As he sat on his rock and waited -- thankfully, not for too long -- Fenn had one or two second thoughts about this foray into the arena. Maybe three.
His will faltered for a few brash seconds after his designated opponent as strode in, white coat trailing behind. "A fine choice for an arena, boy," the golden-eyed man said, his sonorous voice ringing clearly across the clearing. He walked with an uprightness that Fenn had seen in only one other person before; Vincent. Shit. "But forgive me. I was expecting someone a little… older."
Fenn shrugged and brushed a stray curl away from his eyes, a smooth movement that hid his uncertainty well enough. Already, a million thoughts were running through his head. How did fights work here, exactly? Was there a custom exchange of witty banter? Should they introduce themselves? Maybe it had been rash to take the leap into these sorts of frays without any study first. Too late to change his mind now. The man seemed to expect a real reply, but unfortunately, Fenn had no words to offer, and all-too-common problem for the boy. He dragged his finger across the smooth stone to create a swirl of frost that served as a quick slate for his thoughts.
WOULDN’T ANYONE?
AM FENNIK GLENWEY. YOU?
A grin danced on the man’s lips; he introduced himself with a gentlemanly dip of his head. “Shinsou Vaan Osiris.”
Fenn gave a curt nod while studying the man intensely. That was a name that rang faintly familiar to his ear, much like Ulroke or Freebird did. Thus, it stood to reason that Shinsou was probably someone cool enough to be discussed by the Tarot, some strange and terrible living legend.
It figured.
A second was spent ruminating on his own strengths; he could climb, he had some magic, and he was well versed in the art of fleeing. Lovely. All those skills fit comfortably on one hand. Meanwhile, this confident giant was packing a fucking sword at his side! And he didn’t exactly look dimwitted either. Truth be told, Fenn had been expecting a brainless brute of some kind.
That’s okay. Nothing he can do to me in here would be permanent, and nothing I do is permanent. Right? he reassured himself, standing up from his perch, cracking his knuckles. A deep, shivery breath was had. Shinsou was alert now, his golden gaze bright, his hand to his sword. He was just as ready as the boy. And yet, he seemed hesitant to strike first. I wanted to learn to defend myself. So, now’s the chance. I faced a dragon and walked away alive, so I’d damn well do my best here. Let's begin!
Snow whipped up around Fenn like a shroud. Sharp-scented pine needles, cones, and twigs were scattered into the air. The boy's typical dumb bravado returned, if only for a minute. His bright cloak was removed with a flourish and a grin, cast aside on the rock besides him. Without the streak of green he blended in to the sudden storm much better. Fenn jumped off and vanished into the white that swooped through the area, his movements muffled by snow, though it couldn't muffle his pounding heart. He tapped into his innate affinity for all things icy, hoping it would cooperate with him for this fight. It responded by tickling his fingers with a rush of frost. A few chunks of blue ice burst into being and hovered in the air over his open palms, just itching to be flung in the right direction -- this strong man’s kisser.
Time for some blunt force trauma!
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