i hear Anal,,,,

notajerkbender:

listen

❛ I wonder how the war would have ended had you been the world’s avatar at the time. ❜

stalworth:

     Arms spread apart, he lashed through into open angles until bringing his strokes into circular motions, rapidly overlaying the length of his arms. A flash of steel, as it were. He did not overexert his muscles ---- the two halves were lighter than the steel of a single broadsword, for indeed they were intentionally allocated to either spectrum. ‘Twas a matter of balance, and while the dual-wield did not offer any other advantage than the obvious ( one clashes and the other strikes, deadlier still than the combination of shield and arm ), it demanded speed, and the skill to utilise such speed.

    The practiced swordsman spread out his footfalls, inclining one leg outward and descending to accommodate the shift, before striking at full length at the adversary’s sides. A clash of metal could be heard, and a second blade followed thereafter. Accompanying one moiety of his broadsword, he retracted the object at the last moment, heaving his shoulder to hammer into his opponent. The blow had been enough to disorient, and knock his challenger to the floor.

    He had won, clean and simple, and his victory meant little. He said nothing as he relaxed his position, mulling over his first impression of the school -- a poor one, at that. He was trying, he could give him that much -- after a moment of hesitation, he offered a hand to help him back up. Despite his semblance, the gesture was only tepid.

didoumi:

     If it hadn’t clicked before, it certainly did now. Here before him was an Altus, in the flesh. A position, a title, a legacy he had occupied not too long ago ; one savagely ripped away from him, as had been the structure of his visage, and wisps of his sight. How alarmed, and how unimpressed he was by the feigned ignorance and condescension of the mage. Zuko had not thought to conceal his accent, only strung together words of speech that would befit a commoner ; there was no suspicion as to him being otherwise. He had espied this man a fair number of times, he recalls, when compelled to flank his father to balls of great importance. Azula’s preening was enough to suck in attention for two, though it did not make him quite the shadow he would have hoped. Once he might have placed the house name instantly, yet now he wouldn’t even consider it – that was not his life now.

    For all he knew, he was in the presence of a great practicer of blood magic himself -- blood magic his uncle had instructed him sparsely, and cautiously, with. No magic was corrupt by nature, he was told, it was its wielder that made it so.

    His father, or what he had known to be his father, had blessed him with one advantage. With such injury, nobody would stare for too long at his countenance, sparing him the chance of recognition. Certainly not an Altus, one he assumed to be of great elegance – why linger on such unpleasant sights?

    ❛ A remote Circle, yes. ❜ He means to end this portion of the discussion hastily -- if his semblable would not desist, then the conversation would have to be led elsewhere. ❛ My condolences. I trust he did some good to our Nation’s name. ❜

    Love his Nation he must, he did, his intentions were by no means at their service. What good was it to speak, to remember, to hope for more, in a land he was no longer welcome? The threat coiled around his throat like a snake, constricting him, depriving his lungs of air. There was no place for him there any longer, or so he must believe. 

    ❛ Yes, you must be desperate. Had we been in Tevinter, you wouldn’t have looked at me twice. ❜ The apprehension, the confusion, the danger appeared to vanish to give way for something more, though his mien was still reticent. He could not place the exact source of his bitterness. If they had met in Tevinter, it would be under the guise of false smiles, and modest compliments. Perhaps it was all that the man represented that riled him up so. All that he had lost. First his magic, and for a time, he was forced to bear the shame as the sole rogue of a most high-esteemed family. Then his mother, without a trace, or a single farewell. Finally, his blood, his title, his right to live had all been stripped away from him, until he was left with nothing but what he himself could muster, and cast away into the wilderness. Yes, he had every reason to be bitter, resentful, even it was delivered under false accusations.