You're Going to be a Pain (Request to Join; Duke & Duchess - E)

Beyond passing, nonetheless. Marc returned, lengthening his blade to try to allow for more area with which to defend.

Bentley sidestepped a passing shot with relative ease, ducking and weaving with little more to go off of than Marc's second sight and their shared knowledge of rudimentary physics. Even so, those two factors made them more than capable of evading with minimal exertion. Riddle me this one. You play baseball. Have you ever played Badminton?

How is that a riddle? Marc asked, unaware of the snarkiness in his tone. I've... watched. Much like he was, now, though with a far less keen and more bored interest. It had been some sort of necessity, with an old friend of his seeming utterly obsessed with a boy on the team. It hadn't registered to her that bringing a guy friend wasn't her greatest idea.

You should try it. It can be remarkably fast paced and there is nothing quite so satisfying as a good... Bentley stepped and kicked back, arcing a swing to catch a whistling shot with the flat of the blade, sending it back towards the training field. ...return.

Marc let himself laugh at that, shining in the blade and looking back at him. "Hey, batter, swing?" He joked, though his voice seemed almost too flat for such. If nothing else, there was a willingness in his expression to try, both the sport and the joking.

Bentley laughed as he ducked beneath another shot. Dear Death, these students are bad shots. How many people have kicked the bucket trying this course? He snapped his wrist once more, sending a stray shot spinning overhead, glaring at the students who couldn't seem to hit water if they fell out of a boat.

I lost count last year. Marc piped in, pausing for a moment, No, that was injuries. They didn't release the death count.

Of course they didn't. Who would believe that a significant number of people die in Death City? He slowed to a stop, having cleared the last set of targets. Looking back, he smirked at the sight of numerous arrows littering their path, some deflected while most were avoided entirely. Bentley allowed himself a smug grin, spinning the weighted end of the chain in his hand.

I'm incredibly grateful that doesn't make me sick, he thought, shrugging but chuckling. And what do you find your overall score to be, now, crackpot?

Bentley mulled over the numbers in his head, periodically glancing between the arrows scattered behind them and the small cut on his hand. I'd say a B+ on account of good defensive execution, but not enough cartwheels.

Cartwheels? Marc questioned, rolling his eyes, Yes, let's become a spinning wheel of death while spinning a sickle. What could possibly go wrong there?

A spinning wheel of death is exactly what I aspire to be, Bentley said with a cheeky grin. Oh, that wasn't the answer you were wanting to hear, was it?

Marc groaned, shaking his head, appearing in the blade with a raised eyebrow, Am I going to regret this?

I'm going to leave that question open-ended. That said, it would be very interesting to see a kusarigama woven into a Ba Gua routine. He slid a foot forward, slowly stepping once and again in rotation, one foot always resting at the spot of the initial step. Chain sliding in hand, he slowly slung the blade in an open windmill, weaving an elaborate cycle of steps and swings.

Marc allowed himself to fade, eyes closing within their currently shared soul space. Though he could have shifted the weight to help with balance, he trusted the new meister to do so on his own, or a least learn from any mistakes. For now, Marc acted as merely a weapon --- nothing more or less --- allowing his wielder to practice and adjust as he saw fit.

Bentley allowed himself to slip fully into a defensive stance, drawing each arc of the blade closer to simulate a deflection. He whipped the sickle airborne, letting gravity carry it to his free hand with a soft thud. It's astonishing how such a high velocity can create a shield of sorts, huh?

It's astonishing that you can do that without hitting yourself, but yes. Marc reappeared, smiling just the slightest bit, azure eyes consuming. Am I both offense and defense for you, then?

Is it an offense to you to say that I would rather use you to deflect an arrow than my hand? He slid the weight down, slowly swinging it in unison with the blade as they circled one another in overlapping blurs.

Marc snorted, disappearing. For enough point.

Is it bad that I want to fight someone? Bentley asked, shaking the tension from his shoulders as he slowed his rotations to a stop. His experience in combat began and ended at nothing, but he had to start eventually and this brief stint on the trails had swelled his confidence.

I'm currently the only one around. Marc stated simply. Most students are in class and those that aren't are likely unpartnered.

Right. Well when class ends, let's find a brute of a human whom you can patronise with comments about his mother. He snorted to himself. Teasing, honest. But we do need practice where we can get it.

Do you want to try hand-to-hand? The weapon inquired, though his mind ran through who would be the most appropriate option for their training.

It wouldn't hurt, he intoned contemplatively. I've never had much experience with hand-t0-hand scrapping, but it would definitely be a useful contingency skill.

At your leisure then. He said, his weapon form starting to glow as he waited to be released.