He lost the dagger. Alistair had moved in a twirl of steel, striking him easily. Robin clung harder to his remaining dagger, his right hand curling into a fist. The other mage, clearly a master, a legend, moved swiftly and gracefully. He reminded him of the wind -- a kismet parallel, considering his magic was making him more like earth. Despite his new weight, he tried a dodge; and he failed. He was hit -- thwack -- Alistair's spear as quick as ever. There was a brief pain, stinging and raw, but Robin knew there should be more.
He picked up the sword with his free hand, pausing only to inspect it. It was a long blade, like the one Aeon had sprouted from his wrist. He weighed it in his hand, surprised to find it maneuvered deftly. It was balanced and he held it well, even with one hand. "Tighter, alright," Robin nodded, gripping his weapons tightly. He had learned this before, he needed to be better. "Right, that I can do. Daggers for quickness, but I can train the long sword," it was an incredible weapon.
Robin wished he had something he could give Alistair. The man, whom he'd really only just met, had given him so much. "Thank you, for this and for everything else," he offered a smile, although his eyes were focused on the revealed mage's weapon. It would be folly to think the man would stop, even to accept his gratitude. "You've done me more kindness than I've ever known," he added, true, but also an attempted distraction. Perhaps his sincerity might catch Alistair off guard -- enough, he hoped, to make some way forward.
He parried the spear, but clumsily, all instinct. The wind blew around him, more aware and able then he -- it watched, Alistair, more cleverly than Robin did. The defiant grunted, spinning, feeling the wind around him, caressing his movements faster and more fluid. He swung with the sword, the whole of his strength behind it. "Thanks," he whispered again, the wind chattering excitedly behind him.
He picked up the sword with his free hand, pausing only to inspect it. It was a long blade, like the one Aeon had sprouted from his wrist. He weighed it in his hand, surprised to find it maneuvered deftly. It was balanced and he held it well, even with one hand. "Tighter, alright," Robin nodded, gripping his weapons tightly. He had learned this before, he needed to be better. "Right, that I can do. Daggers for quickness, but I can train the long sword," it was an incredible weapon.
Robin wished he had something he could give Alistair. The man, whom he'd really only just met, had given him so much. "Thank you, for this and for everything else," he offered a smile, although his eyes were focused on the revealed mage's weapon. It would be folly to think the man would stop, even to accept his gratitude. "You've done me more kindness than I've ever known," he added, true, but also an attempted distraction. Perhaps his sincerity might catch Alistair off guard -- enough, he hoped, to make some way forward.
He parried the spear, but clumsily, all instinct. The wind blew around him, more aware and able then he -- it watched, Alistair, more cleverly than Robin did. The defiant grunted, spinning, feeling the wind around him, caressing his movements faster and more fluid. He swung with the sword, the whole of his strength behind it. "Thanks," he whispered again, the wind chattering excitedly behind him.
