biting waves [open]

[CECILIA S.]

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[cs=2] She still hated the beach. The sand felt foreign under her now wet boots, buckling under her weight with an uncomfortable ease as opposed to the hard forestry floors she had grew up fighting upon. The salty air, thick of fish and sea-weed choked her and the usually landlocked woman found herself breathing awkwardly to avoid smelling the smallest amount of brine possible. The waves lapped against Cecelia, as she positioned herself into a fighting stance calf deep in the chilly shallows, pushing her towards the shore before pulling her back towards the ocean in a lulling, almost fey-like force. She didn’t like the beach, no, however the pirate situation the she had witnessed the other day made it quite apparent an attack would most likely come from the shore. Thus, like it or not, Cecelia had to learn to fight from the shore. She was still just standing, as the early morning sun rose from the forests of the east, right hand holding the hilt of her sheathed sword, feet rooted to the ground, instinctively stiff to fight the lulling current. She lifted a leg, slowly, awkwardly, taking note of the change in balance between herself and the ocean. She then repeated the process with her other leg before, in a single, fluid and practiced motion, drawing her sword with a lunge towards an imaginary enemy’s abdomen. She immediately pulled up on her sword, slicing it in an uppercut before slashing to the left, turning slightly to attack a new aggressor. The momentum was then used to further the spin attack as Cecelia turned once again to- An unexpected surge pushed her towards the shore, causing the then one-footed Cecelia to franticly stumble in a vain attempt to regain her footing before finally tripping into the waters with a splash. She had thankfully twisted her body to land on her rear and hands, miraculously managing to keep the sword not only in her hands but from cutting her as she fell. Water splashed everywhere, effectively soaking the woman as she winced in pain from the impact. She pushed up as soon as she could, thrusting herself back up on her feet before stumbling forward, then backwards a little bit. Her eyes stung a bit and she spat out disgustingly salty water as she tried to regain her footing in the ever-shifting ocean.
[cs=2] shattered sea glass of the sky

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[Deleted]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,background-color: #EBEBEB;] ◤ ◥ TAGS Cecilia WORDS 649 NOTES omg long post Eerie wooden creaks from slow melodic rocking shook the room Fenryl was resting in. Every now and then the floor would lurch, and his stomach along with it. No matter how often he’d travel on boat to get to the other Peninsula Islands, that infernal rocking, sweetly swaying from one side to another, momentum on everything aboard be damned. Merpeople, especially in their merperson form, simply weren’t designed for boats. But he had a good catch of food today. Two small wild pigs were slain, enough to grant some bacon for the next two weeks at least. Sprinting through the forestry of Lavendula Island, setting traps as he stalked his prey…it sure reminded him of darker times. Fortunately this time their inedible parts had already been removed prior to going on the ship – Fenryl had learned the hard way not to gut a pig on a boat, and carrying the entire body back to his rented inn room was a drag, not to mention indiscreet. So in a huge cooling box Fenryl had brought along, the meaty soon-to-be-tasty innards were chilled and preserved. The only thing he regretted he supposed was that he hadn’t had the opportunity to wash his hands yet, or his sword. But un- “Ughhhhhh,” he groaned aloud as his skin went paler, forcing himself to swallow some more water from his canteen. When will this end… he thought dismally, mind clouded as his insides rolled over themselves. But then the bell signalling the docking! FINALLY. Jumping up into his Human form, he heaved the box over his shoulder by the handle and ran out to enjoy sweet solid ground. As always, Fenryl took the moment to enjoy the irony of a Merman desiring ground over a boat before stepping forward, pacing quickly off the pier to the white brilliance of Rosa Beach. The crunch of the sand beneath his boots, Fenryl turned to the salty waves to clean himself up before heading to Town. Washing his face and hands of any remaining blood, he unsheathed his sword, its sleek magenta colouring with a hollowed blade gleaming dully under the cake of the pigs’ blood. Using the edge of his shirt and careful not to cut himself, he cleaned it. Sheathing it with a casual twirl though, he picked at his clothes, stained red and dirty. Ah well… But movement then caught his eye, darting a grey gaze to the source. Moving long purple hair out of his vision, the Merman saw…a woman…with a sword? She seemed to be battling against the heaviness of the waves to train her body…an interesting technique. Her form though…that still needed work. Looking down to his own blade fastened and sheathed to his right hip, he wondered… Why does she fight? His gaze narrowed. But curiosity overwhelming him, if only to observe her technique more closely, he picked up his things and walked towards her just a particularly strong wave crashed around her shins. She lost her balance, spiking Fenryl’s heartbeat briefly as she narrowly avoided the blade’s edge. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips. Yet with a slight smirk, he walked up to her, holding out a hand to help her get up, looking down upon the dark-haired girl. “Make your stance slightly wider and bend your knees with spinning on uncertain ground; lower centre of gravity,” he offered old advice to her by way of a decisive but easy going tone, gauging her reaction. But he couldn’t help but fear, was his greeting too casual, too weird? Just random guy springing out of nowhere lecturing you on your swordsmanship…great. Maybe he should’ve probably asked her how she was too? Nah, that would be insulting, she didn’t seem new to this…or maybe…Goddess dammit, why did he do this to himself.

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,background-color: #EBEBEB;] MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND (★) ◣ ◢

[CECILIA S.]

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[cs=2] Her eyes stung, the woman squinted them shut for a few seconds to try and flush the salty water away. Another surge lulled past her, lifting the woman slightly before letting her sink back to the wet sand. She coughed and spat, in a vaguely cat-like manner before shifting her weight to try to stand once more. “Make your stance slightly wider and bend your knees with spinning on uncertain ground; lower centre of gravity,” Huh? Cecilia’s eyes sprung open at the voice and instinctively the startled woman leapt to her feet, not noticing his gesture for help as she vainly tried to keep the waves from pushing her off kilter. Unconsciously, her sword moved to a defensive position in front of her. Damn, she silently cursed at herself for not noticing the man sooner. Unlike crackling leaves and branches, the waves seemed to hide approaching footsteps. She’d have to remember that. ”Who are you, what do you want?” The words were spat out quickly as she looked the man over. Was he a thief? pirate? A straggler from the other day? There were bloodstains on his clothes, and a bright colored sheath was at his side. Pretty conspicuous for a thief, and a straggler, really. The woman doubted the assumed captain would tolerate a crew-member owning such a luxurious item. Hunter perhaps? Though ‘hunter’ hardly gaged threat level. Many hunters had visited her town, some as harmless as a rabbit, others… Her grip tightened on the hilt, as she glared at the man.
[cs=2] shattered sea glass of the sky

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[Deleted]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,background-color: #EBEBEB;] ◤ ◥ TAGS Cecilia WORDS 461 NOTES lol fen's too confident to care bout stranger danger Unruffled yet amused at the disregard of his hand, Fenryl let his arm drop as the woman sprang to her feet, on guard and wary. Her posture screamed uncertainty in his aim in bothering her, defensive and cautious, continuing to watch his every move, every expression with focused blue eyes. But whilst cynical, it still demonstrated some sensibility which the Merman took the moment to admire as he stood relaxed and at ease, leaning one hand on the handle of his own blade. Yet still he didn’t drop his guard, showing no fear at the glint of the blade, instead looking at it with intense curiosity. It was the finest blade he had seen so far that was forged by humans… Perhaps… his thoughts wondered, unconsciously heaving the cooling box filled with pig meat further up his shoulder with his other hand. ”Who are you, what do you want?” Her tone…an edge of fear? his thoughts fired at him. Grey eyes flickered back up to the girl’s face as a surge of stupidity flooded him. Yeah that’s right Fenryl real smart to just ignore the chick who’s scared of your guts to look at the pointy thing she could stab you with. What if she thought him as a weirdo? Or worse as a stalker or pervert or…Goddess forbid, a pirate? Such cold eyes… “Apologies miss,” Fenryl bent his head in a small bow. “Fenryl Cyflym, mercenary, just returned from a hunt and passing by...” Smooth and deep, his words were said neutrally with an edge of decorum, being as polite as the occasion demanded, no more, no less. After all, she was a stranger to him as well. “What drew me was your training; haven’t seen it before,” he continued placidly, bluntly. But his tone then lightened with humour. “Also, to help you stand.” He smiled to himself for a moment, looking away to the side to observe the waves continue to crash against the shoreline, rippling patterns plaguing the sands. Perhaps it was only right for her to be afraid of him even if she did possess a fine blade and some skill…it wasn’t like he was sinless. Briskly then he turned around and walked a few paces away, dropping the box just short of the water’s reach. With a flash of reflected light, he unsheathed his own blade. Twiddling the handle between his fingers, he turned back to face the woman, spinning the blade easily and fluidly from one hand to the other. He would then hold the hollowed magenta blade out in front of him, point aimed to the sand in a way of offering. “May I look at your blade if I let you look at mine?” he asked simply, a smirk creasing his lips mischievously.

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,background-color: #EBEBEB;] MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND (★) ◣ ◢

[CECILIA S.]

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[cs=2] Her grip tightened instinctively as the man’s hand fell around the hilt of his own sword, relaxed and casual. Wait, it had fallen, from where? Had he tried to help her up? In her startled frantic she hadn’t noticed. There was silence, between the two of them at least, around them the waves continued to roll waves crashing in a loud calmness that sounded almost like breathing as the two studied each other. Soaked Cecilia, water dripping from her clothes, seeping into her cuts with an obnoxious sting, narrowed her eyes with distrust, keeping them glued on the man’s hilt in careful watch for any unexpected movements. The man, however kept his gaze on her blade, the tenseness that she felt absent from his demeanor as he…studied the steel sliver she had crafted with her family. Her weight shifted a little as she was uncomfortable with his attention on it and consequently her. ”Apologies miss…” the man finally broke the silence between them with a courteous introduction. So he was a hunter, or he had been hunting at least. Well, Cecilia eyed the dried blood that littered the man’s clothing, that was better than the alternative. ”What drew me,” he continued with a mild yet blunt tone that seemed better fit in a café or, well, anywhere where the threat of being killed by a stranger was pleasantly absent. ”was your training; haven’t seen it before. Also,” his tone lightened a tad, ”to help you stand.” So he was trying to help her, or at least acting like it. Cecilia couldn’t help but feel a sharp wave of embarrassment jolt down her spine, thankful the man had at least diverted his eyes from her for the time being. He seemed sincere, she still wasn't quite willing to trust him, but he seemed not to be an immediate threat, for the moment at least. In a sudden, fluid moment he turned his back towards her, dropping the large box he held on his back into the waters below. Cecilia’s muscle’s jumped to instinct, all too ready to strike should a hostile move be made. Then, in a bright flash of light it was out. Flying through the air in a magenta-stained whir as the man twirled it in his fingers. The way it moved, how was it so light? By the time he had pointed the blade towards the sand, Cecilia’s position had shifted, lowered surprisingly. Her eyes couldn’t leave the strange sword. Though they were about the same height, in stark contrast was it to her own cinder colored blade. As her family was by no means rich and waste was frowned viewed on the same degree as murder her weapon was streamlined to an almost artistic degree; simple, unassuming, even dull to the untrained eye, yet completely void of any excess or hindrance. No, his sword was a completely different animal. The color itself was an oddity, with a lavender-infused tint to the iron that suggested the infusion of an unrecognizable material to its alloy. With it no longer twirling in the man’s hands Cecilia could deduce a factor of its lightness, the ornate shape it held seemed to reduce resistance against the atmosphere around it, how it was formed into such an unusual design, from merely looking she couldn’t quite make out. She had studied and occasionally even tried her hand at crafting more enhanced designs, it was her one guilty pleasure, to be honest. And from the techniques she was aware of, such a design was borderline impossible. Wait, he had said something. While studying the sword the words had flown five feet above her, she took another minute to register what he had said. Trade swords? The thought was tempting, her fingers twitched as she mentally weighed the Fenryl’s weapon in her hands, tested the malleability, the temper, her mouth opened slightly before she realized just what she was doing. Instantly her guard went back up and Cecilia mentally kicked herself. What if it was a trap? The mysterious blade nothing but a magic trick used to break down her defenses? Set to dissolve, disappear, morph, her mind flittered back to the imp the other day and its’ frightening impossibility, even explode. The cuts earned from the attack a few days earlier stung a little more at the thought. ”Thanks,” She said, just as, if not more distrustful than her original tone ”But I’d rather not.”
[cs=2] shattered sea glass of the sky

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