1stmacleod | ((For Jelani))

"Practice makes better, anyway." He smirks a little, and draws back a step. "You shouldn't have grabbed me. If you block outward, that's enough to start the move. Grabbing your opponent will only compromise your own balance."

"Huh." Her expression grows a bit distant as she's drawing up the move in her head, imagining the motions. "I'll keep that in mind fer later."

"Do you want to go another round, or learn more kata first?" He's looking a little winded, a little tired, but Connor is always willing to push himself harder than he pushes a student.

If this had been two years ago, this is where Jelani would have made some snide comments about Connor being an old man without any stamina whatsoever. But while she could certainly go another round, and while Connor hardly looks like he's about to fall over, she decides on a different approach.

"I don't mind gettin' some more tools ta work with." So she comes to stand by his side, awaiting instructions.

He'd just roll his eyes if she did, but it's got nothing to do with age and everything to do with fifteen years worth of ruining his health. Connor knows he's not where he used to be, physically.

Nodding, he slides back into the first kata, standing where she can mirror him again. Once through, he gives her a handful of newer moves, then he repeats the old ones mixed with the new, taking her through a longer chain of poses now. Give him a little while of this, and he'll be ready for another fight.

Again she tries to empty her head of distracting thoughts, and lets her body do the work. She follows the motions, some with ease and some not, some that needs correcting. Over and over, faster and faster, committing it to muscle memory.

A stray thought: it's like dancing. And she loves to dance. She smiles.

Connor's never been big on dancing, although he knows how. He's graceful though, flowing through the moves with practiced ease, fluid and almost relaxed. There's a definite precision to it, not an ounce of energy wasted. He corrects quietly when she needs it, and holds his tongue when he sees her correct herself. Her pace is matched, but he breathing stays controlled and easy. He seems meditative and much calmer than he was when she found him earlier.

Another stray thought that mucks up her motions a bit - definitely overextended there, but she corrects it with a scowl on her face. This seems to be doing her teacher some good. At least at the moment he doesn't about look ready to crawl under a rock and die.

She knows she'd better start getting all this in and getting it to work even with distractions. So, why not an idle conversation? "So why a katana?" she asks, sliding from one pose to the next.

Connor's spent the last five years doing pretty much that, so this is a vast improvement. He looks meditative, calm and focused.

Conversation is allowed, though. "It belonged to my first teacher." That sword is older than Connor is. He keeps up the pattern of kata as he talks, then switches up the order of the poses, just to throw her off. "I started with a claymore, but... those are no good for close combat, or for anybody who isn't as strong as an ox." He smirks faintly. Ramirez had a hard time convincing him that his family sword wasn't a superior weapon, especially for a skinny nineteen-year-old.

Connor does succeed in throwing Jelani off when he changes the order of poses. She frowns, and is for the moment silent and she focuses on following along. When she finally feels she doesn't have to focus all of her attention on him, she starts talking again.

"Would it be good fer someone who is strong as an ox, though?"

He doesn't say anything while she catches up, letting her correct herself and redivide her attention. He will keep mixing up the order, though. There's no point in not giving her a challenge.

"Depends on the type of fighting. A claymore was really made to unseat somebody from horseback, or use from horseback. It's too long a blade to be practical for a one-on-one fight, on foot. There are some good broadswords, now, though. Some people like a weighted blade. It can add power to the swing. But the heavier a sword is, the longer the recovery time between each move. Split seconds count."

She messes up here and there, and is slow to reply. But she's doing pretty good so far.

"Hmm, might be fun ta learn," she says. "Fighting from horseback. But then I guess I'd hafta learn how ta ride a horse, too."

"I've done more of my fighting on foot, but it used to be that anyone who could afford a horse, rode." That's not to say everyone could afford one, but he's done plenty of riding in his life.
"I miss having horses..."

The movements flows from one to the other, from pose to pose with Jelani watching Connor from the corner of her eye.
"Any reason why ya shouldn't get horses again? Maybe yer next occupation oughta be as a rancher?"

"...Just that I can't settle anywhere too long. People will notice I'm not aging, after a while. I have to keep moving..." He looks grim over that, but it doesn't break his concentration. To be fair, though, there's more muscle-memory in all this for him than there is for her.

Quite a few more years of it, yes. However, this is where Jelani breaks off the kata. She sweeps both hand and shinai out, gesturing at their surroundings. "Look where ya are! Ya think anyone's gonna raise an eyebrow at th' fact that ya don't age here?"

He straightens slowly, drawing up out of the last pose. "I can't... really live here..." Except there's a certain appeal to that. He's loathe to abandon Duncan, in his own world, completely, though.

"Why not?" She puts the top of the shinai to the ground, and rests her hands over the hilt, looking at him with her head tilted a bit to the side. "If ya worry 'bout missin' yer old world, ain't nothin' saying ya can't go visit. Every damn day if ya want. I talked ta this guy a couple o' weeks ago, and he lives here but he's still got his old job back where he came from."

"Not... my world, but my kinsman. My old student." He frowns mildly, and looks the katana over as if for damage, but he keeps the sword in too good condition. Mostly he's looking for a distraction. "He... there's bad blood between us now, but I want to keep an eye out for him, still. I abandoned him once, for ten years, even if I didn't mean to. I won't abandon him again." Keeping an ear out for Duncan's safety is a trickier matter than a regular job.

"Don't mean ya hafta stop doin' that, if ya start buildin' somethin' fer yerself. Look, I don't mean ta say I know what's happened to ya, an' I meant it when I said I won't pry. But I got eyes, an' I got me a fairly good brain up here." She taps a finger against he temple. "Ya ain't got much, do ya? If yer runnin' from something, or hidin' from something, I can't say. But what I can say is, that whatever it was ya did, punishin' yerself for it ain't gonna make it better."

"I'm not running, or hiding..." Connor looks a little wary, and rubs the back of his neck. "A man I made into my enemy... killed my family. One by one. Everyone but him, and he would have been next." His voice has gone hoarse, and he shifts restlessly on his feet, avoiding her gaze. He looks utterly miserable, and deeply guilty.

So she was right the last time they met. It was his family he'd lost.

She sighs, and lowers her eyes to the ground momentarily. "I can't pretend ta know what that feels like. I ain't ever lost someone like that." She looks up again, and there's a certain amount of steel in those red eyes of hers. "But, Connor, you

are not

responsible fer other people's actions. An' since yer kinsman is still around, I take it that this enemy's been dealt with?" She softens up a bit. "An' - to fall to a cliche here, tho' I think it's a good one - wouldn't yer family want ya to be happy? Grief's a very real thing, an' should be taken seriously. But..."

"I might not be responsible for what he did, but I am responsible for making him into an enemy. I killed him. Twice." Connor rubs his face, looking at the ground. "They still died because of their association with me. Immortals lead dangerous lives. I put them at risk. And I... know they wouldn't want me to be unhappy, but it doesn't matter what they would want. I can't be happy. I don't know how anymore. I've got nothing left. I killed him permanently, yes, but before I did, I broke the bond of trust of my friendship with my kinsman. I made him hate me..." Well, he's pretty sure he did, anyway. Certain parties have been urging him to go find out if that's really true.

"Listen..." She sits down on the ground, legs crossed and with the shinai across her lap.

"You ain't responsible fer their deaths. You didn't pull th' trigger, so ta speak. 'S like this, yer teachin' me how ta fight with a sword. Now if I were ta go an' strike someone down using what ya teach me, would ya then be responsible fer it? Yer givin' me the tools ta do it, right? Well, if we ignore the tools I already got. Or if I went an' got myself killed because of somethin' someone did ta me, would that person then be ta blame? No. Ev'ryone makes their own choices." So sayeth logic, according to Jelani, and she's not even done yet.

"An' the thing 'bout bonds? An' trust? That can be rebuilt. Ya say he hates ya. That means ya matter. Because for people who don't matter, there's no need ta feel much 'bout anythin'. An' hate fer someone who used ta be close? That can be turned. Surprisingly easily, I've come ta notice."

She has even more to say, thought, ideas and opinions whirling around in her head. But let's see if anything of this sparks something first.

He sinks down, looking a little tired again. "If you used my teachings to hurt people who didn't deserve it, yes, I'd feel partly responsible. That's why I talked with you to find out what kind of person you are, first." Connor has some strong ideas about his responsibilities in the world.

The katana lays across his lap, and his fingers run over the carved tsuka. "He was my first student. My best friend. My true brother... I tried to force him to kill me." The real problem is he can't forgive himself.

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