we're only human {Elegant}
Aug 8, 2014 16:41:18 GMT -5
Post by Python on Aug 8, 2014 16:41:18 GMT -5
D E D R I C H A L E
The walls were alive with the echoes of huffing wolves. There was a stench of sweat and aggression wafting through the air, and the shadows of limbs danced across the floors – some holding steal and others settling for naked fists. Dedric found himself pacing about the room as he observed his careers in training. Dummies and targets littered the spacious layout of the loft, some more disheveled than others. He could hear fists pounding against rubber, steel weapons piercing straw, the determined grunts of hardworking teenagers, and the voices of future survivors. By now he had grown adjusted to all of the ruckus in his loft; it was his decision to offer this opportunity, after all, and as their teacher it was his responsibility to oversee their training. Therefore, the obnoxious thumps of battle had become background noise.
On days like this, Dedric was awake before dawn to complete his own exercise regimen. He wanted to avoid clashing times with his students’ training in order to minimize distraction and maximize his ability to focus on their strengths and weaknesses. Lately their progress had been steady. Soren was the most promising of all the underprivileged recruits – he was cautious, loyal, daring, yet Dedric could also sense a hesitation inside of him that might become dangerous in the arena. One could not hesitate to steal another human life if it came down to just blood and steel, but maybe it was too early in the training to drill that into the teen’s skull. They were all pretty inexperienced, and perhaps they had forgotten that this wasn’t just defense training – it was survival.
His sharp gaze flickered from one body to the next, examining their movements. Alita was launching arrow after arrow into the eyes of targets – no surprise there. She had natural talent, perhaps a bit too natural, but Dedric was not one to go prying into somebody’s past. He would let her hone her skills in peace, and possibly edge her closer to experimenting with other weapons. He was curious to see how she fared without a bow, because the right weapon was not always guaranteed in the arena.
Voices echoed to his left, drawing his attention to everybody’s “favorite” couple, Liela and Jairus. Listening to them gush left a bitter taste in his mouth. What did they think this was? Flirt o’clock? A chance to show each other off like trophies? Jairus hardly belonged here – he was already privileged and skilled, only bursting in on their training sessions to earn himself a sense of unique pride. Or at least that was Dedric’s guess. The hell if he knew anything about these damn people.
The only other stationary body in the room was the one most talented at concealing himself in Soren’s shadow, and Dedric actually managed to spot him from across the room. He was observing the activities like he normally did, a bit more quietly than usual. He often tagged along with Soren for whatever reason, and it made him wonder when the boy was actually going to pick up a weapon and try instead of just watching or goofing off or pining over Liela. He should probably have a word with him someday.
Vance, Erin and Icarus were in a cluster in the corner, taking turns pummeling a dummy with their weapons. He would smirk at their antics if he was in that sort of mood. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if they were being serious or playful, but either way the dummies would end up in shreds by sunset. They could be very eager and considerably vicious under the right circumstances, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. He thought of approaching them to snap them back into focus and remind them that this was not the time to joke around with friends. He decided to let it slide this time, however. They probably needed the stress relief.
His gaze wandered back to Soren, then back to Stiles. He wasn’t watching his best friend anymore, and when he followed the boy’s eyes it turned out that he wasn’t looking at Lielia or Jairus either. He actually looked a bit off, like something was bothering him. His face was considerably paler than usual, his eyes devoid of that usual spark of curiosity – it reminded him of a panicked puppy backed into a corner. It was odd, to say the least.
And then suddenly he was gone, hurriedly disappearing into another room without warning. It wasn’t even the exit, just a completely separate room that was normally off-limits to his students. My loft, my problem. He started toward the door and opened it to peer inside. He didn’t know much about the kid; only that he was hyperactive and spazzy and obnoxious when he talked, and that he never accomplished much during training sessions other than chatting up his best friend or oogling Liela from across the room. He didn’t even know what to say to the damn kid. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you in this room?” “My loft my rules, get out?”
”Stiles?”
He settled with that instead.
On days like this, Dedric was awake before dawn to complete his own exercise regimen. He wanted to avoid clashing times with his students’ training in order to minimize distraction and maximize his ability to focus on their strengths and weaknesses. Lately their progress had been steady. Soren was the most promising of all the underprivileged recruits – he was cautious, loyal, daring, yet Dedric could also sense a hesitation inside of him that might become dangerous in the arena. One could not hesitate to steal another human life if it came down to just blood and steel, but maybe it was too early in the training to drill that into the teen’s skull. They were all pretty inexperienced, and perhaps they had forgotten that this wasn’t just defense training – it was survival.
His sharp gaze flickered from one body to the next, examining their movements. Alita was launching arrow after arrow into the eyes of targets – no surprise there. She had natural talent, perhaps a bit too natural, but Dedric was not one to go prying into somebody’s past. He would let her hone her skills in peace, and possibly edge her closer to experimenting with other weapons. He was curious to see how she fared without a bow, because the right weapon was not always guaranteed in the arena.
Voices echoed to his left, drawing his attention to everybody’s “favorite” couple, Liela and Jairus. Listening to them gush left a bitter taste in his mouth. What did they think this was? Flirt o’clock? A chance to show each other off like trophies? Jairus hardly belonged here – he was already privileged and skilled, only bursting in on their training sessions to earn himself a sense of unique pride. Or at least that was Dedric’s guess. The hell if he knew anything about these damn people.
The only other stationary body in the room was the one most talented at concealing himself in Soren’s shadow, and Dedric actually managed to spot him from across the room. He was observing the activities like he normally did, a bit more quietly than usual. He often tagged along with Soren for whatever reason, and it made him wonder when the boy was actually going to pick up a weapon and try instead of just watching or goofing off or pining over Liela. He should probably have a word with him someday.
Vance, Erin and Icarus were in a cluster in the corner, taking turns pummeling a dummy with their weapons. He would smirk at their antics if he was in that sort of mood. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if they were being serious or playful, but either way the dummies would end up in shreds by sunset. They could be very eager and considerably vicious under the right circumstances, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. He thought of approaching them to snap them back into focus and remind them that this was not the time to joke around with friends. He decided to let it slide this time, however. They probably needed the stress relief.
His gaze wandered back to Soren, then back to Stiles. He wasn’t watching his best friend anymore, and when he followed the boy’s eyes it turned out that he wasn’t looking at Lielia or Jairus either. He actually looked a bit off, like something was bothering him. His face was considerably paler than usual, his eyes devoid of that usual spark of curiosity – it reminded him of a panicked puppy backed into a corner. It was odd, to say the least.
And then suddenly he was gone, hurriedly disappearing into another room without warning. It wasn’t even the exit, just a completely separate room that was normally off-limits to his students. My loft, my problem. He started toward the door and opened it to peer inside. He didn’t know much about the kid; only that he was hyperactive and spazzy and obnoxious when he talked, and that he never accomplished much during training sessions other than chatting up his best friend or oogling Liela from across the room. He didn’t even know what to say to the damn kid. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you in this room?” “My loft my rules, get out?”
”Stiles?”
He settled with that instead.
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