[center][b]Lucan/Aaron Collab: The First Day[/b][/center]

The training room was dark, the windows that normally let in copious amounts of moonlight were closed, and the curtains drawn. Artificial light from dimmed bulbs gave the room an eerie yet relaxed feeling, and for Lucan it was a safe haven and a home, a place he truly loved to be. The vampire pureblood walked slowly but surely into the room and began moving silently to a silhouetted figured near the center. In his hands were two swords, the day’s weapon of choice.

As he approached, Lucan simply stopped some five paces behind the blond-haired youth and gave a gentle clear of his throat. And suddenly the stillness and total silence was shattered. “Aaron Starag I presume?” Came the tenor voice.

The boy turned around with a start, and promptly stood at attention, hands behind his straightened back. “Yes sir.” He exclaimed stiffly. 

Lucan considered him. The boy was tall but lanky, and from how he stood one could tell he wasn’t quite comfortable with the new dimensions of his limbs. He had big blue eyes and honey-blond hair, classic features that had come to be expected from the Starags, and he stood rigid, as if he was nervous to put a muscle out of place. He was a classic example of a human youth, one who clearly felt the weight of a long and proud family history on his newly-broadened shoulders. 

“Indeed…” Came the reply as critical eyes sized the boy up and down as if deciding upon whether this was truly worth his time. A few minutes later he simply nodded and held out a longsword for the boy to grab, removing a handkerchief from his front pocket right after, to wipe some dust from his own blade’s pommel. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the lad more rigid than a tree. He replaced the kerchief and rolled his eyes.. 

“You’ve been through some training I’ve been told, that’s good. But I’d suggest you relax your back before it breaks from strain.” He took his sword, which would appear to be slightly larger than the longsword, and with the flattened end, smacked Aaron in the back. It was gentle, like a nudge in the right direction. “You can -not- fight if your back will break by simply moving. Movement is key to gaining an advantage, rigidity will get you killed.”  

The Starag took the offered sword dutifully, and a little embarrassment flashed over his features as he was corrected. He jumped a little when the blade touched his back, probably from the tension as the tap couldn’t have hurt. Finally he did relax a little, posture still good but now perhaps capable of moving. 

Doing his best not to let his amusement show, Lucan nodded towards the youth and began the more boring part of the training. “You’ve been trained to slash, hack, parry, feint, advance, and retreat but I will teach you the true art of dueling. And by extension fighting as a whole, footwork.” He inclined his head to Aaron’s feet and smacked the footwear the boy was wearing. “Everything is about footwork, I will teach you how to move in circles around your opponent, how to block without utilizing too much energy and to utilize one handed parries to prepare you should you become a mage upon the awakening ceremony.”

The vampire paced around the blond, his voice even and never changing in pitch or timbre. “If you pay attention I can teach you to become a great swordsman, if you don’t.” He let the sentence hang and then shrugged, “well that won’t happen.” He knew of the Starags and of the high class they were raised with. “Now, let’s begin. Show me what you’ve learned thus far from those mages of yours.” He suddenly entered a ready stance, sword pointed down towards the ground, his fist enclosed tightly around the hilt, and his eyes changed in the gentle light to a much darker shade of violet.

His young trainee spun the sword in his hand with a flick of the wrist, eliciting a roll of the eyes from Lucan himself, as the teen twirled the blade like he was some magician enthralling a village. He had listened well at the very least, a telltale glance downward at the mention of possible failure, before moving rather easily into a ready stance reflecting Lucan’s own. He took a second and just looked forward, eyes wandering over Lucan’s body, probably looking for an opening. Suddenly, the boy inhaled sharply and sprang forward, launching off his back foot and going for a high hit.

And then everything fell apart rather quickly. Frustration quickly beginning to surface, but was aptly discarded and Lucan had to tell himself that this was not a Bordeleaux vampire he was training. Still, he executed his standard dueling mannerisms and would not take things easy on this boy.

‘1 and 2 a-.’ Ah, a quick attack. It was always a good priority to count how quickly an attack would reach you in combat, you got a better feel for tempo and it allowed for all sorts of mistiming feints and movements. As it was, Lucan had no need for such as the blond had a tell, his eyes giving away everything. The vampire let the enemy blade head towards his shoulder and then deftly blocked it at the very last second, which would no doubt unbalance the less experienced swordsman. He would then swing back around and smack Aaron on the side. 

“Dead.” Came the soft tenor as the vampire lowered his blade. “Stop staring at your target location before you strike, you give away your intentions. And stop breathing.” He hesitated and an amused smirk hit his face. “By that, I mean that you should become a statue in the beginning moments of a fight, you inhaled which told me the exact second you would attack. Try again.” And with that, Lucan would enter another ready stance, eyes once more darkening.

Aaron whipped his head around to look at the spot under his arm where he’d been hit. It was honestly a little bit funny, he was clearly shocked by the pace of it all. But, to his credit, he didn’t give away any clear frustration and simply took another stance, throwing himself at the vampire once again, going low. 

Lucan admired the boy’s spirit as he kept doggedly attacking the vampire time and time again. Over time the spoken ‘dead’s’ added up quite rapidly, the Bordeleaux never letting frustration enter his voice, continuing to speak at the exact same tone. It was clear the human was giving every single trick in his rather small arsenal a chance to shine against Luc but the experienced swordsman had seen it all at least once, and he deflected time and time again. “Footwork boy, what did I tell you? Move that way, not that way.” He smacked the boys thigh and pointed in a direction after a particularly bad dodge attempt. 

Overall the session moved swiftly and as the blond became more and more tired his moves got exceedingly sloppy and it was no use in continuing the blade dance. “Well, once again you’re dead.” Came the tenor line and Lucan pressed his blade into Aaron’s chest, not letting the top pierce flesh but enough to get his point across. This came after a particularly strong block which took Aaron’s blade away from him and sent it clattering away. “Work on your timings, and your breathing for the next session. Perhaps we won’t have as many dead kids then.” 

The boy’s skin glistened with sweat, a few locks of hair sticking to his forehead, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths, jugular thumping at a rapid clip. He kept his eyes trained on Lucan’s as he spoke, not shying away from the blade at his chest, and something burned within them that wasn’t there when they started. A certain intensity. He was clearly frustrated and visibly exhausted, but there was resolve there. He looked like he’d love nothing more than to throw himself at the vampire one more time, despite how spent he must have been. 

Lucan placed his blade on the ground and flipped out his handkerchief once more, wiping off his brow and looking down at his outfit to begin adjusting it. “So, how many times did you die exactly? Did you keep count?”

A sharp inhalation was all that was heard as a response and Lucan let a smile place itself onto his face. Well now, this was interesting. The Blond lurched forward and moved to take the Vampires feet out from under him and Luc simply hopped the clumsy strike and spun, bringing his leg up after it returned to solid ground to slam into Aaron’s chest and send him flying back onto his backside. Lucan stared at him for a moment and then stepped forward, kneeling and tilting his head. “What did I tell you about breathing dead boy?” 

The boy landed with a grunt and let his head fall back on the rubber floor, chest heaving, eyes staring blankly up at the vaulted ceiling. At Luc’s remark, he let a long breath out of his nose, the end of it coming out as an exasperated laugh. At once, his pent-up frustration seemed to melt away.

“I suppose I won’t need to now, will I?” he returned with a helpless chuckle, shielding his eyes with his forearm, “I died 112 times.”

“So you did keep count, interesting.” He offered his hand to the blond on the floor to help him up, his other once again brushing off some dust from his coat. “I wonder if the attendants actually dust this room.”

Aaron nodded and glanced up at the clock on the wall and practically jumped off the floor, rushing over to quickly but carefully gather what little he’d brought with him, taking a long swig from the last of a water bottle as he did so. “Maybe I won’t die as much tomorrow.” he stated hopefully, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He made it a few steps toward the door before he apparently remembered his finely-tuned manners and turned to offer Lucan a curt bow, adding, “Thank you sir.”

Luc placed his hands behind his back as Aaron stood and rapidly gathered up his belongings, and quenched his thirst. Secretly the Vampire was impressed that the lad hadn’t complained about the lack of breaks in the two hour session but would never let anyone know that. A very soft smirk graced his face again as Aaron repeated his words from earlier and then surprise would find its way onto the Vampiric visage, his control not enough to stop it as he was thanked. “How interesting you are Starag,” came the soft tenor, barely audible. 

Lucan just stood there, letting the practice room once again return to a dead silence.