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Tally was already sweating, before she had even thought about throwing a punch, the cloying heat seeping through her skin and sticking, bone deep. As she lined up for hand to hand training, an attentive eye on her instructor, a shiver of recognition raced up her spine. It intensified the humid heat and a rivulet of moisture beaded over her temple and down her neck, soaking into the collar of standard issue green tee. She absentmindedly reached up to scratch at the gentle tickle left in its wake as the gentle weave of magic caressed at her vision, infusing the room with threads of gentle light, of all colours. She could clearly see the forest green of her own Work, the storm gray of Abigail's, the intertwined opaque silver and glittering yellow of Raelle's, the muted orange of her professor, and a deep royal blue that edged in at the door moments before it opened.
General Alder carried herself with the dignity, poise, and burden of her three centuries, all of which was reflected in the curl and snap of power as it entwined with the very walls and ground of Fort Salem. Tally could almost feel the gentle graze of cobalt in her chest as the imposing woman strode confidently into the room. Her eyes, only a few shades lighter than the tendrils that surrounded her, darted around astutely, taking in every detail with the precision of a warrior worn from the many battles fought, before landing on Sergeant Hill.
"General, welcome. How may we help you this morning?" Her voice was clear and precise, drenched in familiarity and admiration. The seven older women, constantly in support of their General, filed around the room and pressed into their surroundings, barely noticeable.
“Sorry for the interruption, Sergeant. I was hoping to observe training this morning, if that wouldn’t provide too much of a distraction.” There was not a question in Alder’s tone, just the careful lilt of someone used to giving orders and having them followed. Hill simpered her gratitude and waved emphatically for the General to come further into the room, only taking her eyes from the older witch when she seemed content with her position.
“Collar, Shellbark. Ready up.” Realle shot a glance at Tally, a smile laced with a mild but earned arrogance tugged at her lips as she hopped up, an exuberant spring to her step. To his credit, Gregorio lacked the hubris he might have adopted, sparring against the smaller young woman. He had been paired with Rae before and knew she was a whiley opponent, and very capable of rendering him on his back. They stepped forward, arms bared in the usual “L” style, legs staggered in a wide but stable stance, and began circling, each looking for a weakness in the other’s defense. Collar made the first move, a quick feint to the left before side-stepping to the right, catching her opponent off guard. He dodged, predictably, but found the edge of the blond’s hand waiting to slice a chop across his throat.
Gregorio dropped to one knee, his fingers working over the tender skin of his neck as Raelle danced away, a wry grin quickly wiping away to a stoic determination. He stood again, falling back into the practiced pose with a careful eye on the young woman’s movements. This time he was not caught unawares and pressed into the first opening he saw. They traded counter after counter and eventually, Collar slid a leg between Shellbark’s, hooking his ankle, planting a palm against his chest, and leveraging him onto his back with a grunt. Tally held back a quiet snicker as Raelle hauled the young man to his feet and fell back in line next to the redhead. One by one, the pairs squared off against each other, trading blows until finally it was only Craven left, unpartnered and solo at the front of the class. Sergeant Hill cleared her throat, ready to call on a Cadet that had already fought when the sure crackle of magic had Tally turning towards the General.
“I’ll take this one, if I may, Sergeant?” The quiet murmur of her fellow soldiers was lost on Tally, her world narrowing to cerulean mirth and a suppressed smirk. It hadn’t been so long ago she could hear the steady stream of thoughts shifting behind the inscrutable blues of Sarah Alder, akin to the comforting stroke of fingers at the base of her skull and delicate press of lips to her forehead. Truth be told, she missed it. Now, the woman stood across from her felt almost like a stranger, dealing in a series of micro-expressions that left her feeling out of her depth. She followed the older witch’s lead and parried her arms in the half-box, never letting her gaze slip from the turbulent, storm-battered seas swirling in the crystal clear eyes.
As the brunette steadied her breath, Tally’s Knowing seeped across her vision, the brush of static over her skin, the warm, deep blue of the General’s Work curling in the space between them. It surprised the redhead to see the press of the threads to her right, a subtle shift forward that had her taking a quick step backwards, barely missing a sharp testing jab from the older woman’s left hand. She noted the marginally upticked eyebrow and slight purse of lips as the only signs of concern from Alder and realised the magic was her tell. A soft laugh hissed through the young woman’s lips as she set herself again, watching the space around the veteran without ever moving her gaze from unamused sapphire.
Jab after jab, feint after feint, attack after attack, the General had lost some of the cool of her composure as each sequence of maneuvers failed to land. The perfect veneer of detachment had faded to the sprinkle of beaded sweat at her brow, a few loosened waves escaping from her braid, and the deep green jacket of her uniform open to reveal the tight black tee beneath. Not once had Tally mounted an offense, instead resorting to ducking and weaving, and one time scrambling, out of the way, barely having time to recoup her efforts before the next series of punches were aimed at her.
Sarah Alder could say that she had seen too much combat, a sullied history of violence and bloodshed that had been necessary for over three hundred years, but there were few opponents that had bested her one on one. A steady resolve settled in her chest and she resumed her stance, her suspicion of the Cadet growing with each attack parried. Finally, it all fell into place; the subtle glances past her, around her, almost through her. Tally was using her ability to preempt the strikes. The General allowed a smirk, one meant only for the redhead, one that she knew would stall out her game plan, even if just for a moment. It worked. The calm façade cracked just a little and in that moment, Sarah decided to employ the very same kind of tactics. A low hum vibrated deep in her throat and a kick of wind stumbled the woman back, making room for the quick one-two combination that saw a red welt appear in seconds on the pale cheek of Craven.
A steely resolve blanketed the Cadet as she soothed the sting with her palm for a moment before nodding her appreciation of the move. Without the use of her Sight, Tally decided to try a different method, one she hadn’t yet used, and went on the offensive. She swung a fist high, ducking the returned jab and brought her hand straight up, attempting an upper-cut that should have caught the General firmly on the chin. However, Alder was not so easily exposed, darting to the right and spinning away. They continued this sequence, this dance, for a few more minutes, trading glancing blows and parries, whirling in tandem as if it was all choreographed, before Alder sidestepped an attempted punch to her face. She gripped Tally’s wrist and twisted forward, twirling the young woman around and looping her arms against her chest, an intricate braid of limbs that had the witches face to face, mere inches apart.
The close proximity, the intermingling of panted breaths, the glistening sheen of sweat over skin, it was all too much for Tally, but at the same time nowhere near enough. A quiet cough drew her back to the room, just as Sarah stepped away, a harsh flexing along her jaw giving away the effects of the fight.
“What a wonderful demonstration, General. Thank you and may the Goddess bless you. Craven, you did a marvelous job. Was there anything else you wished to see, Ma’am?” Alder adopted her usual stance, legs together, hands locked behind her back, shoulder straight, head high, and shook a firm negative.
“No, thank you, Sergeant. I believe I’m satisfied with today’s performances.” She kept her gaze forward but didn’t miss the flush of pink dusting over Craven’s cheeks at her wording. It was an informative session indeed, though ‘satisfied’ may have missed the mark somewhat. She knew she would find what little satisfaction she could later, alone in her bed, but for now, this would suffice.