EDANITH > Tynova

Do we haaave to? [Blue!]

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Rhi-Rhi:
Yazuri entered the training field with her head down and feet dragging.

She so did not want to be here doing this old song and dance again. When would Mikko just accept that she was a sucky mage? True, her mom was talented, but Yazuri hadn't inherited any of that--she'd gotten the ability, sure, but not the skill or drive and all she did was screw up and hurt people.

Like Mikko.

Who'd suffered the brunt of her epic mess-ups.

The training field was large and open with high walls and no ceiling--and also nothing that could be burned, exploded, or otherwise destroyed. Which made sense, considering it was used by mages to practice their skills, or lack of, in Yazuri's case.

Heaving a loud sigh (which was wasted, since she currently had no audience), Yazuri trudged over to the nearest wall, leaned against it, and slid down until she was sitting on the hard ground with her knees pressed to her chest. Her long black hair was out of its usual style of half-down-half-topknot and instead piled high on her head in a tight bun, and instead of her usual soft, flowing robes she wore a form-fitting track-suit. All the better to keep from catching on fire!

Hopefully.

This is gonna suck so hard.

Blue:
“Quit your sighing and get your skinny meat-seat off the ground.”
A gruff and very familiar voice carried easily within the walled-off space, along with the sound of heavy footsteps and…water sloshing against metal. Mikko made his grand entrance with both hands carrying a metal pail full of water - one for him, and one for the mageling he was about to put to work. After all, they’d both caught on fire enough times to warrant this particular precaution.
Dropping them into a corner with a harsh clatter, Mikko stood up and ran his calloused hand through his dark hair, the gray at his temples all the more obvious in the morning sunlight. All this stress was probably aging him prematurely, he was really showing his years even though the average Edani lifespan was far beyond his 45 years. He was dressed in his usual attire - form fitting pants tucked into high black boots, with a shirt sporting a wide square neckline and short sleeves hugging his wide shoulders and well maintained muscles. It was all in navy blue, as a matter of course.

Turning on his young student, Mikko strode right up to her and easily towered above her with his large frame blocking the light. His arms were crossed and his face sported his usual frown, and all together he made the perfect picture of intimidation. However, as Yazuri would have found out a couple years back when they first began working together, Mikko was a surprisingly good guy. Rough around the edges, sure, but he genuinely wanted to help others and even if his methods were rather unrefined, he tended to get results in whatever his endeavor.
“Your attitude sucks Yaz.” He grunted by way of greeting (another bad habit).
“Roll up your sleeves so you don’t catch your fool self on fire. We’re gonna start with the basic conjuring or whatever you wanna call it. I just wanna see some fire out of you. And before you start whining that you can’t, I have the scars to prove that you can.”

Rhi-Rhi:
Yazuri's shoulders jerked when she heard that familiar voice and, slowly, she lifted her head to look up at the shadow looming over her.

Heeere we go again.

Back when she'd first met him, she had been terrified of the man. He was big, muscular, and in a state of perpetual crankiness, and she had answered all his questions and demands with a squeak and a "yes sir!" or a "no sir!" and the occasional "please don't hurt me, sir." As time passed by, it became clear that her original perception of him was...off. He was gruff and rough and no nonsense, sure, but he wasn't actually that scary. Actually, he was pretty nice. In his own way. And he'd never hurt her.

On the contrary, she'd hurt him.

Another sigh escaped her before she could help it, though it was more of a frustrated huff. Slowly, reluctantly, she pushed up off the ground and stood, though she still kept her back to the wall.

"I know I can, I just also know I'm no good at it," Yazuri mumbled under her breath before she decided to try another tactic. She looked up at him, yellow eyes wide and pleading, and gave him her best imploring smile. Ignoring the sleeve request for now, she clasped her hands in front of her.

"C'mon, Mikko, do I have to? We both know how this is gonna end: with fire. And yelling. And probably a lot of cursing which I really shouldn't be hearing. We could do something else! Like...um...like you could do that thing! You know, where you shoot stuff out of the air? That's so cool!"

Blue:
“Like I said, your attitude sucks.” He replied, just as gruff as before. Moon’s ass! This girl was always such a pain to work with. It was worse than trying to get a skittish horse to go over a bridge - at least horses didn’t have the ability to talk back. This process was like pulling teeth, and it generally ended about as well. But he was nothing of not persistent, and he’d be razor whipped before he admitted defeat in this case. She was still young, and she had a lot left to learn - unfortunately she seemed to be having trouble with that whole ‘learn’ part.

“Never in forty-five years have puppy dog eyes ever worked on me, and I’m not about to start now. Whiney students don’t get to see gun tricks.”
He was as immovable as the wall he tended to look like. Without warning, he reached over and bonked her sharply on her bun.
“You’re about to hear enough cursing to make your ears burn if you don’t hurry up and roll up those sleeves.”
As he spoke, he reached up to his neck, where a single necklace was slung. It had the odd ‘key’ that fit into the temple port on all mages. This was the part he’d never gotten used to - sticking this thing into someone else’s brain. Placing a large hand on top of her head, which was basically a clear sign of what he was about to do, he stuck the key into the port quickly but with as much painstaking care and gentleness as he possibly could (he couldn’t even imagine what this felt like, but the less uncomfortable he could make it, the better). One turn later and access to Yazuri’s magic was granted to them both, though Mikko had never been particularly good at figuring out what to do with the weird sensation of feeling someone else’s energy. He’d much rather let the mages do their thing, while he did his.

“Now quit your bitching and let’s get started. Anybody catches on fire, we’ve got water. Scars are nothing little lady, I’ve got more than you could count. As far as I care, they’re just a roadmap to the interesting bits of my life. Your scars will one day be a reminder of you being too pig headed to just stop worrying and do what you do - you think too damn much.”

Rhi-Rhi:
Yazuri's shoulders slumped and her head dropped as she visibly wilted with disappointment and defeat. "Awww, but--ow! Hey! Don't bonk me!"

Reaching up, she rubbed at her bun and scowled up at Mikko. It wasn't like it actually hurt, but she liked to play up the wounded puppy act. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest and make up more excuses, but then Mikko placed a hand on her head and she knew what was coming.

It was...a strange sensation, to be sure. It didn't hurt, and she'd had the ports for as far back as she could remember, but it was a little uncomfortable--if only because she wasn't as used to it as other mages who used their power more frequently. The key turned, and with it came that odd rush of warmth and power and energy, like a dam unblocked, and it sent a small shiver through her. It felt...right, like a missing piece finally returned to make her whole, but it also felt foreign.

And a little scary, because she knew what it could do.

She rubbed at her arms as soon as it was done, drawing her attention away from the strange rush and back to Mikko.

"Better to think too much than too little, right?" Yazuri said with a wry grin and slowly, reluctantly, started to push up her sleeves. "I need to worry, anyway. Scars are gross. I mean, yours are fine! You're a guy! But they're not...pretty." She frowned down at her hands, which still bore patches of pink, shiny skin. "They always look cool on guys."

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