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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 10, 2009 12:29:51 GMT
He scowled at Grace and picked up the belt, holding it in front of her.
"Aye, in yer chemise. Elsewise you'll never be used to it being there. You will be sleeping with that on fer many moons. Ye will also be wearing it at day. At night ye do not need to have the dagger in the scabbard, but it must be within reach. This will make a good habit." When Grace had the belt, Richard went to his packs and looked around for his hunter's dagger. It had a longer blade than the one he had passed to Grace and was used more for cutting animal than people. He buckled the belt on and drew the dagger.
With it drawn, Richard was careful to allow Grace to see how he held it. His fingers were wrapped around the 'bottom' of the hilt and his thumb lay along the opposite side. The blade was pointed away from him, edge up. After a moment he quickly flipped the dagger without losing contact with the hilt. Now the blade was pointed towards him. Richard reversed again so the blade was pointed away.
"There are different grips, this is the easiest and it does the job. The blade faced this way has range and thus I do not have to go too close. Watch," Richard stepped towards Grace, feinting a sharp stab towards her stomach. "Now I can reverse and come down. Reversed, the blade has more power. Reversing may be helpful to compensate for strength." His arm moved up, dagger reversing and feinted towards her shoulder and neck.
"Before we start attackin' each other with daggers, I want ye to get used to the grip. Flip the blade away from ye and then towards. Get used to the movement. That done, we're going to practice putting it away without looking."
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Post by Grace de Beaumont on Dec 10, 2009 14:58:57 GMT
Feeling in turns like giggling and extreme mortification at looking so silly, Grace settled the belt over her shift, tugging to make it settle better over her hips. She watched intently as Richard maneuvered his own knife skillfully about in the air, she tried to listen to all he was saying. She wanted to plead with him to slow down but felt it would make her look childish.
"Alright," Grace said in a determined voice. "Blade faced away has range, reversed has more power." Her pupils widened in alarm when Richard lunged at her, and she hopped backward instinctively, bumping into the cot. This was followed by a nervous giggle. Richard had always ever been the perfect gentleman around her; she'd never seen him up close as the swordsman. It was both disturbing and exciting.
When Grace tried the knife-flipping thing, the blade dropped to the floor with a clatter. "Oh dear," she fretted as she scooped it back up again. Another try saw the blade dropping again, narrowly missing her bare foot. It took many tries before the young woman was able to reverse the dagger without dropping it, and by the end, her wrist ached. But Grace had managed to flip the dagger back and forth several times to Richard's grunting satisfaction.
"How much do daggers cost?" Grace stifled a yawn and flipped sweaty hair back from her face. It was well past midnight. "I should have one of my own, don't you think?" She batted her eyelashes and gave Richard a sly -- albeit sleepy -- grin.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 11, 2009 3:41:37 GMT
"Aye -- you should have one. An' you'll be earning it with yer own coin. I'm not buying one for ye." Noting her sleepiness, Richard changed his plans for the night -- he had wanted to teach her a few defensive blocks. Instead he slid his dagger home.
"Well done, lass. Now ye're to practice this every day until it feels 'natural.' Once ye can put that dagger in its scabbard without looking ye can sleep. Don't worry about speed."
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Post by Grace de Beaumont on Dec 11, 2009 4:06:01 GMT
Grace felt like childishly sticking her tongue out at Richard, something she used to do to Sister Ermelinda when she drilled Grace on her lessons as a child. Pursing her lips in concentration, Grace slid the dagger into the leather sheath, nearly sending the whole works plunging to her ankles.
"You need to put a new hole in this belt," she muttered, resettling the leather around her waist. Then she brightened a little. "Maybe I can wear some pants sometime?" Her eyes lit at the decadent suggestion.
Ridiculously, the only way Grace could get the belt to stay on enough to allow her to slide the dagger firmly home was to stand with her legs shoulder-width apart. I feel like a cranky bull ready to charge. But a few more tries and she was able to take out and return the blade to its sheath several times.
Another yawn. "How's that, master-at-arms?"
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 11, 2009 4:21:03 GMT
"Much better. An' ye can wear whatever ye like, so long as its decent." The comment made him remember a conversation he had had with Clarine. After they had lain together, Clarine had paraded about in his trousers while he blinked sleepily at the dust motes. Finally she had proclaimed that women had been lied to, dresses were not for good women. Dresses made it so much easier for men to get what they wanted. As Richard himself had just demonstrated. He had to smother a grin.
"An' don't try my pants on. T'would be wrong. Now get to bed, annoying child." Now that he had a reason to grin, Richard did so and pointed at the bed. "You can learn all about blocks tomorrow."
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Post by Grace de Beaumont on Dec 11, 2009 4:40:43 GMT
Grace scrambled into bed before Richard could change his mind and tell her to do something else. She had to squirm a bit to get the belt to lay comfortably, and was sorely tempted to wait until Richard blew the candle out and take the vexing thing off, but once she settled, Grace felt her eyes growing heavy.
"Richard?" she mumbled sleepily. "Try not to beat up Dante when you meet him. Remember, he did save my life for no reason. And.... thank you. For everything."
Eyes closing, Grace's last sight was Richard's large form dominating the room, casting shadows across the walls and bringing her enormous comfort. A moment later, Grace was asleep.
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Post by Richard Cabal on Dec 11, 2009 4:50:51 GMT
Trust me, little one. Richard thought as Grace drifted off to sleep. Impulsively he stepped to her side and smoothed the covers over her shoulders before kissing her forehead.
"Blessings upon you," he murmured and then blew out the candle. In the sudden darkness he went back to his corner of the room but instead of sleeping, he leaned against the wall and stared into the darkness. Listening to Grace breathe, he wished that Clarine was with him. Together they had been able to do anything. Except survive a plague.
I miss you, my darling. Richard closed his eyes before they grew wet.
Done
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