I'm good right now. I may feel it a little more tomorrow, but I'm mainly just in meetings all day, so a little muscle soreness isn't the end of the world.
[She rotates her shoulders idly, doing a quick mental scan to make sure she's telling the truth. But while she'd been winded a bit, she's not wiped out. She takes another drink of water from the flash before handing it back to Herian.]
It's funny, I've spent a fair amount of time experimenting with the shield for like, research purposes. But it always feels like a straight up worst case scenario if I have to use it in the field. Fought a Fade-touched bear one time. Well, [a little softer, though a rueful smile lingers,] Ellis and Tony mainly fought it, I was not dying while they did that, but still.
Combat is rarely so calm and structured as the training grounds or controlled as the laboratory.
( Herian accepts the flask as she considers Cosima’s words. )
Being able to cast and control it in states of physical and mental exhaustion, even in times of emotional distress, cannot be put down to chance. Drills and practice so that you can rely on it as surely as your experiments is necessary.
( Herian collects a basket, full of pieces of wood. )
I collected driftwood and dried it out. It’s brittle and light enough that it will do you no harm if you fail to shield yourself, and decent enough a projectile.
( And not a resource anyone was in need of, so Herian faced no dilemma in utilising it.
Suffice to say she does not intend on incorporating emotional anguish into their training, but apparently flinging projectiles at Cosima was no problem. )
You were not dying as they fought the bear. Were you dying at some other point?
[She's about to say throw 'em at me of the driftwood when Herian asks the question. She can't help an immediate flash of Granitefell, a fuzzy non-memory these days accompanied by the stomach drop of driving over a hill too fast. It's more than she wants to get into in detail, but she also isn't going to lie, so she says,]
I've had some close calls, since you were last here. I wouldn't mind telling you sometime, if you wanted to know, but I'd rather not right now. But I'm okay. [A pause and she exhales.] I'm not even dying of the chronic illness anymore, so arguably in better health than when we first met. It's just, you know. It's a war. [A little gesture at the basket.] Thus the training.
My intention was only to assemble context, not to pry into painful memories.
( She decided, at some point, that apologising when she has no feeling of regret and sincerity to offer is not right. It is not that there a negative response in her to that, no frustration for that absence, only the recognition of the shortfall and awareness of how she might have felt as a concept. )
Should you wish to, only.
( Holding the basket steady against her body with one arm, she gently squeezes Cosima's forearm. An emulation of comfort, of something, all cognitive and mechanical; there is no impulsivity in her, for better or worse. The decision behind the action is underlined as she turns and briskly moves maybe ten meters away.
She makes sure Cosima is ready and okay to go before she flings a couple of pieces at her - well-aimed but slow throws, the arch easy to track. )
No, it's OK. You didn't know. But yeah, let's go. The Venatori certainly aren't going to wait for me to feel perfectly calm and happy every time they attack, right?
[Presumably at least somewhat rhetorical, under the circumstances. She briefly puts a hand over the one Herian rested on her forearm, but lets it go easily when Herian moves to take a more distant position.
With the initial slow tosses, Cosima is able to time her shield to meet the projectiles, maybe four or five feet out from where they'd hit her. It's a good warm-up. She's become more accustomed to the shield with practice, and not only with Herian. It's a reliable, solid thing in this easy exchange, shimmering a little each time a piece of wood makes contact.]
Right, ok, mix it up. Harder throws, or a couple at a time, or whatever you think is good.
( Perhaps an indication that the projectiles would, indeed, be "mixed up," is Herian setting down the basket at her feet. She gathers up a few pieces at once, and waits for a nod of confirmation that Cosima is ready before resuming.
Cosima was entirely correct; the Venatori would not wait for comfort or readiness. The time would come when training would have to intensify, once the shield was an easy reflex. Building proficiency and confidence must come first.
Once she has the nod from Cosima, the driftwood projectiles are faster and harder. Just a couple at first, then three in quick succession and much harder. It continues, until she throws one that seems poorly aimed, before it ricochets off a pillar and towards Cosima's back. )
[Practice has been yielding results, and Cosima's shield holds against the quicker and more powerful projectiles. It takes focus, though, and the one coming at her from behind almost takes her off guard.
She can't swing her shield around fast enough, so instead just drops to the ground, barely making it in time for the wood to go whizzing overhead. Presumably finding oneself on one's stomach on the ground isn't tactically ideal, and Cosima scrambles back to her feet as quickly as she can manage, her determined look suggesting that Herian should continue.]
( Getting up so quickly even after the training drills, the inevitable fatigue and potential soreness, was a marked improvement. Herian gathers more from the basket, glancing about to ensure no one will be at risk from the next drill. )
Keep your present place.
( Herian begins walking a wide circle around Cosima, so the projectiles will come from different angles. Slow building to a jog in the first lap, before moving to a run. Some projectiles are poorly thrown, off target, some dead on centre, so Cosima has to judge which are worth defending against and which would be a waste of her energy, and all of them coming from different sides. All of them are thrown hard.
And then Herian pivots sharply, abandoning the circle when taking new positions, to make predicting and environment that bit more challenging. )
[She bends her knees, keeping her center of gravity low but preserving her ability to move. Herian can see that Cosima errs toward wasting energy on shielding against projectiles that wouldn't have actually hit her more often than the reverse. It's possibly this, or the fatigue more generally, that slows her over time.
Finally a turn isn't fast enough and the projectile slams hard against her hip and she hisses as she stumbles. She doesn't outright fall, and the wood hit her broadside so it will, at worst, leave a nasty bruise. Still, it's not especially pleasant. Even so, Cosima doesn't ask for a pause.]
( She uses the time as Cosima recovers her footing a move behind her, taking up two pieces from past throws. Both are loosed at once, both flying just wide of Cosima, but coming from an awkward angle, at least partially behind her.
The flying wide is intentional, to assist with her accumulative analysis; is her focus struggling alongside her speed? Is she more aware of one side than another? Protective of one side than another? Will fatigue force her to be more discerning, or make that judgement more difficult? )
You cannot sustain shielding against all projectiles.
( Three more pieces, one very close, one flying far wide, before a third is aimed at Cosima properly. Herian makes sure to space them out enough that one shield would not protect against more than one. )
[It's not that Herian's point isn't good; it's that Cosima is still building muscle memory, and doesn't have much to fall back on (at least where combat is concerned). It makes every choice an active one, and decision fatigue as much as physical fatigue is in play.
She goes for the first of the three, the one that would have narrowly missed her, leaving her open to the third.] Goddamnit, [is frustration as much as it is pain, when the projectile connects.]
( A pause is prudent; frustration could carve away productivity if allowed to fester. She remembers how insidiously destructive it had been to herself, many times over. )
This is not indication of any failing.
( To address the frustration, as much as addressing something may, at times, stoke frustration further. )
I mean not to dismiss your feelings, only to remind you that there is courage in taking on such a challenge. Irritation with yourself will mine tracks under your progress and, in times of pressure, collapse the willingness to continue.
( An objective and unfortunate reality. A pause. ) What are you feeling?
I'm okay, [is automatic, but also not untrue. She rubs her side where she was hit. It may bruise, but it's nothing to actually worry about.]
I'm feeling a little frustrated, but it's not. I mainly just know that I'm not playing to my strengths, and I wish I could make up the ground faster. But there's no way to shortcut a skill like this, I know it. [A small sigh.] I'm getting slow, though, maybe we should call it for today.
I... was convinced I replied to this the same time as the other thread, immense gomens
[It almost feels like another projectile: unexpected, for all this one doesn't make Cosima flinch. She idly rubs the spot where she was hit, clearly not in real distress over what will probably become a bruise.]
Was it negligence or a failing that I did not press the value of such skills, nor urge you to take up these practices?
( That flatness applied to analysis of their past is likely strange. Herian has learned that sometimes applying a smile to things said does not have the effect of putting people at each so much as disconcerts them further, and she spares Cosima the affectation. )
I knew the threat of conflict and combat; do you feel that neglected your advancement, or failed you in that regard?
Uh, neither. I was dealing with a chronic disease that affected my lungs for most of the time that we were together. This kind of training, this hard, would have risked a pretty gnarly and potentially dangerous respiratory flare-up. It wasn't negligent to recognize I didn't have the capacity for this then.
I had questioned if my feelings for you had made me over cautious. At times it is challenging to reflect on the actions and nature of my past self without assuming an absence of logic.
( She appears unaware of how dismissive that was of Cosima's condition, or how harsh an assessment of herself she has made. Herian begins collecting the projectiles. )
To be honest, I assume if you'd come back as you are now and I'd still been that ill, logic would have kept you from pushing me. I'm no good to anyone bedridden, Herian, and I don't think you need to feel any particular way about me to recognize that.
[It's even; there's no sense in losing her temper, and if she's honest, the assessment makes her more sad than angry anyway. It's evidence that Herian's low opinion of herself wasn't (only) depression or emotional trauma, but that the people who'd raised and trained her built it into her more analytical outlook too.]
( Pausing in her collection, Herian cants her head slightly, a physical habit retained when so much else is locked away; mulling over new information from those close to her with a quality similar to a confused puppy. )
That is true.
( Not thinking on it enough for the bigger implications to be identified, as she resumes her efforts. In fact, she moves on quickly. )
As usual, I suggest a day or two of rest before we next train. If you can endeavour to walk tomorrow, beyond that which is expected day to day, that would be beneficial, but not so urgent that you must fret yourself.
( It is simply preferable to limiting movement due to soreness. Franklin, having picked up on training being done, has scurried over to steal a projectile and brought it proudly over to Cosima. A gift, Mother!!! )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[She rotates her shoulders idly, doing a quick mental scan to make sure she's telling the truth. But while she'd been winded a bit, she's not wiped out. She takes another drink of water from the flash before handing it back to Herian.]
It's funny, I've spent a fair amount of time experimenting with the shield for like, research purposes. But it always feels like a straight up worst case scenario if I have to use it in the field. Fought a Fade-touched bear one time. Well, [a little softer, though a rueful smile lingers,] Ellis and Tony mainly fought it, I was not dying while they did that, but still.
no subject
( Herian accepts the flask as she considers Cosima’s words. )
Being able to cast and control it in states of physical and mental exhaustion, even in times of emotional distress, cannot be put down to chance. Drills and practice so that you can rely on it as surely as your experiments is necessary.
( Herian collects a basket, full of pieces of wood. )
I collected driftwood and dried it out. It’s brittle and light enough that it will do you no harm if you fail to shield yourself, and decent enough a projectile.
( And not a resource anyone was in need of, so Herian faced no dilemma in utilising it.
Suffice to say she does not intend on incorporating emotional anguish into their training, but apparently flinging projectiles at Cosima was no problem. )
You were not dying as they fought the bear. Were you dying at some other point?
no subject
I've had some close calls, since you were last here. I wouldn't mind telling you sometime, if you wanted to know, but I'd rather not right now. But I'm okay. [A pause and she exhales.] I'm not even dying of the chronic illness anymore, so arguably in better health than when we first met. It's just, you know. It's a war. [A little gesture at the basket.] Thus the training.
no subject
( There is a moment of pause. )
My intention was only to assemble context, not to pry into painful memories.
( She decided, at some point, that apologising when she has no feeling of regret and sincerity to offer is not right. It is not that there a negative response in her to that, no frustration for that absence, only the recognition of the shortfall and awareness of how she might have felt as a concept. )
Should you wish to, only.
( Holding the basket steady against her body with one arm, she gently squeezes Cosima's forearm. An emulation of comfort, of something, all cognitive and mechanical; there is no impulsivity in her, for better or worse. The decision behind the action is underlined as she turns and briskly moves maybe ten meters away.
She makes sure Cosima is ready and okay to go before she flings a couple of pieces at her - well-aimed but slow throws, the arch easy to track. )
no subject
[Presumably at least somewhat rhetorical, under the circumstances. She briefly puts a hand over the one Herian rested on her forearm, but lets it go easily when Herian moves to take a more distant position.
With the initial slow tosses, Cosima is able to time her shield to meet the projectiles, maybe four or five feet out from where they'd hit her. It's a good warm-up. She's become more accustomed to the shield with practice, and not only with Herian. It's a reliable, solid thing in this easy exchange, shimmering a little each time a piece of wood makes contact.]
Right, ok, mix it up. Harder throws, or a couple at a time, or whatever you think is good.
no subject
Cosima was entirely correct; the Venatori would not wait for comfort or readiness. The time would come when training would have to intensify, once the shield was an easy reflex. Building proficiency and confidence must come first.
Once she has the nod from Cosima, the driftwood projectiles are faster and harder. Just a couple at first, then three in quick succession and much harder. It continues, until she throws one that seems poorly aimed, before it ricochets off a pillar and towards Cosima's back. )
no subject
She can't swing her shield around fast enough, so instead just drops to the ground, barely making it in time for the wood to go whizzing overhead. Presumably finding oneself on one's stomach on the ground isn't tactically ideal, and Cosima scrambles back to her feet as quickly as she can manage, her determined look suggesting that Herian should continue.]
no subject
( Getting up so quickly even after the training drills, the inevitable fatigue and potential soreness, was a marked improvement. Herian gathers more from the basket, glancing about to ensure no one will be at risk from the next drill. )
Keep your present place.
( Herian begins walking a wide circle around Cosima, so the projectiles will come from different angles. Slow building to a jog in the first lap, before moving to a run. Some projectiles are poorly thrown, off target, some dead on centre, so Cosima has to judge which are worth defending against and which would be a waste of her energy, and all of them coming from different sides. All of them are thrown hard.
And then Herian pivots sharply, abandoning the circle when taking new positions, to make predicting and environment that bit more challenging. )
no subject
Finally a turn isn't fast enough and the projectile slams hard against her hip and she hisses as she stumbles. She doesn't outright fall, and the wood hit her broadside so it will, at worst, leave a nasty bruise. Still, it's not especially pleasant. Even so, Cosima doesn't ask for a pause.]
no subject
( She uses the time as Cosima recovers her footing a move behind her, taking up two pieces from past throws. Both are loosed at once, both flying just wide of Cosima, but coming from an awkward angle, at least partially behind her.
The flying wide is intentional, to assist with her accumulative analysis; is her focus struggling alongside her speed? Is she more aware of one side than another? Protective of one side than another? Will fatigue force her to be more discerning, or make that judgement more difficult? )
You cannot sustain shielding against all projectiles.
( Three more pieces, one very close, one flying far wide, before a third is aimed at Cosima properly. Herian makes sure to space them out enough that one shield would not protect against more than one. )
no subject
She goes for the first of the three, the one that would have narrowly missed her, leaving her open to the third.] Goddamnit, [is frustration as much as it is pain, when the projectile connects.]
no subject
This is not indication of any failing.
( To address the frustration, as much as addressing something may, at times, stoke frustration further. )
I mean not to dismiss your feelings, only to remind you that there is courage in taking on such a challenge. Irritation with yourself will mine tracks under your progress and, in times of pressure, collapse the willingness to continue.
( An objective and unfortunate reality. A pause. ) What are you feeling?
no subject
I'm feeling a little frustrated, but it's not. I mainly just know that I'm not playing to my strengths, and I wish I could make up the ground faster. But there's no way to shortcut a skill like this, I know it. [A small sigh.] I'm getting slow, though, maybe we should call it for today.
I... was convinced I replied to this the same time as the other thread, immense gomens
( Herian lingers, not immediately going to collect her projectiles. )
I have a question that pertains to when we were close. Is such a question permissible, at this time?
no subject
Yeah, sure. Ask away.
no subject
( That flatness applied to analysis of their past is likely strange. Herian has learned that sometimes applying a smile to things said does not have the effect of putting people at each so much as disconcerts them further, and she spares Cosima the affectation. )
I knew the threat of conflict and combat; do you feel that neglected your advancement, or failed you in that regard?
no subject
Uh, neither. I was dealing with a chronic disease that affected my lungs for most of the time that we were together. This kind of training, this hard, would have risked a pretty gnarly and potentially dangerous respiratory flare-up. It wasn't negligent to recognize I didn't have the capacity for this then.
no subject
I had questioned if my feelings for you had made me over cautious. At times it is challenging to reflect on the actions and nature of my past self without assuming an absence of logic.
( She appears unaware of how dismissive that was of Cosima's condition, or how harsh an assessment of herself she has made. Herian begins collecting the projectiles. )
no subject
[It's even; there's no sense in losing her temper, and if she's honest, the assessment makes her more sad than angry anyway. It's evidence that Herian's low opinion of herself wasn't (only) depression or emotional trauma, but that the people who'd raised and trained her built it into her more analytical outlook too.]
no subject
That is true.
( Not thinking on it enough for the bigger implications to be identified, as she resumes her efforts. In fact, she moves on quickly. )
As usual, I suggest a day or two of rest before we next train. If you can endeavour to walk tomorrow, beyond that which is expected day to day, that would be beneficial, but not so urgent that you must fret yourself.
( It is simply preferable to limiting movement due to soreness. Franklin, having picked up on training being done, has scurried over to steal a projectile and brought it proudly over to Cosima. A gift, Mother!!! )