The Fencing Lesson

((Taken from RP))

Coming downstairs with a most satisfied grin, Ethan brushed against Brit. Though he seemed in a hurry, he stopped at the door and turned holding his hand out toward her. “Brit, come to me.” When she arrived, he buttoned her coat up and gave her three kisses. “We are going to a walk to the beach. Those of whom we do not speak are coming to make a delivery.” Anticipating her next question, he chuckled, “They will bring several things, princess. Cookies, some supplies, a few things for me and…well, you shall see.” Her eyes grew wide at the mystery. Looping her arm in his, they left for the beach.

On the way, they saw a neko who had been a resident at the Shelter. Both were happy that she had not perished. Discovering that she had found a safe permanent home, they continued to the beach. Even in the cloak of night, assorted beings were engaged in drinking, making out, sparring, and simple social networking. Ethan looked over the scene and narrowed his eyes at the many drawn weapons. Turning to Brit, he touched the guns at his side and gestured, “You see, baby, this is why you need weapons at the ready. You never know when you will walk into a scene like this one.” Nodding toward the skiff docked on the end of the pavilion, he grumbled, “Let us continue.”

Nearing the edge of the pavilion floating in the water, Ethan grabbed Brit who was standing on the edge and jumped across to the skiff with one powerful leap. Brit squealed in delight at sailing through the air and collapsed into giggles as they landed. “Do it again, please!” she exclaimed. Her giggles caused a few astonished looks from those piloting the skiff.

Ethan nodded a greeting to each as he whispered, “Maybe, if you are a very good girl, later.” Brit’s giggles quieted as she too gave a nod to each one, but did not wish to interrupt Ethan’s meeting with them. Most of the crew were cloaked. As usual, one stood in front keeping most of his exterior from being seen less for his long, sharp fingernails. The being’s hand extended in a greeting and was shaken by Ethan. “You are dependable as always, old friend,” Ethan said. “Your services are much appreciated.” Quiet conversation continued as Brit dangled over the side hoping to perhaps see a fish even though she knew none ever swam so close to the city.

After Ethan’s conversation ended, the crew handed over two boxes. Ethan gave an envelope to the man in the front, which was as usual. Receiving an envelop in return was not expected, and Ethan gave a troubled look as it was placed into his hand. Tucking it quickly away, Ethan walked to the edge looking to where Brit peered over the side of the boat. To all present, she started with a barrage of questions and comments as she stopped searching for fish. "How far do you go before fish are around? Have you ever seen a fish as big as the boat? In the library, I saw a picture of an octopus...it was swallowing the boat!" Brit’s eyes grew wide with the telling of the picture. Seeing all simply watching her, she went silent. Puffing her cheeks slightly, she looked to the shore and to Ethan wondering when it would be time to get off the boat oblivious to the raised eyebrow that Ethan was given.

Ethan turned toward the crew looking to each one with narrowed eyes. “Did you not hear the lady’s questions?” Picking Brit up, he asked, “How far out before you see fish? How big was the biggest one that you have seen?” Brit did not notice that his eyes continued to grow darker as he asked. Again, to her delight, he leaped across to the floating pavilion and held her waiting for their answers.

The sailor nearest to them turned and answered dutifully, “It takes about two hours of a journey south until fish are seen again. Whales are not uncommon off of these shores; and the biggest was bigger than our boat. No octopus of that size has ever been sighted though.” The sailor turned as if in a trance. Brit listened attentively to the answer and politely thanked the sailor. Turning to Ethan, she grinned to him for the brief jump through the air before looking to the boxes, wondering what was inside, and musing why he did not simply have items brought over on the ferry. Ethan’s thoughts answered that some things could not be easily transported and he did not trust just anyone with other items such as foods that she would consume. Picking up the boxes, Ethan motioned her to follow him back to the Shelter.

Once there, Ethan moved the bigger of the two crates to a place where he had others. Opening it, he carefully checked the contents while she dangled over his shoulder to see. He grinned at her curiosity. “Ethan,” she asked. “Have you….have we other homes?” Her mind wondered from where the items came. “Places maybe where you once lived?” Brit wondered why she had never thought to ask him before.

After checking the contents of the box, Ethan turned pulling her close for a lingering kiss. The kiss deepened for a moment before he remembered that it was his duty to keep her curiosity sated. Breaking the kiss, he replied, “There are several places where I have resided, Brit. Places in Europe where I hold the deeds. Some of them have secured storage facilities or they are accessible to a certain group of few and selected individuals of my kind.” He watched her carefully ensuring she understood. Seeing his duty fulfilled, he pulled her close again brushing his fingers lightly over her skin.

Brit asked, “Maybe…maybe….one day we could visit other places and you could show me where you used to reside?” Ethan’s arms wrapped tighter around her lower waist pulling her to paste against him. Her fingers traced along his sides and looped behind his neck where she touched his unbound hair. Ethan hinted a smile at her growing curiosity about his past. The night before, she had whispered, “I am always curious of you.” Her curiosity without reason warmed him.

“We can do that, baby.” Wrapping his arms around her, he nodded again as if deciding something for both of them. “We should start in a Greece.” His voice sounded distant for a moment as he added, “It would be not far from the place where I was born either.” Ethan’s had rubbed the small of her back gently and he added, “We can do that in the near future. He leaned in for another sensual kiss before letting her breathe once more. There is something that has been troubling me though. Seeing her eyes widen that he might be troubled, he said, “Just recent events. The reasons the two of us have spent so much time in the Shelter, Brit.” His voice trailed off seeming to search for words or a proper way to put it. Ethan all but burst out with, “I am of the opinion that giving you a weapon of proper proportions and style befitting a lady and my beloved would be of interest. And, of course, I would teach you to use it.” He looked down and peeked up almost like a schoolboy admitting to his parents that he broke their prized vase.

Brit’s expression was pure astonishment. “A weapon? Like a REAL weapon?” Her mossy green eyes were huge. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “But…Ethan…what… What if I hurt someone with it? You know…like…hurt…them.” Blinking more, she processed. “Ladies…use weapons?” she asked curiously.

Tilting his head at her last question, he said, “Well, darling. I would think that most of the women you know in this city outside of the library carry them, use them, and quite often harm others with them.”

Brit processed while continuing to dangle from around his neck. One thought flittered to be replaced by another. “Ethan, you never think of most ladies as um ladies.” Since she was now more in tune with his thoughts, she had been rather surprised at his thoughts at times. Some were rather shocking! “Like….Marie Antoinette,” she lisped. Ethan blinked before coughing politely and he wiped his mind of the thought that formed regarding that particular lady. Brit caught the glimpse of the thought and her eyes widened!

Ethan raised an eyebrow and grinned thinking she was obviously getting a better education in seeing what was not said than she would have ever gotten from any book. He replied, “Well, baby. It depends mostly on their manners and ways of behaving. That has nothing to do with the choice of carrying weapons. In fact, at one time, such were combined with their outfits. Like a proper accessory.” He smoothed a tendril of her hair caressing her cheek gently before continuing, “In a large portion of history, it was quite proper, and very ladylike, for young ladies to be educated in the art of fencing. Just as it was for them to be educated in music and making conversation with guests. It kept their bodies trained and their senses alert. Really…much like when we played tag.”

Ethan could see her process and hear her concerns. He reassured her, “Brit, should the need arise and you need to defend yourself, you could buy just enough time for me to arrive or for you to come to me with a few subtle moves. Not actually hurting someone you see. But keeping them distanced from you.” Her recent encounter with the lycan crossed his mind. “Just to buy you time, if needed," he said reassuringly.

It was much for her to process. Brit had always thought of the games they played, like Tag, as simply a fun game of chase. She never thought it would have other purposes. Kissing her on the forehead, he opened a second box and ran his hand along the object inside. Brit lisped, “So…learn like Tag…for exercise?” She nodded slowly to show she understood.

Ethan pulled a long, case from the box. He wiped the packing materials from it and said, “I was thinking of a blade by the way. Small enough to be an epee, which is a fencing blade. Just…well…one of my personal collection.” Ethan opened the case.

“Like a knife?” Brit asked while trying to see inside.

Ethan unsheathed the sword. “Well, not quite a knife.” Brit could see the bright shine of the blade in the amber light of the Shelter hallway. “It is quite elegant, I think, and if used correctly.” The blade obviously held memories for Ethan as he turned the sword looking it over as if seeing an old friend he had not expected to return. “I have had this blade in my possession since the 17th century, Brit.” Ethan continued to carefully examine it while he spoke, “I requested it to be sharpened before having it brought to us.”

The sword was bright and shiny. Details on the pommel included an intricate silver skull. “In the 17th century,” she repeated. “Before Marie Antoinette…like…when Charles the second was king of England.” Ethan smiled seeing that she was beginning to develop a sense of when events occurred. He nodded. “It was yours,” Brit said smiling warmly. Then her smile faded and her eyes grew huge with wonderment, “You did not perish anyone with it, did you?”

Ethan shifted his weight uncomfortably for a moment before giving her a sweet kiss of encouragement. “I do not recall ending anyone’s existence with it, Brit. I do recall using it as a training weapon and in gentleman sports.” With a shrug, he said, “Fencing definitely was considered a noble way of resolving conflict, but often ended at first blood. That means whoever drew blood first from the other wins. Not a fight to the death.” Ethan skipped over that a dagger or other blade was often used for coup de grace moments.

He watched her admire the sword and could sense that she found it beautiful. Ethan’s chest fell as if he exhaled happy that she seemed taken with his gift. “I’m glad that you find it pleasing.” She smiled nodding up at him. “Fencing is a specific way of sword fighting. There are rules of engagement, quite proper, and usually betrayed someone’s noble upbringing. You see, anyone could learn to fence if they had a master to teach them, but noble families always….” Ethan’s eyes grew slightly dark for a hint of a moment. “Noble families always ensured one was available to teach their own.”

Ethan’s hand reached for hers, and he turned her as if in a dance with his free hand so that she faced away, and he guided her back against him. Kissing her hair, he raised her hand and wrapped her fingers around the grip ensuring her hold was proper. Brit gingerly touched the blade with her free hand. It’s razor sharpness caused her to pull away fast, but then she brought her finger to the flat surface and slowly traced down the length of the blade. He repeated that he would teach her all she needed to know. Ethan watched her turn the sword so that the light would catch it causing her to pause as the shine mesmerized her. Perhaps, he thought, she would lose some distractibility by its use and could react faster when needed.

“It’s beautiful. Ethan, thank you.” She kissed him while holding the sword so that the tip was pointed down. Ethan’s arms wrapped so one rested on her tummy and the other on her forearm that held the blade. He could not help but muse that these lessons could bring far more pleasure than any payment from teaching noble brats. When she finished looking over the blade, he readjusted her hand on the grip ensuring that she held the sword perfectly.

Brushing her hair to the side, he said, “At the very least, we shall arrange your hair in a pony tail so that it does not hinder you.” His fingers left her tummy to brush back her tresses. “Mayhaps with some ribbons in it, as well.” He also made a mental note to engage Destany in proper fencing attire for her. Not like the sterile modern day garments, but such as what might be worn in days when fencing was commonly seen. His hand returned to her tummy, and the hand on her sword arm extended to her wrist. Slowly, he adjusted her posture noting that her graceful stand was a natural start. He brought her sword hand slowly to her chin. “First, you would present arms to your opponent in an official match by bringing the hilt to your chin…like this.” He moved his head from side to side ensuring again that the posture was perfect. Grinning, he pressed lips to her ear and said low, “Très bon.” Realizing she would not know what he had said, he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “Very good.”

Brit allowed him to position her. Her body was relaxed and her mind attentive. His mind briefly remembered others he had helped learn this art. Ethan sensed that she feared the weapon, and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Her flesh tingled where he held her, and from his whispered words of encouragement. She moved her feet as he instructed and her stance resembled a ballerina more than a fencing opponent. It was graceful with one foot angled to the other. Brit pressed his body and she moistened her lips. The sword was not heavy to her and she could not help but notice how it shimmered as it moved.

Ethan admired her graceful form and found no need for adjustment. His fingers traced down her body as if to check her alignment and stance. Kissing her neck, he whispered, “A natural talent.” His body moved hers slowly into an ‘en garde’ stance, before moving her back to present and into en garde again ensuring she could follow the motion. His words were low and soft as he guided her from one position to the other, “Fencing, opposed to other forms of melee combat is very much based on benefits of grace in one’s movements: An element of which you possess in abundance.” Her eyes blinked as she moved with the grace of a dancer from upright to a guarded stance. Ethan could not help but think that her hours of dancing in the studio were paying off. She held still for him to inspect her posture. Seeing him nod approval, she laid her head upon his shoulder and looked up kissing him sensually by resting her free hand on his cheek. Returning to proper form, her back was straight with a slight arch that would have clearly demonstrated her lithe form had she not been dressed in her trenchcoat.

Ethan repeated the action, making sure to move slightly more swift with each repetition. As she did when resting her hands on his to play the pipe organ in the church, her mind linked and she followed his movement. His arm guided hers to extend in time with her leg moving forward to balance her body. Ethan murmured, “Extend,” and the tip of the sword touched an imaginary foe as Ethan’s voice instructed softly, “And…touch.” He held the position feeling her body pressed against his. He tightened his hold on her and whispered, “Then, back again” as he pulled her to the starting stance of en garde.

Both stood still for a few moments and were keenly aware of the nearness of the other. Once Brit had processed the sequence, she slowly repeated taking the initiative. He resisted pressing his cheek against her less he mar her fluidity of motion. Watching their image in the window, he followed her motion allowing his body to check her form. In the window’s reflection, they moved together as if she were attached to him in 100 different points. Brit paused at each position allowing for small corrections and waited for his nod to move to the next step. Holding the touch, she felt him press her closer to him. “It’s like dancing.” He nodded running his hand over her side under the guise of checking her stance.

Moving again against her, Ethan motioned for her to continue. “It is indeed like dancing,” he said moving with her as she moved through the basic positions. “Present. En garde, lunge, thrust, touch, and back to engarde.” His voice whispered softly as they cycled through again. Another cycle in silence. “Deadly dancing sometimes, but still requiring grace and elegance, which you possess.” His hands continued to touch her lightly as they moved through the sequence. At each point, Ethan was keenly aware of Brit’s body and corrected even the slightest of errors in her form. “It will also keep you fit,” his voice continued to softly instruct. “In time, it will keep you safe. I hope…you will not be disturbed by it, Brit.”

Lowering the sword, she turned slightly and tilted her head. “It’s a wonderful gift, Ethan. Thank you.” Her smile was warm and her care in the way she held the sword showed she understood it was a precious gift. He kissed her. Closing her eyes, she processed all he had taught and said. “Ethan,” she whispered with a hint of apprehension. “I never wish to perish anyone.”

Returning the kiss, he said, “You are most welcome. I do enjoy giving you things from my past. For there is history in them. They are not merely objects.” Caressing her face before cupping her cheek, he tilted her lips up and caught her gaze. “You are my one and only, and I want you protected. I understand you would not willingly try to take a life, but as I said…” Seeing her eyes widen, he stopped to watch her. With a reassuring smile, Ethan kissed Brit again. “But as I said, this is mostly for exercise.” She nodded and he grinned kissing softly. “You did well on your first hint of a lesson, my love.”

“No one perishes from exercise,” she said more for herself than for him. Ethan remembered a countess who perished in a fencing lesson due to a corset, indulgence of alcohol and sweets, and intense summer heat. Brushing the thought away, he said, “Quite so. And, if the need for you to run arises…such as if someone were blocking your path, I am sure that we shall find a way to teach you just where to swing this blade so to give them a little ache….surely not perishing them.” He kissed her again with his eyes flashing for a moment thinking of such a situation. “Do not worry, Brit. I am not trying to turn you into a body guard. You have me for that.”

Brit nodded understanding that she would not perish another with her new gift. Turning, she took both of his hands pulling him along to the resting place where she could place the sword in the chest with her more treasured belongings. He stroked her hair while she arranged for the sword to be organized as if it was always meant to be there. Standing, she pressed close and kissed him with all of the love she felt within. Ethan returned it knowing that should she need to get away, the culprit would pray for coup de grace in the end.