[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!!! )
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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!!! )