Fantasy All's Fair

[Conifer]

It was quick enough to gather together lunch - she'd left her request with the cook, with the instruction to not be too complicated with it all, and left ten minutes later with a small basket filled with sandwiches and various snacks, things to drink...the usual picnic acquisitions, complete with a blanket to lay in the grass. She spent the time she waited informing whoever needed to know that she'd be taking most of today off, and anything important had to at least wait until she'd returned to the castle. Remin had no doubt that there was going to have to be some amount of work done at some point today, but at least it would be bookended by a beautiful morning with Cyeria and a lovely evening in the bath, and then hopefully, a finally restful night.

It was a nice ride for the first bit of it, once they took off; the weather was complying with their ideas, and so the sun shone brightly with only a few drifting clouds cluttering up all the blue of the sky. Cyeria's question, though, caught Remin a bit off-guard. "I don't know." she admits after a moment of thought, which wasn't really an answer. "...I suppose you'd say that someone who fights cleanly and honorably would be a naive answer. I know there's few fights that are both of those, or even one of them." Not amongst soldiers, at least. Not amongst people who were properly fighting, and not people who were duelling over hurt pride. "The most important thing to me, I guess, would be -" She pauses for a moment, trying to find just the right word to express her answer to the question. "...would be to be better than your enemy. In whatever way you can. If you can't be stronger, be faster. If you can't be as ruthless, be more compassionate." It was, at least, the way to do things with words. "If you can't be more intimidating...be underestimated."

 

[Aerynth]

"No," Cyreia laughed. "As much as it pains me to say it, honor has never really played a major role in any of my victories." When it came to these things, she had always preferred the pragmatic approach. Having ideals was commendable, of course, but only a fool would follow them to the point of ending up in an early grave. Life wasn't a song. Cemeteries full of valiant knights proved it, and Cyreia didn't intend to join them. So what if she sometimes used underhanded means to avoid that fate? Nobody cared. Besides, if one were to examine the facts closely, none of her fights had been very fair in the first place. Most of her opponents had had an advantage over her, after all. Training, no matter how intense, could never really make up for the natural difference in their strengths. That was especially true since her enemies, too, had been trained professionals. Wasn't it only just for her to seek ways of eliminating that factor? Didn't it make everything more balanced, more fair?

"And that is a good answer." If nothing else, it showed that Remin's way of thinking was oriented towards victory. Towards survival, not towards illusions of valor. Cyreia liked that about her; this ability of hers to see through the smoke and mirrors and cut straight to the point. When asked this question, people with no combat experience tended to focus on one single trait. Usually on strength, sometimes on speed, though the trait itself didn't really matter. What did matter was not being able to see the whole picture. Not Remin, though. Never her Remin. "It is a bit vague, but I will show you some practical ways of achieving just that. Of ensuring that you'll be better than your opponent."

It didn't take them too long to find one of those clearings Remin had spoken about earlier. Cyreia jumped off her horse and gave her wife some time to put on the protective gear. After that, she handed her one of the wooden swords. "Attack me," she said, her tone completely serious. "You probably won't be able to land the hit, so don't hesitate and give it your best shot. In other words, act as if you mean to hurt me. I just want to see how you move naturally in combat situations before I really start instructing you." Focusing on correcting the mistakes in her stance and such would be far, far more effective than overwhelming her with theory. A good teacher always put greater emphasis on practice, after all.

 

[Conifer]

It wasn't long until they reached the intimidating part of all of this. The padding felt awkward and weighty how it hung on her (not quite a perfect fit, but that's what happened when most of your gear was aimed for people much more muscular and....masculine, traditionally, than you) but it was good enough, she supposed. It was better than ending up with bruises that she'd have to explain every time she spoke to someone for the next few weeks. The sword felt heavy in a way she wasn't used to, the whole thing feeling like a tacked-on extension that hadn't been calculated for her. She wasn't even sure how to handle it properly. If she were standing in any place but this private little hideaway, with anyone besides Cyeria, she'd feel much more embarrassed than she did; that's not to say she felt no embarrassment, but she knew that Cyeria knew how terrible at all of this she was going to be. Fixing that was the whole point of this daytrip.

It was infinitely obvious, likely even to someone far less skilled than Cyeria, that Remin's knowledge about all of this came only from books and acted-out scenes from plays. It wasn't terrible, but it was stiff and uneducated and incredibly predictable. She certainly didn't make a hit on someone as practiced as Cyeria was, and it would frankly be impressive if she managed to get a hit on anyone, nevermind how practiced they were.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia didn't need to do much in order to avoid the blow. Simply stepping aside sufficed, her movements practiced and economical and almost elegant, even if it was the elegance of a large cat hunting its prey rather than that of a swan. "Alright," she smiled at her wife, "that's enough for now. Hold that position for a second, would you?" Cyreia looked her up and down, trying to pinpoint where the main problem was. There were many things to work on, obviously, though... it honestly wasn't that bad, all things considered. Worse recruits had showed up at their doorstep throughout her long, long career; recruits that had still turned into exemplary soldiers after finishing their training. Remin wouldn't be subjected to it, but she didn't have to reach their level. Nobody wanted her to become a soldier. No, her wife just needed to handle the basics and she seemed to be more than capable of that.

"You're making it more difficult for yourself by gripping the sword too hard," she observed. "Holding it like that will do nothing but exhaust you pretty fast. Besides, if you are too stiff, an experienced fighter will just break your wrist. I'm speaking from experience when I say that the impact of a sword can shatter it easily. It's not a particularly fun feeling." As she spoke, Cyreia took Remin's hand and adjusted her grip slightly. "There, this is better. I also think that you should-- well. I know that it sounds counterintuitive, but you should relax a bit. You'll do better when you stop thinking about it." Which was, of course, easier said than done. How could she possibly assist her in reaching that state? Soldiers usually managed it through endless repetition, but Remin didn't have that much time. Was there anything else? Connecting it to something that feels familiar to her might work, I suppose. "Imagine that you're dancing and try again. You have to hit me once. I will dodge and parry, though I won't strike back for now, so you don't have to be too careful. Just focus on landing that hit." At the moment, Cyreia merely wanted her to get more comfortable with the sword; everything else would flow from there. "I will be giving you tips, too. Plus, if you do manage to hit me, there will be a special prize, so you'd better put in some real effort," she teased.

 

[Conifer]

"I haven't done competitive dancing." She laughs softly, but she tries to adjust. As much as she teases, she understands somewhat what Cyeria wanted from her. It wasn't about the dancing. It was about the muscle memory, the trust in her own body that she lacked in this context.
It didn't serve her perfectly, no matter how much she understood it in theory. Practice was different; practice was harder. This was not like dancing at all - hadn't she, at some point, compared the two herself? How Cyeria hadn't laughed at her naivety, gods. She wanted to laugh at herself now for being so naive. To her credit, though, no matter how many times failed to hit Cyeria, she kept trying. It was a frustrating few minutes, and she was left breathless with the exertion (she'd done nothing remotely like this in years, this sort of exercise. It was exhausting,) but eventually her sword collided with Cyeria's arm, just barely managing to scrape across it. In battle, it would be laughable, but here, she's left beaming.
"Gods, this is hard." Remin laughs, delighted with her tiny scrap of victory and taking a moment to regain her breath. "Fun - in this context at least, but hard. I think I'll take paperwork any day, rather than swinging a sword day in and day out."

 

[Aerynth]

To her surprise, it turned out that Remin's instincts were actually quite good. She lacked the finesse to best her in a fight, certainly, but the ideas behind her actions? Those seemed sound. They would serve her well once her body caught up to her mind. It was a good thing that it wasn't the other way around, really, because Cyreia wouldn't have known what to do with that. Challenging her thinking patterns in fundamental ways would have been infinitely more complicated; the mind simply wasn't as malleable, as open to changes. This, though? This could be fixed easily with some proper guidance, and guide her she did.

Despite never pausing to think (or even ceasing to move), Cyreia talked, talked and talked throughout the entire session. 'Not like that.' 'You're being too sloppy; put your weight into that hit.' 'Try it a little bit faster next time.' 'Don't just flail around, watch me for openings and target them instead.' 'While you're at it, watch your step, too.' 'Pay attention to your surroundings.' Most of her comments were critical, which only made the occasional 'good job, keep it up' all the more rewarding. Wrapping everything in compliments would perhaps have been more gentle with her ego, but more cruel in the long run. It would have also been dangerous. Remin had to be aware of her limitations in order to not get too confident. Confidence was good, though not when it led to recklessness.

"See, you're good at this!" she grinned at her wife, genuinely proud of her success. Letting her score one hit had been her plan the whole time, of course. She had meant to make her work for it, but eventually, Cyreia would have given her her first real taste of victory. That, too, served a purpose. There was no better way to motivate your students than letting them see some progress. In the end, though, it wasn't even necessary; one small mistake was all it took for Remin to break through her defenses on her own. "It's only hard because you haven't practiced enough, which can be easily amended. Persevere and soon, you'll be known as a great warrior queen. Your enemies will tremble at the very mention of your name," Cyreia teased. "Wanna rest for a while or can you go on? If you need some time to catch your breath, I could use the opportunity to explain a few key concepts to you before we continue." Talking about the more abstract aspects of swordplay would have been pointless before; it would have made no sense to her, similarly to how a blind person couldn't grasp the idea of colors. Surely she would understand now, though. At least some of it.

 

[Conifer]

"I think saying I'm good may just be flattery.' She laughs. Remin had known that Cyeria was an excellent warrior - she wouldn't have been declared a war hero if she wasn't - she'd likely not even be alive if she weren't, with how long she'd been involved in the war (what a terrible thought that was.) It was different, though, to see it in practice and be on the receiving end of her skill. It was, at least, the safe version of the receiving end to be on. She dreaded the thought of ever truly being against Cyeria. It wouldn't go well for her. Even if she had years to practice, Cyeria had a lifetime. "Let's rest a moment." She says, dropping her sword inelegantly into the soft grass and finding a nearby rock to rest against.
"You'd think it would be obvious that swinging a heavy stick around quickly would be exhausting," She comments, "But I have to admit that I entirely underestimated all of this. I didn't think it would be easy, of course, I just..." She trails off, letting a slight shrug finish out her train of thought. "Go on, then. Regale me with concepts. Those are probably much less of a workout."

 

[Aerynth]

"It isn't," Cyreia said, her expression earnest. "You are good, at least for someone who has never wielded a weapon before. For what it's worth, I think that you are talented. Which... yeah, it would do very little to save your life if you were to face someone more experienced than you, but it's true." Hopefully there would not be a situation when Remin had to do that, but-- it was wiser to prepare for the worst instead of pretending that no threats existed. If nothing else, Cyreia wanted to grant her a fighting chance. An option to defend herself with some amount of dignity instead of... well, instead of being slaughtered like a sheep. There weren't that many things she could give her wife, but this was within her reach.

"You'll get used to it," Cyreia smiled at her, pushing those dark thoughts away. There was no point to them. "Everyone's first training is a trial by fire, but your body can take a lot of abuse. What's even more interesting, it'll start to feel good after a while. You'll get addicted to it, really. It's bizarre how much I missed doing this." But back to their lesson; they had much to cover. Unlike Remin, Cyreia didn't sit down. Since there would be a demonstration fairly soon, it made no sense to do that. "Alright. Remember the question I asked you? The one about a warrior's most prized asset? There's no one correct answer, but if I had to name one thing that has consistently saved my life throughout my career, it would be my eyes." Was she pulling Remin's leg? It certainly didn't look like that; Cyreia seemed absolutely serious in that moment. "You see, swinging your sword around isn't everything. I'd even say that it's a fraction of what I do in every fight. The point is that you should only strike when you're certain that you can make it count. And how can you determine that? By looking. And you shouldn't be looking just at the sword, either, because that will only get you so far." She paused for a second, thinking of the best way to put this. Cyreia had never really trained anyone, so the right words didn't come to her easily. They never did. "Everything in the human body is connected," she finally began. "I'm sure that you felt that when you were fighting me. You never moved just your arm; the rest of your body moved in harmony with your intent. And so, to an extent, every attack is telegraphed even before it's obvious to everyone what exactly is coming. For example, if your opponent is going for a horizontal slash, their shoulders will almost always move like this," she showed her the move, "shortly before they lift their sword. There are tells such as this one for... well, for pretty much anything your opponent can do. If you watch and analyze the situation correctly, you will always, always be faster than your opponent. You will practically see into the future," Cyreia smiled at Remin warmly. "Being able to react to what you're seeing is another problem, but this is what you should learn first. Any questions? Do you understand what I've said so far?"

 

[Conifer]

If she was faced with someone more experienced than her that truly wanted her dead, even with this training, Remin knew she served little chance of making it out of that alive. But that wasn't the goal, not really. She couldn't save herself, but she could /protect/ herself (or hopefully would be able to a little bit, by the end of today, or by the end of their lessons together). Protection meant buying herself time until someone who could truly do some good could get there. Protection meant leaving her attacker with a wound, something that would weaken them and make it harder for them to hide. Protection meant that she wasn't just standing there and letting herself be felled like a tree, rooted in place and useless against the saw. Protection was a matter of pride. Maybe someday she'd get to the point where she could save herself, but this would be more than enough for now.

"I understand it in theory well enough." Remin agrees. This was fun, really - she'd spent so much of the time since they'd been married teaching Cyeria of things, and now the positions were entirely reversed. She knew her wife was smart, and she knew she was good at all of this - but it was thrilling to listen to her talk so confidently about things Remin knew nothing about. Maybe when things were quieter they could find other things like this that Cyeria could teach her of. That would be nice. Hopefully it would be something less exhausting, but if it meant that she got to witness the confidence that she could see now, and if it meant that she could be looked at like she was now, all warmth and understanding, then she would allow it to be as exhausting as she had to. It would be worth it. "This part sounds more like dancing, at least." It didn't have the benefit of being able to physically feel your partner's movements beginning, but that was an easy enough adjustment (she hoped.) "I suppose part of the goal is to make your movements as unpredictable as possible, so this can't be as effectively on you?"

 

[Aerynth]

"In theory, yes," Cyreia nodded. "It's a good idea to be mindful of your body language, though you can never eliminate those tells entirely. Even if you're aware of them, you can't just... make your body behave like something it's not. Your muscles are still connected in a certain way and so they move accordingly. In many cases, trying to change it would be like trying to stop your own heartbeat." Hopefully her explanations weren't too chaotic. It all made perfect sense to Cyreia, but did it sound clear to anyone else? That wasn't at all obvious. People had told her that she thought in strange ways before, after all. Could anyone else relate to it? Maybe worrying about that was stupid, though. Remin had understood her better than anyone else so far; perhaps even better than she understood herself, honestly. It would be scary, the way she just looked at her and knew, if it wasn't so soothing instead. If it wasn't like finally finding a piece of home she had never had.

"The best way to avoid having your movements read is not attacking. They just can't read what isn't there. Circle them, observe them, let them attack you first and punish them for their mistakes. In other words, fight defensively. There are also other ways to do this - you can learn how to bait certain attacks if you're daring enough - but for now, I'd focus on this if I were you. It's safer." Or at least as safe as any of this could be. They were still talking about killing people, after all, and people usually did everything in their power to avoid being killed. More often than not, blind panic overtook them and that-- that was the truly dangerous part of it. You couldn't analyze that, not really; at least not in the same way you could reliably recognize an incoming wrath blow or a feint. Those things just happened too fast. Cyreia would teach Remin how to deal with such situations later, though. Baby steps. That's what we need to take.

"I'll show you the most common ways of attacking and how to recognize them. Bear in mind, though, that my advice only really applies to situations when you're facing a single opponent. If there were more of them, what would you do?" Cyreia didn't expect her to come up with a perfect solution, but so far, Remin had proved to be clever, with an almost intuitive grasp of what needed to be done. Perhaps she could come up with something useful and if she did, then it would feel infinitely more satisfying to her than if Cyreia told her outright. It would stick in her mind better, too. Ideas just worked like that.

 

[Conifer]

"Not stand a chance, for one." She laughs. It shouldn't be this easy to joke while speaking about what very well may be a terrible situation that could lead to her death, but...maybe that's why she found it easier to make light of it. Facing the reality was a much more heavy concept. She was taking this seriously, though, and so she gives her real answer a moment of thought. "If I could, then I'd attempt to position myself so that only one can reach me at a time. If I can't, then try to position myself so that no one can get behind me. Beyond that, I have no idea." There were too many situations where she wouldn't be able to do either of those - her solutions required tight spaces, required walls, which she wouldn't always have the blessing of.

 

[Aerynth]

"That's... actually an insightful analysis," Cyreia said with a smile. "The odds of you escaping unscathed wouldn't be too high. That's true for everyone, by the way, and not just for the beginners. I'd struggle as well." Even if Cyreia had survived such situations, she wasn't convinced that it hadn't been a lucky coincidence. Her skill had played a role in it as well, of course, but to what extent? Probably smaller than she would have liked to admit. There had been too many things that had been entirely out of her control. Didn't it always come down to luck in the end, though? Training and skill could only get you so far.

"But there are certain things you can do to increase the likelihood of your survival. The best thing you can do is to run away, but let's assume for the sake of argument that you can't. The door is locked. What do you do?" Cyreia let her words hang in the air for a moment to give them greater gravity. "You've mentioned positioning already and you were right to do it. Not showing them your back is immensely important. And what do you do then? You raise your sword," Cyreia did so as she spoke, "and then you slash, slash and slash, as quickly as you can, and you do it diagonally. As if... as if you were trying to write the letter X with your blade, I suppose." Once again, Cyreia showed it to her, her movements so lightning-fast the sword in her hand was reduced to a blur. "This technique can both protect you from attacks and hurt your opponents. The downside is that it is exhausting, so you can't go on for too long, and if you're not quick enough, it will just create an opening your enemies can exploit. It still beats doing nothing, though. And if you're attacked by people who wield daggers instead of swords - and this is actually the more likely scenario, since I don't imagine that you're planning to challenge your enemies to duels - then doing this will shred them to pieces. A dagger can't compete with a sword; it has no reach. They won't be able to get close enough to lay a finger on you." There was another thing that worried her, though, and it showed in her expression. It suddenly grew grim.

"It sounds simple - and it is, in a way - but I need to make sure that you understand one thing. When you find yourself in a dangerous situation and have to take up the sword, you cannot afford to show mercy to anyone. Not a hint of it. Remember what I did with Vestat? You can't do these things. You don't have the skill needed to just... incapacitate people. When you fight, you should always aim to kill. Are you comfortable with that?"

 

[Conifer]

What Cyeria had to say next was slowly growing more and more evident to Remin as she continued - there was no mercy in her quick movements. There was no understanding, there was no compassion. There was just desperation. It terrified her. Every time she took up this clunky wooden sword was clean as anything on paper - spotless as a napkin before a meal. There was no innocence lost here. It was no worse than reading a book, or hearing a lecture. But books and lectures didn't physically train your body to do what it had to to protect you (or, in some other terrible world, do what it had to do to harm.) All that Remin could see as Cyeria came back to a rest in front of her, explaining the virtues of fighting against daggers, was herself, pressed to a corner, no escape but through. All her jokes felt like ash against her tongue.

She could do nothing but answer honestly. Being anything else would benefit neither of them. "...As queen," Remin says, clear as she can, steady as she can - herself tucked away, as she'd done countless times before, "Yes. I am capable of anything that I must be." It wasn't a line she had practiced deliberately, but it was one that she lived regardless; she would do what she had to for her kingdom. She would study books and maps and scrolls and ignore the sound of the staff's children's laughter in the courtyards, she would listen to tutors drone on about foreign powers, she would sit in her father's study with her parents and play at strategy. She would press on through her parent's deaths (murders, gods,) she would marry a war hero of the country that would destroy them had they not surrendered. She would kill, if she had to, and she wouldn't falter for it. But: "...as anything else, gods, no. Of course not, and I dread the person who is." She lets that control drift away once more - it had little place in this clearing - and she simply looked young and scared of the possibilities laid before her.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia watched Remin, her expression unreadable. Just about anything could go on behind those eyes; they seemed calm, almost lifeless, and yet there was so much in them. Then, after a few heartbeats, she lowered her sword and caressed her face. "You dread me as well in that case," she pointed out, the nature of her words in sharp contrast with the softness of her tone. With the care that could be found in it. "I don't even know how many people I killed," Cyreia continued despite her better judgment, despite knowing very well that Remin might resent her once she realized who exactly she was dealing with. That her soldier wasn't a knight in shining armor. Didn't she know? She must have, at least on a subconscious level, though Cyreia imagined that it had been easy to ignore up until now. Nothing about her behavior painted her as an especially violent person; the blood on her hands had been hidden by jokes and smiles. That didn't mean it wasn't there, though.

"And frankly? I don't care. It was either me or them and I decided long ago that I liked myself better." Should she feel ashamed of it? As horrible as it must have sounded to Remin, Cyreia simply didn't. Self-preservation wasn't a sin. Those who framed it as such usually did so from the safety of their fancy offices and lecture halls. Unlike her, they could afford these thought experiments. That was all it was to them, wasn't it? Just a philosophical puzzle; something to amuse themselves with as they pushed the responsibility to kill on those who couldn't say no. It needed to be done, but never by them, of course. How curious.

"Does it scare you?" Cyreia asked. 'Do I scare you?' would have been the more fitting question here, though she didn't dare to go so far. Not when the answer could be so much more than she was capable of handling.

 

[Conifer]

"Of course it does." Remin replies, soft and slow and intentional. She didn't shy away from Cyeria, or from her question, or from the much more personal one that hung silently between them - it would be stupid to. There was no point to hiding it from herself or from Cyeria; they both knew the answer before the question was even asked, even if they didn't know they did. Did she fear Cyeria, though? In this moment, no. She couldn't. Even with the blood on her hands, even with her own admission of bodies that lay in her wake. Perhaps she was foolish - it was as easy to pretend that those were all fantastical stories. She hadn't seen otherwise, even if she knew otherwise to be true - but she wasn't trying to hide the truth from herself. She knew it, and she understood it, and it did terrify her, but it was all abstracts that she couldn't name or place, done by a man who didn't exist. "But that doesn't mean much of anything." Remin continues. "My fright matters very little in all of this, and...you had little choice. It was your job. It was what kept you safe."

 

[Aerynth]

"That it did," Cyreia replied, equally slow and deliberate. Did Remin's admission hurt her? Yes. No. Maybe. All of the answers seemed valid for wildly different reasons. It wasn't her wife's fault, of course. Remin had showed her far more understanding than most people in her situation would have, and Cyreia was grateful for that. Expecting more would have been foolish. Why, then, did it feel so strange? So heartbreaking? Would her condemnation have made her happier?

"Sometimes, though, I wonder whether that is a good thing," she heard herself saying. It didn't sound like her, Cyreia thought, and yet it couldn't have been anyone else. They were alone here, after all. Just them, the trees and awkward silence. "It's not that I am unhappy about it. I'm glad to be here with you," she added quickly. God, none of it made any sense, did it? The logic behind it was so dubious, so dreamlike, that it barely deserved to be called logic in the first place. Still, Cyreia wanted her to understand. Desperately needed her to understand. "It's-- well, it's complicated. When I did all those things, I assumed that, eventually, I would end up just like them. It seemed fair. Balanced, in a way. Now I'm here, though, and I have you and a chance to start anew and... and they're still dead. It feels wrong." Who would have guessed that one day, she would be able to be so devastatingly honest with someone? Certainly not her. Hell, Cyreia wasn't sure that she had ever admitted this to herself, much less to anyone else. It was overwhelming, in all possible interpretations of that word, and she didn't know what do do with that feeling. That, if nothing else, wasn't new. There had been so many new feelings since her arrival in Athea. Where had they been hiding all this time? As with most questions, no answer came to her. "I'm sorry," Cyreia whispered, suddenly unable to look at Remin. Her hands shook a bit and she hated it, hated this sign of weakness that was plain for all to see. "I know I promised this to be fun, but apparently I can't be trusted."

 

[Conifer]

Remin frowns softly, and reaches out to to take Cyeria's shaking hands in her steadier ones, as if that little amount of grounding could help. This situation was far more fraught that could be fixed with touch - but gods, she would try whatever she could to take that broken look from her wife's face. "And that," she says softly. "Is why I'm not afraid of /you/, darling. I'm terrified of the person who could live through all of that and it not weigh on them at all. You say you're comfortable with killing, but someone comfortable with it wouldn't kneel before me and apologize for the conversation. They wouldn't doubt the worth of their own living."
She reaches, cupping Cyeria's cheek in her hand and running her thumb over the soft skin there. "We'll make it balanced. We'll do the good that you passed for all of that death for, even if you didn't know it's what you were passing through it for. There's no returning their lives, but we - but /you/ can make it so that your still being alive doesn't feel so unbalanced. It may take time, but you have power now. We'll get there."

 

[Aerynth]

Her first instinct was to yank her hand away, to go lick her wounds somewhere where nobody could see her, but-- she wasn't alone anymore and so she didn't do that. Instead, Cyreia squeezed her wife's hand softly. In that moment, it felt like the only steady part of her universe. Did Remin know how much she needed her? How lost she would have been without her support? Because, at times, it seemed as if she was the only thing standing between her and the abyss that threatened to swallow her whole. The dark place that called her when there was nothing to do, nothing to think about, nobody to talk to.

"I... still don't know whether I can do this," Cyreia admitted. "Sometimes, it feels as if I've wasted too much time in there and now I can't catch up." What was she alluding to? To all those nights Remin had spent alone in that office, slavering away because she had had to perform tasks meant for two people? Well, yes. To that and to all the other things. To the fact that, ultimately, Cyreia really wasn't good for anything but killing and how she felt about it didn't matter. They had shaped her like this, after all. A tree that had been bent could never grow straight again, could it? Maybe she wasn't like that proverbial tree, though. Maybe something could be done about all of this. With Remin by her side, no obstacle seemed unsurmountable. "But yes, you are right. You always are," she smiled gently and kissed her on her forehead. "Even if I prove to be completely incompetent, I still have to try." That, at least, would give her a worthy goal to pursue. A mission, and Cyreia was not one to abandon her duty. No, not just her duty. Their duty. They would see it through even if they had to dedicate their lives to it.

She allowed herself a minute or two to linger in Remin's arms, enjoying her closeness. And honestly, why not? They had left the castle behind for the express purpose of not having to play the roles people had assigned to them. The moment couldn't last forever, though. Sooner or later, Cyreia had to get a hold of herself. Sooner. Sooner is the better option. "Well. Would you like to continue with the training now?" she asked after a while. "Despite... despite all of this, I still believe that self-defense is a good skill for you to learn. I don't think I could cope with it if something happened to you."

 

[Conifer]

"If I can learn to wield a sword well enough for offer myself any sort of protection," Remin says as she stands, though she takes a moment before to press a kiss to Cyeria's cheek, "then I think you can learn how to put one down. But not yet, because I need someone to teach me." She teases softly, trying to drag them away from the morbid line they'd fallen into. Maybe they'd talk of it more (she was almost sure that this wouldn't be the last time that Cyeria's worries reared their heads,) but for now, they only had limited time to do this all in. They might scrape together an hour or two to practice in the armory now and then, but it would be a long while until they had this sort of time and privacy to devote to clumsy swordplay. "However," She says, raising her eyebrows. "I believe that I was promised a prize if I managed to hit you. And if I'm recalling correctly, I hit you."

Despite her teasing, her playfulness, the conversation hadn't left Remin entirely. It wouldn't do that for a long while, if it ever did; her thoughts, though, shifted towards the future. Would she be faced with a day where she'd wish that she'd spent more time being serious about all of this? But, gods. She had been serious for so long. It was so nice to leave that all behind at the castle for the day. She would likely come to regret it, but in this moment, she'd regret taking advantage of this rare moment of irresponsibility. She'd remember that when she was on the edge of death. That would definitely, absolutely, make it worth it.

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia wasn't stupid. She may have been many things - some of them less than good - but not even an enemy of hers would describe her with that particular adjective. It was oh so easy for her to see what Remin wanted to do. That didn't mean, however, that she didn't appreciate it. Having someone who tried to drag her back into the light instead of being forced to do it herself felt... strange, though not unpleasant. More like strange in a 'too good to be true' way. Was it? Was it too good to be true? What if Remin truly had some ulterior intentions after all? No, of course not. Cyreia knew it to be true, believed it more than she believed in herself (which, honestly, was a low bar to pass at this point). The doubts only sprang up in her mind because they had the right conditions to grow; they thrived in dark places. People didn't, though, and relationships didn't, either. No, she had the responsibility to leave that mindset behind. Remin could encourage her, but ultimately, it was up to her to make that step. That would never change.

"I did say that," Cyreia smiled, trying her best to think happy thoughts, "though I never specified when I was going to give you the reward, did I? Patience is a virtue, my queen. You'd do well to practice it from time to time." The reality of the situation was that she just didn't have the proper equipment for what she had in mind, though... Did that matter? They could always enjoy each other's company in a different way. "It is true that you did very well, though. Perhaps I can give you something else in the meantime." Without further ado, Cyreia leaned forward and kissed her. It was deep and drawn-out and needy; everything they hadn't found time for in those past few days, and it only made her hungry for more. God, how had she ever been able to stay away? Certain things would always remain a mystery, it seemed. "I missed this so much," she admitted when their lips finally parted. "I've been neglecting you, Remin. Criminally so. I really should make it up for you today."

 

[Conifer]

The kiss came as no large surprise, and yet it still rendered Remin breathless, her heart quite loud in her chest by the time they parted. They'd done that plenty before (never enough, though,) but as of late, their chances to do so didn't come quite as readily as they had as when they were on the road. It was more private in the castle, guards not following them around nearly everywhere, but they saw so much less of each other due to the business that there simply hadn't been much opportunity to sneak off into privacy and spend time together like that. "I think we've been equally neglecting," she says, settling a hand on Cyeria's hip to keep her close. "So perhaps we can equally make up for it." It was hardly even late morning yet; they had plenty of time to do things besides train, and plenty of time to train still. This was...important for morale. Yes. Exactly. That's exactly what it was, and so it would be foolish to try to resist it. Spending time with her love was important for her morale, and vice versa.
And so when Remin drags her into another kiss, deep and just as needy as the last one had been, trying to make up for lost time, it was for morale. No other reasons, of course. She wishes that she'd dragged out the blanket for their lunch before all of this, because it would be nice to have somewhere to sit that wasn't simply grass, but what did it being grass matter? She didn't take the initiative of dragging Cyeria down to sit among the dirt, though - if she wanted to continue their swordfighting, Remin would go along with it easily, and she didn't want to take that decision away from her teacher.

 

[Aerynth]

"That sounds fair," Cyreia noted. She wanted to continue, wanted to say something clever, but Remin pulled her into another kiss and-- well, words weren't really necessary here, were they? God, she was just so touch-starved. One would have thought that married couples didn't have to deal with these problems, but here they were, hiding in a forest and stealing kisses from each other like some teenagers. It wasn't... entirely unappealing, to be honest. The fact that anyone could see them here? That it would land them into trouble? Knowing that somehow made it even more exciting. Forbidden fruit and all that, Cyreia supposed, before her thoughts melted in Remin's touch. At some point, the sword fell out of her hand, but she had stopped caring about that a long time ago; holding her wife was far more important than fake steel. More important than anything.

"We should stop," Cyreia concluded, breathless, when they parted for the second time. "This is not a good place to be doing this." Saying that, however, couldn't prevent her from kissing her again. At this point, nothing could. She was far too sweet, far too pliant in her arms, and not kissing those soft lips almost seemed like a crime. Somehow, they ended up in the grass. Thankfully, it hadn't been raining, so sitting on the ground wasn't too unpleasant-- though even if it had soaked in water, she might not have noticed. Remin was way too distracting for such petty concerns. "As I said, it's not a good idea." That had never really stopped her before, though; if anything, it only served to encourage her. Without really thinking about it, Cyreia unfastened the protective chest piece in one swift motion. That was what they had taught her to do with obstacles, wasn't it? To remove them. Right now, the barrier standing between her and her wife's skin certainly deserved to be removed; its existence appeared to be downright outrageous. "I want you so much," she admitted quietly before pulling her into her lap. There had been more elegant ways of saying it, but elegance seemed to be out of her reach now. The desire clouding her eyes kind of pushed these things into the periphery.

 

[Conifer]

The sound of Cyreria's sword slipping from her hand into the soft dirt at their feet, wood thudding lamely against the ground, went entirely unnoticed in favor of the closeness of the other woman; had Remin noticed it, though, she might have have taken it as a sign to intensify this whole situation herself. It was the white flag of surrender to their want - just wooden and vaguely pointy. She didn't notice it, though, and so she simply responded: responded eagerly to their movement to sit, the grass cool beneath them (a thrilling reminder of where they sat, in this hidden openness,) to Cyeria kissing her again and again with kisses of her own, to their clumsy landing in the grass with not a thought or care of how they ended up or how it might look to someone who stumbled in. No one would, though - she was confident enough about that to not protest when Cyeria reached for her protective gear.

"Then you have me, my love," it's an admission as much as it isn't, just as much as it's a reassurance to them both as much as it is terrifying to say, and she assumes, hear. Maybe it's foolish to admit as such after that whole conversation they were barely recovered from, but it's not a full admission. It's a scrap of one; a puzzle with some pieces missing that does little to hide the 'I'm in love with you' that lurks in the image but does enough that there's some safety in imaging the rest of it. "We've been following exclusively good ideas since we returned." she presses kisses against Cyeria's jaw, and neck, and shoulder, eventually meeting the fabric of her top and continuing despite it. Remin's hands, though, find skin to rest against, under that said shirt - skimming up her sides, over-warm from the exertion from before and the exertion from now. "I think we're allowed to follow bad ones sometimes."

 

[Aerynth]

Had it been so hot before? Cyreia didn't think so. The weather had been nice from the very beginning, true, but the faint sunlight had barely been strong enough to make her undo some of the buttons on her shirt. Now, though? Something had set her blood ablaze; every touch, every kiss only fed the flames further and it was all just so much that she knew nothing would remain of her if nobody put them out. That they would consume her whole, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. Maybe that was exactly what she wanted, though. Hadn't Cyreia meant to burn her old self, after all? To discard Avther and his wars so that she could be born anew, this time as someone this country needed? Doing so through Remin only felt appropriate; yes, let the fire cleanse her, yes to all of this. Never before in her life had she been so certain of desiring something, so completely at peace-- and then that peace was shattered with two words. My love. For a second or two, it didn't register to her. The intensity of the moment made sounds reach her ears slower than they normally would have, and interpreting what they meant took even longer. When it finally happened, though, it hit her like a hammer.

Oh. Oh, indeed. Cyreia couldn't help but stare at Remin, too overwhelmed to be able to respond to her touches. It was... well. A formality, really, when taking into account everything they had gone through together, and yet it was so much more than that that she had to fight tears. Throughout this strange dance if theirs, it had consistently been her who had taken the first step. Their first kiss, their first admission of sympathies, that first night together. Not that she regretted it - of course not, not in the slightest - but witnessing Remin break the pattern and taking the plunge at her own pace, unprompted by her own actions, did things to her. No matter what happened from now on, Cyreia would always have this; this nonchalant not-confession that made her heart sing. "I assume that you meant that," she finally said, her voice hoarse. Her hands somehow ended up under her shirt, one of them on her back and one of them on her hip, though rather than it being adventurous, it felt as if she was simply looking for support. How could one woman hold her together and take her apart within the course of five minutes? "Because if not, then I will look very, very foolish when I say that I love you. And I'm saying just that, in case it wasn't clear. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself."

 

[Conifer]

"You do look very, very foolish." Remin says softly. "But not for what you said. You have some grass in your hair." The unsteadiness of her hands reveals her nerves if Cyeria hadn't caught onto that already, but she fishes the blade of from Cyeria's dark hair and tosses it aside as if she was simply doing it for the sake of it, and not searching for some release valve for her anxieties in the focused gesture. It does little good, but it gives them bother a moment to just exist. She'd taken the first step, yes, but somehow she hadn't expected Cyeria to take the second (third? fourth?) Though really she should have learned better by now; there was little that her wife didn't do intensely. This was apparently no exception. She speaks again, more earnestly than her teasing. "I think I've said before that I tend not to say things I don't mean." That rule had been admittedly stretched a little thin with all the forced deception, but-- that wasn't something she enjoyed. It wasn't a habit she wanted to keep up. Honesty made everything move a little smoother, and it gave no one any reason to doubt your word. "Especially with you."

Despite her saying what she had and despite Cyeria's reaction to it, she couldn't bring the rest of the words to her lips with the ease that Cyeria had managed. Maybe it was the location - too open, too spacious, too much potential - or maybe it was something else that caused this swell of unsteadiness. Maybe it was the thought that it was reciprocated, however roundabout that answer sounded. Still. She'd said enough. Maybe she'd manage the rest of it sooner or later, but for now she could get away with dissolving the need for her to say anything else with another kiss. This one has no clear direction, even if the ones just before had; it was a kiss to fill space, not a kiss to lead anywhere, but it was no less intense for it.