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Also open to Nakhtmin !

Warrior skill thread.

Out in the expansive courtyard, Aiesha had sought out Khusobek and demanded his attention; as he was busy with the medjay of Satriya, a woman named Taliba, Aiesha was left to her own devices before too long.

It had been a day or so since her last conversation with her father, and it was known by now she had been placed in her own quarters far from him, upon her own request. Whatever commentary spread among the fellahin was pointedly ignored by the girl, who was focused on her training.

Aiesha was pacing and practicing various drills, to get her heart-rate up. Her emotions were under better control now. It helped to have something physical with which to distract herself, and the more she worked the less time she had to consider the past couple of days, or her poor behavior in regards to her family.

It was noon, but heat was weak in the all-too-frequent absence of Ra above. Nakhtmin should be taking rest, and found he was not tired in the least. So he strolled between ancient pillars and painted stone, until the sound of exertion struck his ears and the oryx wandered toward the courtyard.

The arrival of so many new (old?) faces had sent the palace astir. But Nakhtmin had little use for listening to rumour and gossip. He was, primarily, hopeful that this influx of newcomers would provide him more opponents to test his mettle with and so hone himself into an ever-better warrior.

And so, Aiesha's scandals went unnoticed by the oryx, but certainly not her fighting stance. From across the yard, he watched her drill with blatant curiosity.

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Still open to others if they'd like to join!

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A series of stones had been placed in a line, each a different spacing from the next. The drill was simple: to charge the line and use footwork to weave between them. The first pass was the simplest—it was a weaving drill—but it was the next that became more difficult, as the body was made to swing haunch-wide; then the third pass was the hardest, as different stones were called out by a voice and the runner was meant to stop and duck or reverse, only to continue again.

Aiesha did not find it particularly difficult, however she was distracted, and could not do sufficient enough work to progress from that second level to the third. Frustration burned inside of her, and no amount of practice with her steps could cull it. Finally she became incensed by her failure and too frustrated to continue, and the lesson concluded as had become common: without advancement. Her heart raced, her emotions risen to a fever-pitch.

She withdrew from the drill and paced the central gulley of the training area, where it was most open and away from others.

She stopped, but not out of any apparent exhaustion of body. Only frustration of mind. Hmm... Nakhtmin mused to himself.

Having not been invited to join her, it was perhaps presumptuous to assume company would be welcome. But as she appeared quite at the end of her own means, or the means of wolven wisdom, the oryx decided the more diplomatic thing would be to approach. Hooves echoed over ancient stone, and greeted her with a nod. Emhotep, Nebet.

Her back was to the approaching mazoi, where the twin shadows of his crown reached forth in a line beneath him, and Ra beaming above. So fixated on catching her breath and with the desire to resume the lesson, Aiesha did not immediately notice the growing loom of him until it was too late, and she caught the final drumming of his hooves upon the stone; then, turning sharply, she was faced with —

Nakhtmin, a name she had yet to attribute to a face, but it could be no other. Ashait had spoken of him. Word traveled around the training grounds of the oryx, and the nebet was at once taken by the man's painted face, and head scythes, and sheer size; all of this, intimidating.

Ah, hello, sir. She was still catching her breath, either from the earlier exercise or his inherent machismo.

A strong exhale stirred the air from his velvety nose, ear swiveling to yet higher attention at her address. He was pleased to be recognized, and this revealed itself in wideness of grin. You have heard of me! That is pleasing, indeed.

He moved to stand beside her, dipping his head in show of respect. To an oryx, such a bow was intending in challenge — the invitation to embrace horns and even bloody battle! It did not mean quite the same thing to a wolf, most generally, but this only meant he could amuse himself privately by double-meanings.

You have been training, I saw this. He told her. What was the goal of your exertions, hmm?

Nakhtmin had a larger-than-life presence which was as equally intimidating as the sheer size of him, or the swords he carried. As he bowed Aiesha felt the distinct impulse to withdraw, to flee—but if she was to become a proper mazoi she would have to adapt. There were a myriad of creatures in service of Satriya, and trusting them was a necessity.

In answer of his question she explained, It was a footwork drill. Khusobek—I do not know if you have met him, he was our jodai— the divisive language was hard to avoid and she did not realize she had used it, splitting Akashingo from Satriya in her mind, It was something he had me doing, and we adapted it a little bit for difficulty.

She was still out of breath, but maybe that was because of Nakhtmin.

Something about... Training myself to breathe? Not just reactions, but... She was a little dizzy, and didn't want to admit it. Her train of thought tapered.