn, that's loud. Do it again!" Berlin goaded.

Uban did. He held it longer this time, allowing himself to swing it around experimentally. The dancing arcs trailed behind his blade like short streamers, crackling all the while. He struck a nearby tree and the bark around it burst into small flames as sparks flew from it. They quickly doused the flames, but then Berlin suggested trying it while mid-spar. They started slow at first, looking like they'd only recently ever held blades as they went through steps like a dance. Eventually, Uban was able to reliably pour electricity into his blade even while striking or parrying, and they began to increase their speed until they were back up to full like they had been. 

Uban knocked Berlin's hard blow aside, feinted to the right and then cut sideways. Berlin was good and caught the blade, but he wasn't ready for what Uban had in store for him. There was not the same roaring crackle as there had been when Uban had faked an electric blow. This was softer, a buzzing only. And by the time Berlin detected it, it was far too late. His hands clenched and he staggered back with a deep 'oof' sound as he felt a sensation similar to slapping the surface of water with his whole body. 

Berlin was blinking numbly when Uban came and extended a hand to help him up; he clapped his captain on the shoulder as he lifted. "You a'right?" He asked. 
Berlin gave a surprised sort of smile. "You got me." They both laughed then. "You were going easy on me then. I hate to see the fate of the man who actually crosses swords with you. Damn." He shook his head, still a little stunned. The captain stabbed his sword into the sand and leaned on it casually, breathing hard. "Well go on, show me what else you can do. I know you been working on your stuff these last few months."
"Aye, I have! I want to try and throw it, but I can't quite get it to leave my hand past six inches or so." As he said this, he upturned his palm and tentacles of blue light burst out from it, reaching and grabbing at the air. He clenched his fist and it was extinguished like a wet lamp. "But I can go much further between my hands, see..." He held them apart and an arc jumped between them. His eyes were full gold now, and both men had flyaway locks of hair sticking straight upward.

"Can you fight like that? With it between your hands?" Berlin asked.
Uban shrugged. "I could. I can't do it as strong though. Not sure this would kill you, out like this. I need contact to do that. I can do a lot if I'm touching someone, or something," he said, glancing at his own cutlass. 
"Can you make it stronger?"
"Stronger?" Uban laughed. "I don't know. Maybe?"
"Try." He did. Berlin could see his muscles flexing and a look of stern focus on his face, but the arc did grow larger, louder, brighter, even with his hands spread almost to their full span. "C'mon, more! Harder!" Berlin was smiling now, pushing him like he'd pushed Rohaan earlier. Uban got a little more out of his arc, and then with a gasp of breath and a very loud bang, he let it go and it popped out of existence. But between his very heavy breaths, Uban began to laugh heartily. 
"I don't...think I got...anymore in me, Cap'n."
"Aye. Go get an apple or something, and we'll go and see how the others are doing."