[ The best place to channel any lingering hostility is into their weaponry. That's how it's always worked and it's a wonder neither of them have needed to use phoenix downs on each other while navigating puberty. Now mostly on the other side of it, their gunblades have become a conduit of their anger where steel can crash against steel in a well timed ballet of brute force and violence.
They've had years of this and that familiarity has made it so that neither of them can rest comfortably on their laurels or rely on the same old tricks. The second one of them falls into any kind of repetition, the other is there to take advantage. So it goes the following morning when they meet up.
He's still in his head about yesterday and it shows in the way he parries or blocks. Usually when they spar, Squall can tap into the flow of their duel, losing himself to the rhythm of it that always leaves him feeling satisfyingly spent. Today he feels like he's on his back foot and by the time they've called the match with a gritted out "Enough" from Squall, there's nothing but exhaustion and an edge of having not quite gotten what he needed from their fight.
He knows his limits though. There's a clean slice across his shoulder, down through to his chest. The result of not blocking quickly enough which handicapped him for the remainder of their session. Now as they're winding down, Squall peels the wet fabric away from his skin to inspect the damage. It's too bloody to see how deep it is but since he can still move his arm, it can't be too terrible. ]
You could have pulled the trigger earlier. [ He points it out around his panting and the grimace that pinches his expression as he applies pressure to the wound. There was a split second before Squall had been able to get Revolver up and under Hyperion. If Seifer had wanted to, Squall suspects he could have ended things a lot sooner then and there. ]
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ninetydegrees
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on 2024-10-29 06:15 am (UTC)They've had years of this and that familiarity has made it so that neither of them can rest comfortably on their laurels or rely on the same old tricks. The second one of them falls into any kind of repetition, the other is there to take advantage. So it goes the following morning when they meet up.
He's still in his head about yesterday and it shows in the way he parries or blocks. Usually when they spar, Squall can tap into the flow of their duel, losing himself to the rhythm of it that always leaves him feeling satisfyingly spent. Today he feels like he's on his back foot and by the time they've called the match with a gritted out "Enough" from Squall, there's nothing but exhaustion and an edge of having not quite gotten what he needed from their fight.
He knows his limits though. There's a clean slice across his shoulder, down through to his chest. The result of not blocking quickly enough which handicapped him for the remainder of their session. Now as they're winding down, Squall peels the wet fabric away from his skin to inspect the damage. It's too bloody to see how deep it is but since he can still move his arm, it can't be too terrible. ]
You could have pulled the trigger earlier. [ He points it out around his panting and the grimace that pinches his expression as he applies pressure to the wound. There was a split second before Squall had been able to get Revolver up and under Hyperion. If Seifer had wanted to, Squall suspects he could have ended things a lot sooner then and there. ]