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xianxiadressing2023-06-15 04:28 pm
cursedsaber) wrote in xianxiadressing2023-06-15 04:28 pm
[A Warriors Spirit Is Not Constrained By Age]
[It was a bright and sunny early-summer morning—the all too well-preserved training grounds nearly empty considering what they were. Birds could be heard chirping, which, combined with the chill of the air, confirmed how early in the day it still was.
But one soul could be found out in the courtyard by himself. A young yet serious-looking boy, no more than twelve, with a saber almost comedically large compared to himself, held steadily in one arm. He quickly stepped forward, thrusting it into the air. His arm shook slightly to keep it steady, but he grasped his sword firmly before drawing it back and clasping it with both hands.
It seemed a young cultivator-to-be was deeply entrenched in his training. He swiped downwards before pulling the saber back again, only to turn and offer a slow spinning strike. As he moved, he slowly built his confidence, as if the steps he had memorized with many repetitions were suddenly returning to him. The sun glinted down upon him, practically creating a halo of light to contrast the traditional dark robes he wore.
Nie sect robes. Something quite befitting of the weapon in the child's hands.
Only then had he stopped mid-strike, pausing only to turn his head toward the one viewing him slowly. A small, childishly gleeful smile formed as he stood to attention before bowing formally.]
My apologies. I did not think there would be others here just yet.
But one soul could be found out in the courtyard by himself. A young yet serious-looking boy, no more than twelve, with a saber almost comedically large compared to himself, held steadily in one arm. He quickly stepped forward, thrusting it into the air. His arm shook slightly to keep it steady, but he grasped his sword firmly before drawing it back and clasping it with both hands.
It seemed a young cultivator-to-be was deeply entrenched in his training. He swiped downwards before pulling the saber back again, only to turn and offer a slow spinning strike. As he moved, he slowly built his confidence, as if the steps he had memorized with many repetitions were suddenly returning to him. The sun glinted down upon him, practically creating a halo of light to contrast the traditional dark robes he wore.
Nie sect robes. Something quite befitting of the weapon in the child's hands.
Only then had he stopped mid-strike, pausing only to turn his head toward the one viewing him slowly. A small, childishly gleeful smile formed as he stood to attention before bowing formally.]
My apologies. I did not think there would be others here just yet.