NIGHTINGALE: FOCUS
Sweat glistens on his brow, a rogue strand of hair broken free from his pony tail threatens to break his concentration. It tickles against his face, taunting him to move.
When did this get so hard?
In his youth he could hold a deeper lunge for hours in training. His arm would barely quiver holding an iron bar weighting three times more then his rapier.
Now though, it had been less then 5 minutes, he could feel the muscles in his legs quivering, his arm screaming, begging him to just relax...
Focus
'Just clear your mind. Relax. Find that happy place.'
Nightingale can almost hear his mother's words even now... admitedly they normally included a creatively colourful description of failure and the smack of the cane to help guide his posture and stance.
A smile curls his lips, causing a small bead of moisture to tickle over his skin.
Focus.
What isnt helping is the tapestry of bruises that cover his torso, some fresh and raw others mottled and fading.
Thats new as well. When he dueled in his youth the wounds healed quickly, now they linger. Reminding him of his age and worse then that, slowing his blade.
It almost cost him last night. The bruise from the thug’s club pulses with every second. Growing in ache till it is in danger of overwhelming him
Focus
Deep breaths, he slows his pulse, controls his breath. Pain is just another lesson learnt.
Anyway, it had been worth it. The bastard wouldn’t be hurting another innocent family again. Another smile. They'd offered him gold.. he stopped them being robbed and they had offered the money the robbers wanted. There was a strange irony to that..
Of course he refused. It wasnt about money, its never the money. Its about keeping people safe. Protecting those who cant. So no one has to suffer like he had.
The memory of her laughter burst to the front of his mind.
FOCUS.
The way her cheeks dimpled as she smile
FOCUS!!
Her arms wrapped around him, enveloped in her embrace and drinking her in
FOCUS!!!
'I love you Gale'
The sword clatters from his fingers. He doesnt remember when it happened but he is kneeling on the floor, bent over double.
Is that sweat in the sand, or has he been crying?
It hurts.. more then any cut or broken bone. Its a deep raw pain. No one should feel this. No one should hurt this deeply.
If he had just been better, more disciplined.
If he had just been more.
A slow ragged breath fills his lungs. The pain turning to anger, to a fuel his body hungry devours. Driving him back to his feet, gathering the sword as he stands.
The tears still fall from his eyes, but he barely notices. The sword clenched in his hand so tightly that his knuckles pop and turn white.
No one should suffer, he will make sure of it. Where he can he will destroy the evils that lurk in this city, he will purge it from the streets, from the dark corners where it festers. He will carve it from the cancerous heart of the guards and the liars who pretend to protect but let criminals torture, kill and destroy the innocents.
He is the lightening and they will suffer.
FOCUS!!!!!
Slowly he relaxes his grip, the storm of lightening that had been raging around the blade, dies back to just a crackle dancing over his knuckles.
Another deep breath.
It’s still early, Calli won’t be awake for at least another few hours. He still has time to train, slowly he moves through the form, ending in the long lunge.
He just needs to hold it for 10 minutes this time.. just ten minutes. He just needs to try a little harder.. a little longer...
He just needs to be more..
