The Blade at Your Throat [Lukas/Solomon]

THE CITY OF LIGHT
Shing. Sparks flew to the air, amid darkness.

Shing. Again. A flurry of heat, spiraling outward into nothing. Reflecting against strands of silver, the faint glow of pale skin.

Shing.

And it would stop. A whetstone held tight in Lukas' hand, tight enough he could almost crack it. Anger traced the back of his neck with hairs standing on end, hammering his frustration with another slide of his hand.

Shing. The sparks caught his eye this time, intently watching. How long has it been since I sharpened a sword? Lukas squinted in an attempt to jog his memory, the darkness that surrounded him turning the thoughts sour. Confinement. Silence. An eternity in a box. Nothing worth remembering, but he did it still.

The whetstone turned back to the metal, stopping with a faint tap. A pinched mouth in the dark room, the man standing slowly. "Good enough." Lukas turned the sword in his palm, the faintest light reflecting against it - a window on the opposite of the room, a vacant training hall. On another day, it might be bustling with recruits, but damage control was in effect. That, and he had requested the room some weeks earlier.

Not that he could use it like he planned.

A frustrated clasping and unclasping of the broadsword's hilt, visible annoyance not-so-visible. An angry bark followed - "Lights!" - and so it was. Fluorescents lining the ceiling came to life, Lukas erroneously shifting the sword atop his shoulder as another hand dug into his pocket. Numbers clicked one after another, a ring emanating as he held his phone up.

"You use a sword, right?" A moment as the man on the line responded, Lukas cutting him off. "I'm gonna send you an address. Get over here." With that, he hung up, and a text was sent. For the moment, the man would wait, sword trailing idly through the air.

"Asshole."

Solomon voiced that thought towards his reflection in the window, directly after Lukas hung up the phone. He didn't know him entirely well. Thus, it was difficult to gain much of an opinion on the man. At the very least, he could have let him explain himself. Shrugging his shoulders, Solomon quickly prepared himself, dressing within his typical attire. From the way he came across, Solomon assumed it an invite to train.

There was no reason to refuse his summons. After all, for as much as his anger might have subsided, he was committed to growing stronger. When he lost consciousness on that chaotic battlefield, he resolved himself to remain unwavering in that pursuit of development. Any form of training was a welcome gift, even better if it revolved around swordsmanship.

Fully prepared, Solomon utilized Hirenkyaku to follow the directions to the address on his phone, arriving within the span of a few minutes. Stepping through the vacant training hall, Solomon cast his azure gaze towards Lukas. His expression was stern, though not entirely unwelcoming. He simply understood Lukas wasn't the type to just call someone to just play around. He was all about getting to the point. Solomon respected that approach. Thus, he understood why he called him here. Solomon noted the sword in his hand, curiously observing the blade before his gaze returned towards his face.

"I was wondering when you'd call for a spar. Judging by the sword in your hand, I see you've chosen the form of combat today as well."

Placing his hand forward, electrified reishi would dance around the air in a small whirlwind of azure lightning, the hilt of Keraunos manifesting within the palm of his hand. Spirit weapon in hand, Solomon would allow the blade to dance idly in the air as he kept a loose grip around the hilt, curious to see if there was anything else Lukas had to say before they started.

THE CITY OF LIGHT
"Something like that." Lukas responded with a shrug, the blade's point dropping low. His gaze slipped across Solomon, his knuckles whitening underneath the sanrei as he gripped. A hilt felt almost alien, the weight of metal even more so. "This look like a spirit weapon to you?"

He'd slip his hand up the hilt, grabbing the sword's guard. A hand and half hilt, it was rather plain in appearance, roughly the size of his geisterklinge. Raising it to the light, it was fairly obviously not a spirit weapon. "After that shitshow, I'm tapped out. So I figure," - Lukas sighed, canines grit in a scowl - "need to tighten up what I can do. I'm not worth it with a bow, but swordplay? Not enough Quincy bother. You're the exception, far as I can tell."

A cock of the man's shoulder as he'd ready himself, the blade flashing with light in movement. Silver strands shifted as his leg drew back, arm slipping across his chest. The sword pointed across, tip swaying slightly in front of him. Lukas exhaled slowly, a step forward into a leap; his voice ringing with an echo in the empty room.

"En garde."

Solomon shook his head softly in reply to the man's question. It clearly didn't appear to be a spirit weapon, leading Solomon to assume he made the inquiry in jest. From his next words, the sternritter developed a better idea of why Lukas required his presence apart from anyone else. Well, Freyja was fairly proficient with a blade as well. Then again, she was fairly proficient with many weapons. He supposed this was based on familiarity perhaps. They did share a battlefield, and both of them were eager to grow stronger, in the hopes of one day possessing the capability to take that bastard down - or any bastard for that matter. He chuckled softly, drawling his left foot backward, his right sliding a few paces forward.

"In this, we share quite the similarity. My marksmanship as an archer has never been a strong suit of mine. Let's get to it, then. I'm not sure if this is your first time with a sword, but I won't be pulling any punches, got it? Learn on the fly, if you can."

With that, Solomon kicked off with the right foot he moved a few paces forward, propelling himself forward like a bullet loosed from the chamber of a gun. Soaring toward him, he swept his left foot forward towards Lukas leg, executing a overhead strike from the top towards the silver-haired male's shoulder. There was no particular force that would be too disorienting if it landed. He wanted to test his reaction time, test how well he could adapt with a weapon that, if Solomon had to guess, was wholly unfamiliar to someone like him.

THE CITY OF LIGHT
Lukas' gaze narrowed as he moved, slipping into the movements of the man across. Solomon pushed fast - a sweeping leg matched with an overhead as he'd attempt to close the distance. Lukas, in turn, had propelled forward with a stab.

Unfortunately, Lukas was faster.

"Tch." The planting of a heel, rocking off the impact of his toe to push himself sideways. Another step followed off the opposite foot, lowering the tip of his blade to rake upwards, aiming at the pit of Solomon's raised arm. A grazing blow by intent, meant to cut against the man's arm and face, before pulling the blade with a leap backwards.

A low whistle, Lukas making eye contact. The sword raised high with a bent elbow, edge guarding forward as his free hand beckoned Solomon's approach. "Kick's good. Helps gauge distance." His voice only half sincere.

"Overhead too, I like that." The glint of metal as his grip tightened. "Tends to leave you pretty open, though." Lukas followed with a shit eating grin, darting further back if the man responded with action rather than words - a close eye on the crackling reishi of his spirit weapon.

Elemental? Probably don't want to get hit.

Solomon was visibly impressed by Lukas reflexes. Perhaps, he spoke too soon. Lukas seamless movement spoke to years of battle experience. He was no rookie. His overhead strike left him open to a counter, the tip of Lukas blade raking upward to slash at his arm. He sidestepped to avoid a cut to his arm but the follow-up of still led to a grazing blow landing across his cheek. Lukas leaped backward, assuming another position. with his blade. Sword held high with one hand, a free hand beckoning his approach. He was entirely unfazed by the commentary. He was impressed, no matter the tone the silver-haired chose to engage in this battle. Solomon welcomed it wholeheartedly.

"Impressive. A quick learner, I see. Let's see if you can keep that up, then!"

Solomon utilized Hirenkyaku to vanish from one position, quickly vanishing only to appear in close proximity again. He forewent the overhead strike approach, executing a horizontal slash, or so it seemed. The movement of his body was deceptively quick as he slashed towards him, though Solomon pretended that was his aim, feinting the strike only to turn the slash into a thrust towards his shoulder.

If he chose to evade again e, Solomon would quickly shift forward remaining in constant movement, performing a roundhouse kick towards his face. This time, he aimed to pile on the offensive rather than give Lukas the opportunity to remain stationary and set up a stance. He evaded his initial strikes, and Solomon was far from foolish enough to assume a battle-tested veteran like him would fall for just any trick in the book. He had to get creative, even with Lukas perceived inexperience with a sword.

THE CITY OF LIGHT
A half cocked eyebrow, barely acknowledging Solomon's words. They spoke much softer than the man's actions.

Lukas was already moving as he flickered, the feeble constitution of reishi that he attempted underfoot barely lubricant. A shortcoming for the moment, he was prepared for his own failing; no point in trying to use it to evade. The Quincy moved ever forward, his sword arm shifting in position as Solomon feinted. No attempt to read the movement, or the stab that followed. His knee bucked, lowering as his sword raised skywards.

Under. Another thrust, reaching from under Solomon's line of sight, aiming towards his head. The faintest hint of blut ran through Lukas, the veins aside his neck lit red. His shit eating grin was now a grimace, the gathering reishi under his skin almost painful to control. Unlike his previous attack, it had nothing restrained, expecting Solomon to find a way to handle it.

At such close range, the man had no defense against any retaliation, not that he was expecting much. Hard to think with a sword at your throat.

Solomon didn't exactly take Lukas for one who would fall for a feint. He half-expected for the attack to be countered. Therefore, much of his focus was pressed towards avoiding the next counter he might employ. Utilizing his own high-speed movement, Lukas charged in to meet Solomon head-on.

Solomon thrived in close-quarter combat. Countless years of training taught him to never to underestimate his opponent in battle, to always expect the unexpected. He was well aware, from a simple observation of the man's first counter, that Lukas was a veteran of battle who would not be fooled by a feint unless it was truly deceptive enough to work.

That's why he didn't remain in one place after the thrust. He expected a counter, and his prediction would prove correct as Lukas soared in, crouching down to execute another strike towards his head. Solomon quickly utilized Hirenkyaku again in concert with his superhuman speed to evade the crouching thrust by a hair's breadth, sidestepping the strike with precise reflex.

Solomon assumed a middle stance this time, kicking off with his leading foot to strike at the man with a thrust towards his shoulder, if he even remained in his position at all. He figured he would remain on his feet as well,. Thus, the thrust was executed loosely enough, that he could quickly pull the weapon back and defend if he aimed to attack him from underneath again.

THE CITY OF LIGHT
Swish

The blade hit air, Lukas' eyes narrowing as they swiveled. The darting gaze was able to recognize Solomon's hirenyaku yet again, frustration sparking in the back of his head for the lack of personal ability. Restraint might've been more correct. The bright blue light still sang in his memories, grit teeth raging against the thought.

Fuck no. I hurt that thing. Just cause I couldn't handle it then, I'm gonna lose my shit? Lukas' mind shifted back to the present, his crouching launch having landed him with solid footing. Closed his guard up after that overhead. Feint means he's cautious. Exhaling through his nose, he stepped backwards as Solomon took the initiative.

Matching not with positioning or footwork, Lukas opted to flip his blade upwards, the flat of it separating his self from the approaching weapon. A forearm shot forward to bolster behind it, bracing as the impact forced him some distance backwards. Quincy made or otherwise, the sword was shoddy in comparison to any spirit weapon - its immediate attempt to bend apparent as they connected.

Underneath the creak of metal, Lukas' arm flared red. The surge of a heartbeat, pain sparking into anger. A locked door knocking on the inside of his chest, rage long suppressed that needed the smallest spark. His sword hand dropped, forcing the weapon to pull itself across and over Solomon's thrust as it was shoved with the opposite. Pulling backwards himself, his right hand found the handle in a moment, thrusting directly back towards his fellow Quincy's solar plexus. Solomon's blade could manage to reach him in time, if he had senses about him.

From his point of view, Solomon was impressed with Lukas' ability to adapt. He didn't know how long the Todelstagen member had trained with a sword, but he was resourceful enough to face him on equal ground, meeting him counter for counter, and with a man-made sword no less. The thrust to his shoulder had been been blocked off it's natural course, the upward technique proving successful as their blades clashed.

His attempt at his shoulder proved unsuccessful this round. Solomon prepared himself for the next counter, immediately deducing the next technique he might employ. His strike may have forced him backward but Lukas roared back in immediately, thrusting his blade towards his solar plexus. Solomon had kept the grip on his sword loosened in the event that his thrust was countered.

Shifting his body backward with a fierce step against the ground - blue energy crackling along his veins - Solomon barely avoided the thrust, feeling the blade graze against his solar plexus. Gritting his teeth softly, Solomon would step forward this time, with his natural speed and the amplification of offensive blut, crouching towards the ground to perform a thrust towards his midsection.

A swift and precise action, though his grip was much tighter this time. Therefore, if Lukas once again avoided it. Solomon might well be open for a direct attack this time. Each attack had nearly landed on him before. He rarely underestimated his opponents, but Lukas was proving to be quite the sparring partner so far, repeatedly keeping him on his feet.