nothing in between me and the rain

[Cian DeGraff]

With the winter finally gone, springtime had finally crept up on them. And that, of course, meant rain. It had been a rarity to see the sun in Teronna this last week, so cloudy days were the norm...however, the ones lingering above were darker, more sinister, and threatening a downpour. He could smell it in the air as he stood outside the barracks in the training yard. Most had already gone inside but he remained. His jacket was discarded as well as those gloves, allowing fingers to curl tightly around the hilt of his sword with its familiar, worn leather on the handle. It always seemed to bring him comfort, maybe because it was all he really knew, all he believed he was good at.

Was it strange to feel as though he had forgotten what it was like to have a blade in hand, to feel the dirt beneath his boots? After the scuffle during the king's party, he had sustained minor injuries and took a little time off, even if he hadn't wanted to. It wasn't that long of a time and the temporary lapse hadn't made Cian completely forget his skills. Perhaps he was finally beginning to thaw out from the bitter chill that winter had brought, making that fire inside burn hotter again. He could finally just be himself once more until some courtly event drew him away. Or some other business...

He had no opponent today, so each swing or jab of the sword, every sidestep and rush forward was against an imaginary rival. Cian simply went through the motions, warming himself up, feeling the flow of adrenaline to keep himself moving even as he heard the crash of thunder above. There was still no rain, but he probably wouldn't have cared regardless. Oddly enough, this was a time he could think clearly and empty his head of thoughts, while simultaneously not falter in step.

[ Aoife Lee Frye ]

[Aoife Lee Frye]

A few days had quickly become a few weeks. Yet, somehow, Aoife found she did not mind her extended stay in the capital. She had managed to spend time with her cousin, Rosemary; managed to walk to the sea each and every day; and even begun to drop by the barracks to train against a partner rather than a practice dummy on occasion. The few weeks away from home had done more for her mind and mood than months of haunting the castle like a living ghost. Some days were easier than others still, and she was prone to bouts of melancholy. But the good days were slowly beginning to outnumber the bad ones.

    Today was one of the in-between days. The days where she did not want to go out, but she also did not want to remain still and trapped with nothing but her own thoughts for company. So, she breakfasted with her father in silence before he left her for his offices. Aoife had tried to read, but the words blurred together upon the page and her mind still wandered. She had tried to compose a letter to her mother, but there was nothing new to say. When that had failed, she had gone for a walk only to find that encouraged the thoughts rather than chase them away. Ever since the Unseelie, the rogue mystics of Teronna, had attacked the party those few short weeks ago- Aoife had found it even more difficult to quieten her mind and soothe rough thoughts.  A storm was brewing, she could sense it.  Rogue mystics and the crown, she felt the pull of allegiance to both- and yet she sided with neither.  Instead she was helpless between them.

    Eventually, she settled on training to distract her from the maelstrom of thoughts which threatened to drown her. Though her mind had sharpened somewhat in the past few weeks and the words of her incantations were coming back to her memory, Aoife found her form was still lacking. Years of training, a lifetime really, and it was slipping away from her with every day she did not pick up a weapon. The clouds seemed to darken with every hoofbeat as the witch rode to the barracks but that did not deter her. What was a little rain after all?

    It seemed most did not share that sentiment, and she found the barracks noticeably empty of the life it usually bore. There were only a few stragglers, either training regardless of the oncoming downpour or hurrying to find shelter. In one fluid motion, Aoife hopped down from her horse and led him to the stables. There was little point in him being cold and miserable while she trained. No, better for him to be warm and dry with a bellyful of hay. With that settled, she crept as though a shadow though the barracks in search of a willing partner (or at the very least a familiar face).

    It was then she saw him, though it took a moment or two to recognise the man as Cian DeGraff . His expression much more serious than when they had last parted ways. The witch watched him for a few moments, not wanting to ruin his concentration as he worked through the motions. Had he been her brother (or indeed, had they known each other better) she would have crept up behind him, to warn him of the dangers of neglecting to pay attention to his surroundings. Instead, however, Aoife gave Cian a small wave to alert him of his audience. ”Hey.” She breathed, voice soft and low, as though he was a deer that may spook at the sight of her.  But then in an instant her features softened into a smile and her tone turned to teasing.  ”All the training in the world won't help you if you insist on dropping your guard so readily." 

[Cian DeGraff]

Everything was precision, everything felt like perfection. The familiarity of that blade in hand made all the tension ease despite the fact that, when being properly used, should not bring on a calm as it did now. No, when blood was spilled, it made his heart race, made the usual grinning nobleman into something altogether different. He'd once wondered what it would be like to have the ability to literally become the animals he connects with, to become this vicious, feral thing although controlling its mind often left him completely not himself. It was dangerous sometimes, and he knew a part of him shouldn't like it.

Gritting his teeth, the steel whirred against the air with each swing, his mind not registering anyone else because there was always others nearby. One would expect he wouldn't be as lax on the battlefield, especially with siblings who were constantly testing him. Maybe he needed someone else daring enough to keep him on his toes. Still, he caught movement in his peripheral from that wave, and Cian was quick to stop and turn; suddenly becoming some grinning fool even as his heart continued to thrum in his chest and he tried to ease his breathing. There was Cian, and then there was the soldier.

"Aoife." He was clearly surprised to see her here, maybe even happy about it. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?" he answered her with a low chuckle. He had been so oblivious on that beach...yet, he hadn't completely been himself. The thing was, he couldn't tell her that or tell her why. He couldn't just tell her that he possessed a magic ring and that the bear's mind really messed with his own.

Cian's shoulders eased as the sword dangled from his fingers now, his eyes still on her. "You decided to come back then?" His question was followed with a curious lift of his brow.

[Aoife Lee Frye]

It felt almost intrusive, to watch him at work without his knowledge. Despite this, Aoife did not feel guilty in the slightest. Had their roles been reversed, she would have been glad to be observed doing the one thing she had been good at. The one thing that she had invested so much time and effort into perfecting. It was natural to them both, going through the paces like this, weapon in hand. Plus, it was more than interesting for the witch to see Cian DeGraff like this: in his element rather than out of it. A different man to the fish-out-of-water she had met at the docks a little while ago.

    But then he saw here, and the grin she remembered returned to him. Two sides of the same coin. ”Cian."  She said somewhat warmly, dropping the formalities as he did.  Though she hadn’t sought him out, Aoife was far from surprised to find him here. This was, after all, where the DeGraff had said he would be. Tilting her head ever so slightly, grey eyes wandered to the sword in his hand before finding his features once again. ”No, you are not.” She said with a slight shrug, remembering just how he carefree and almost childish they had been the last time they were alone- and how easily they had both seemed to drop their guard in that instance. No, this was precise and determined, yet natural. Seeing him as the soldier only seemed to make him seem more out of place at the docks.

    ”Ah, no.” Shaking her head, Aoife looked almost embarrassed to have been caught at the barracks, weapon in hand, as though she truly had re-enlisted. ”Not quite, don’t get your hopes up, I just-“ Stumbling over the words with wide eyes, ”- just came to train.”

[Cian DeGraff]

Maybe he shouldn't have been curious, but in regards to seeing her away from the docks or the beach and on ground that was apparently more familiar to her...he was. It wasn't abnormal for a woman to be on the Terronian military, but it was somewhat of a rarity to see, and see one do well. Something told him that Aoife was very good.

"I suppose I deserve that," he said in amusement to her words, lifting the sword up to rest the flat edge of it against his shoulder casually. "That last time...wasn't one of my finer moments, I will say." Free hand rubbed the back of his neck as if it would make the embarrassment disappear from his face, but he was certain his ears were beginning to get red. It had been a mixture of both, really. He'd let the Mystic get too close and injury him slightly...but he had warned the others and quite clearly survived. The arrow only grazed his skin anyway.

At least he wasn't the only one that was a little flustered. Lips pressed together to suppress the smile that was trying to curl his mouth when she fumbled with words. Indeed, it did look like she had re-enlisted, but there was also no penalty for simply coming here to practice. Especially when the military was perhaps one of the biggest parts of your life. Even when one left, sometimes it just never truly went away. That was the feeling he had when it came time for him to decide whether to leave or stay. But Cian was far from a politician and possessed no other skill (except maybe hunting) so this just seemed like the most logical choice.

He feigned disappointment when that hand went to his chest, clutching as if completely crushed. "Aye, my hopes have crumbled to my feet. But-" Letting the sword fall from his shoulder, fingers adjusting their grip on the hilt, he regarded her with a light cant of his head. "Care for a sparring partner then?"

Curiosity killed the cat, they always say.

[Aoife Lee Frye]

Cian carried the sword as though it was an extension of his arm, an extension of his self.  A true soldier.  Looking at him like this, Aoife felt a pang of loneliness in her chest.  A pain that caught in her throat and almost made her choke on the words she was going to utter. It was as though all the air in her lungs had suddenly been squeezed out, leaving her breathless and aching.  Mourning for a life that could have and should have been hers.  As Cian spoke, Aoife managed to pull herself away from being overwhelmed, though its still took a moment or two before she felt as though she could breathe properly again.

    ”It’s a shame you had an audience then.” She joked awkwardly, something of a smile finally coming to her lips. ”Though I am glad I was able to witness it.”  Their last encounter had been awkward for them both, the two of them out of the depth with a lot on their minds.   Now, now it was still awkward though for different reasons and Aoife was relieved to see some colour creep into his complexion as her own skin flushed slightly.

    The staff in her hands suddenly felt heavier, and the irrational fear that she had forgotten how to wield it began to creep into her thoughts.  And gloved fingers tightened and relaxed of their own accord against the leather wrappings. There hadn’t been a day in the last fifteen years that Aoife hadn’t at least held a weapon, if just to look at it.  When grey eyes came to rest once again on Cian DeGraff , the woman couldn’t contain a short burst of laughter.  ”Don’t be ridiculous.”  She said, trying and failing to keep her expression serious.  ”I don’t think that’s a good idea, I’ve seen you practice…”  Aoife continued, still struggling to keep a straight face.  ”… I would feel terrible if I hurt you.”

    Despite her words, the mystic twirled the staff in her hands, satisfied with its weight and the way it cleaved through the air. ”But if you insist.”

[Cian DeGraff]

This was what he had. This and his family. He really had no other purpose and he grew up feeling as though that was fine. Well, it was. It seemed a simple enough life, but it's slowly becoming far from it, and he was silently wondering how long it took before everything spiraled out of control. It was a dark thought, but his expression barely faltered.

Aoife, though, seemed to be struggling for a brief moment. There came that feeling again, like there was something wrong just because of that split second of hesitation on her part, something there that he didn't understand but couldn't question her about. In all honesty, he didn't like it, but it only lasted a few moments before she was managing to reply.

"You're glad?" Cian appeared amused by that, not really knowing how to take it. He wasn't offended in the very least because he was still grinning. It could've been worse. It had been a very bad situation that could have escalated a lot more, and he thought he and the others handled it fairly well, considering. So, he was glad as well.

And now, she was teasing him.

Her laughter was a sudden delight that he hadn't realized he needed until it was ringing in his ears, and the smile spread further across his face. Really, she could taunt all she wanted, so long as it kept a frown from her lips. He'd be ridiculous all day if he had to. Eyebrows lifted in charmed surprise at the mention of his practicing and the soft laugh that escaped him was borderline bashful. Right, he supposed battling against air didn't really hone one's skills. Still, the challenge was beginning to boil in his blood now and the other side of Cian DeGraff was about to show.

"Yes," he said, his voice dropping low as a rotation of his wrist familiarized him with the weight of his sword again. "I insist." Bright eyes finally drifted from her face to her weapon of choice. It would have a long reach, which meant he'd have to be quicker on his feet, find a break in her guard to get in close enough. His head was tilting again in subtle study when his gaze went back to her...then he was charging.

Rushing forward, he'd wait for the last possible moment to drift to her right, swinging the blade horizontally towards her midsection as he went.

[Aoife Lee Frye]

”I am glad.”  Aoife confirmed with a quick bob of her head. She was glad.  Meeting him by the sea that day had been the catalyst for her recent string of better-than-average days.  Though she hadn’t been sure if it was the sea air, the change of scenery, or if it had been the company of one Cian DeGraff .  Keeping her thoughts to herself, the mystic offered him a small smile rather than an explanation.  There was too much to say, and it was not in her nature to overshare.  But she had enjoyed their conversation, though it had been brief and a little awkward for them both.  So yes, she was glad.

    His company was easy, Cian never pressed too far or talked too much.  He had no head for business or politics.  She didn’t know what had transpired between their families, but now Aoife made a mental note to ask the next time she found her father in an agreeable mood.  Whatever the cause, Aoife found her curiosity growing with every moment in the soldier’s company.

    Cian didn’t grant her a moment to think, only a second to react as he charged towards her.  Aoife wasn’t sure what she had expected, a bow of some sorts perhaps?  But no, this was better, this was organic.  This was sparring.  There was no form or thinking, just action and reaction.

    As the adrenaline surged through her veins, Aoife felt the niggling thoughts pushed to the periphery of her mind as she spun to deflect his blade with the midsection of her staff. The sound was like music to her, a symphony of metal on metal sweeter than any orchestra.

    His first slash blocked, Aoife bounced back on the balls of her feet, putting distance between them as though gearing for an attach.  Grey eyes glinted as she watched him.  She had been trained to pick up on the slightest movement, the smallest twitch, and Aoife was relieved the training had come flooding back.  Distance was to her advantage, her weapon having the greater reach.  Space gave her time to think.

    The grammyre was there, Aoife knew it. But she knew better than to summon it forth, Aoife was many things- but a woman with a death wish she was not.

    Feigning to his left, Aoife swept the length of her weapon towards him, hoping to throw him off balance as he dodged or parried.  Cian had given her no time to think let alone prepare.  So she had to be careful to not injure him.  It took a moment or two before she realised that she might be being ridiculous.  Cian was a trained soldier; he could defend himself. But then again, so had Alasdair.  So for now, Aoife held back.

[Cian DeGraff]

He didn't want to wait. He didn't want to slow down. In all honesty, Cian expected Aoife to use all of her ability and strength against him, and not hold bad. This wasn't a battle but it was a spar of skills, and he didn't intend to look like a fool this time.

Despite her teasing today, Aoife had appeared unsure during their last encounter in regards to the military. Because of what, exactly, he wasn't sure yet his curiosity remained. She was a trained warrior and he wanted to coax that side of her out, see what she was made of, see if this boiling adrenaline was both euphoric as well as a strange calm for her as it was for him. If he wasn't careful, though, this spar might be short-lived.

Cian knew he had to keep moving. To stay in one spot for too long would give her the advantage with that reach. To give her a moment to breathe and process could result in giving her the chance to use her magic against him. As smiling and consoling as he could be normally, he was quite the opposite when he gripped that sword in hand. He was determined and calculating, letting all else fall to the wayside. There was even little concern for her sharp blades as he had been cut and nicked so many times before, and yet, he would also be wary of his own weapon should he get close enough to use it. Although he seemed to be in another head space, it was still Cian. He'd not harm her.

With his first attack blocked, he only took a couple steps back. Just when he was ready to try again, she was striking in retaliation. He nearly missed his chance, but Cian managed to duck below the swiping staff and turn; rising up to bring that sword in an overhead swing, using the momentum of his movements.

[Aoife Lee Frye]

The adrenaline from his initial charge surged through her blood, sharpening her mind and quickening her heartbeat.  There was no other way to describe the feeling other than alive.  No thoughts or emotions, merely instinct honed by a lifetime of training.  There was no real threat on the training ground, though they fought with real weapons and real skill: the aim was to make the other yield rather than to land a mortal wound.

    She was still holding back, keeping her silence and her magic to herself, not that Cian was giving her much opportunity to clear her mind enough to reach for the grammyre gift- even if it had been sage to use it.  Magic required concentration, and most of hers was kept on keeping Cian from gaining the upper hand.  Her face remained calm, impassive.  If Aoife was enjoying herself, her features did not show it.  The only time she could keep what she was thinking from her face was during battle.  Remaining calm and expressionless made it difficult for her opponent to anticipate her next move.  It was a skill that had not managed to transfer to a life at court, when her face betrayed exactly what she was thinking exactly when she was thinking it.

    There wasn’t time to bring up her weapon to block his swing, so she leapt back out of the blade’s path.  Keeping her balance but losing her momentum.  Grey eyes snapped back to him, the corner of her lips lifting in the slightest smile as if goading Cian to charge again as the first patters of rain began to fall.

[Cian DeGraff]

His heart was thundering wildly in his chest as every muscle in his arms tensed with anticipation. It had been awhile since he last sparred against someone other than his own family or trainees younger and less seasoned than him. Cian was beginning to enjoy this a little too much already and had to remember to focus. Because he didn't know her style, he couldn't assume anything...and that was exactly the exhilarating part of this all. It was a challenge his worrying mind needed. She was going to keep him on his toes.

Unlike her stoic expression, Cian allowed a wry grin to curl up a corner of his mouth after she avoided the last swing. He figured this could go on for hours unless he slowed down (which was quite possible) or she let her guard down even an inch and he acted quickly enough. Aoife certainly had the advantage right now, and he liked it. It was forcing him to think, his mind calculating any possible approaches all in the span of a few seconds. When she didn't strike, though, and instead was daring him to charge, he was hesitant. Amused, but finally hesitant.

Slow, carefully placed steps began to carry him in a circle around her; the blade turning in his hand as he studied those pale features, waiting for any movement of that staff. Then, the rain finally began to fall in gentle droplets but he hardly seemed to notice, because he was too preoccupied with the subtle curling of her mouth, too busy trying to figure out if she was truly going to make him strike again first or if she was luring him in. His lips as if to share some teasing words, but he decided against it.

The sword was flipped around in his hand so that the steel ran parallel with his forearm, preparing himself.

With the rain beginning to wet the dirt beneath their feet, he was going to chance it. She was goading him, and maybe he was a sucker for punishment. Cian pushed off in a rush to close that gap between them, drifting towards her right but then immediately to her left where he'd use the slick mud to his advantage. Falling, he'd slide across the ground to get as far behind her as he could and attempt to kick at the back of her knee in order to bring her down.

[Aoife Lee Frye]

Usually she liked that grin on him, he wore it so well it seemed impossible not to return his smile.  This time however, Aoife’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she tried to pre-empt his next move to read what was happening behind those eyes.  It was thrilling, going from hunter to hunted in a split second.  More importantly, it was a challenge.  Though distance brought her an advantage, it took mere seconds to close should Cian DeGraff decide to move forward.

    This feeling, the exhilaration, the thrill.  It was exactly why Aoife had made her home in the military.  It was addicting, better than anything else she had ever experienced until meeting Alasdair.  Nothing had compared to it until he walked into her life, sword in hand, and shared it with her.  It had been so long since she had felt this way, since she had felt anything.  It was like the first sip of water after marching for hours, a soft pillow after weeks of sleeping in the mud and snow, it was like jumping into a cool lake on the hottest day of summer.  Only better.  So much better that everything paled in comparison, nothing could come close to this.  And she had let herself forget what it felt like, had buried the memory so deeply that it was like feeling it for the first time again.  Still, Aoife did not smile, there would be time for emotions when this was over and she had won.

    Grey eyes never left him as he began to circle her, and she followed his movements like a snake watching it’s charmer.  Her weight balanced upon the balls of her feet, Aoife’s muscles were tense, coiled and ready to spring at his first hint of movement.  But for the moment, Cian circled, and the slow steps seemed to take a lifetime.

    Then he was rushing towards her, and she prepared to parry.

    And then he was behind her.

    His blow landed.

    Knee buckling behind her, Aoife went down, rolling in the mud to put some distance between the two of them before she sprang back to her feet.

    Now it was on.

    Miraculously, she had managed to keep hold of her staff.  She held it in one hand for a moment as she wiped the worst of the mud from her face.  He had landed the first blow and now she had to prove to them both that she was just as capable as he.  The ground was slick beneath her feet as she dashed forward, hoping she hadn’t given the man enough time to fully recover from his slide.  Slashing to his right, jaw clenched and eyes wide, Aoife hoped to catch the cross guard of his sword and knock it from his hand.

[Cian DeGraff]

Truly, he was taking a risk. She was faster than he had anticipated and it wouldn't take her much to stop him dead in his tracks. But where he wasn't very brazen outside these barracks, he certainly was during combat. He took those chances, risked taking the advantage away from his opponent the first moment he had. Cian had learned to be quick. He was shorter than Rowen who was also far more powerful- growing up, it was either be quick and spry or get crushed underneath his brothers' boots.

Even as he had been rushing towards her, he accepted the moment of dread before he was sliding. He accepted the chance that she would turn quick enough and have one of those bladed ends pressed against his neck. Cian was doing it anyway, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and making him move without second guessing, making everything around her suddenly blur or disappear. His focus was solely on her and those calculating grey eyes.

To his surprise, she had gone down. That didn't mean she waited around for him to try and strike again. Aoife was already rolling back up to her feet, leaving him there partially blind from the now heavy rain and half-prepared in the mud before he was climbing back up...

Well, shit.

He was barely standing when she rushed at him, her staff locking with his sword that left the impact reverberating up and down his arm. Cian couldn't hold it, not fully prepared, and she succeeded in throwing it from his grasp. The weapon flew some distance away, falling loudly to the mud but he dare not try to go for it. He could reach for the knife sheathed at his back, yet it would do little since this wasn't a fight to the death.

Still, he was likely about to get hurt, and he probably shouldn't be so willing to let that happen.

So, melee it was then. Cian took a risk once more, side-stepping mere seconds after his blade dropped to the soaked earth. Daring to take hold near one of her hands on the staff, his opposite arm simultaneously tried to bring an elbow down against hers to try and break her hold. She disarmed him, and he was about to try and do the very same.

[Aoife Lee Frye]

What had started as a light smattering of rain was quickly becoming more of a downpour, and Aoife found the ground beneath her feet becoming more and more slippery as their sparring continued.  It wasn’t a problem; it was impossible to live and fight in Teronna without becoming accustomed to the rain.  Keeping her centre of gravity low, Aoife twisted the staff in her hands: knocking the sword from his hands with no flourish or exclamation.  She did not turn or glance to see where the blade had landed, she knew it had landed far enough to not be a threat (at least not in that moment) and that was all she needed to know.  Instead grey eyes held their focus on Cian DeGraff .  The adrenaline was still pumping, energising her with each beat of her heart.  Still fuelling her and driving her forward.

    Caked in mud and effectively brawling in the rain.  It was far from dignified, nothing like the fencing matches one could observe in court amongst idle nobles.  Their match had awoken something long buried in Aoife, and should it come to it: she was willing to find dirty if it meant winning.  Biting, kicking, scratching, it was all on the table.  Even if all that failed, Aoife wouldn't reach for the grammyre.  The mystic wanted to prove herself capable, yes, she also wanted to win... but not at the cost of losing her life.

    Though disarmed, Cian didn’t yield. It wasn’t over yet.

    As Cian’s elbow connected, her grip loosened but not quite enough to lose hold of the weapon.  He was heavier than her, almost definitely stronger too, and Aoife guessed his grip was probably too strong to break by simply yanking her staff towards her.  Instead, tightening her hold on the weapon, the woman threw her whole-body weight backwards into the mud.  If it worked, she would pull him off balance.  If it worked well, she would pull him down with her.  If it didn’t, she would be lying flat on her back, staff in hand but still vulnerable to the next attack.

    Should Cian’s grip hold and he get pulled off balance and down with her, Aoife hoped to plant a kick in his chest as she threw the soldier over her and into the mud. Not enough to break a rib, but certainly enough to wind him.

[Cian DeGraff]

Thoroughly soaked by the rain and half-caked in mud, Cian remained determined to see this out. What the end result would be, however, was still up in the air. Every time he thought he had the advantage, she was taking it back and making him have to think rather quickly on his feet. If he had had a moment to breathe through all of this, that grin may have still been on his face from the thrill of the fight. He almost didn't want to stop.

From just their first meeting, Cian felt that Aoife Lee Frye was as beautiful as she was determined, soft spoken and yet surprisingly vicious, and he had a feeling she had a lot more to give in order to beat him down. As she thought about proving herself capable, he was already thinking that she was exceedingly so. She was already winding him, forcing him to make daring choices when many people kept to standard routines.

She was also brazen. Instead of trying to break his hold by some other means, she was daringly throwing herself back onto the ground. Cian should have let go. He should have let her fall so that he could win back the advantage and possibly see an end to this seemingly ceaseless spar. But he hadn’t. Like a fool, he clung tightly to her weapon and was suddenly being yanked forward after her.

There was a moment of panic as he tried to discern where to fall, wary of the duel blades at the ends of the staff, but she was already seconds ahead of him. That kick connected with his chest, and Aoife managed to use the momentum of their fall to throw him up and over; his back slamming down onto the muddy earth and knocking the air from his lungs.

Heaving a breath and squinting his eyes against the pelting rain, he realized he still had a grip on that staff...but when he shifted his attention to the side, he realized his sword was nearby, a few feet out of reach. He hesitated, unsure of whether to let go and rush for it, or hang on tight. Either way, she nearly had him pinned.

A tilt of his chin, he was looking at her upside down for but a moment before, ultimately, he let go. The mud made it difficult as Cian tried to get up at least to his knees, trying to reach for his weapon. Now, it was just a matter of who was faster.