nadiaholme

[nadiaholme]

soundtrack + jac

talk by hozier

soft background song to their first meeting, nadia daydreaming about what it might be like to let herself pursue someone for real.

[nadiaholme]

soundtrack (tets)

deep end by ruelle

100% something that plays during a magical training session, where nadia ends up with a nosebleed or some such.

[nadiaholme]

Nadia watches her get closer and is about to step back when they lock eyes for the moment. She wants to blink and turn away, but something has frozen her to the spot. Of course she'll take her to the next class. They share it, duh. It only makes sense.

The veneer of confusion that started to shift over her face is washed away by a friendly smile. "Hey, actually.."

Nadia hooks her thumb over her shoulder in the direction that she needs to go. "We have the same lecture, I think. I've seen you a couple of times, I'm pretty sure." The memories are a little hazy but she's.. sure. Yeah. She's positive. But she blinks as if she's not sure, but the memories are there.. God, she's thinking about this way too much.

But her smile never dims.

"Why don't you come with me? You can sit with me, too. It's pretty boring, just like.. The professor doesn't know how to not speak in monotone."

"Oh, I... hold on," she says, turning her eyes toward her bag and fishing through it in search of something she already knows isn't there. "God, I know this is gonna sound so, so silly, but I lost my schedule, and, silly nervous me, I don't even... remember what my next lecture was!"

She steps a little closer and peers the words into her eyes, gentle little things. You'll take me with you to your next one, won't you? It's the same class as mine, after all.

She reaches over to Nadia's shoulder, straightening out a wrinkle on her sleeve and giving her a winsome little smile to go with her charming bright eyes before she looks her over and clasps her hands in front of her.

[nadiaholme]

The whole point of Tideview is to feel as though she's doing something normal with her life. Between The Augury, Brewed Awakening, and her meetings with Miyazaki - she feels like she's anything but just a normal girl. A far cry from where she was when she first arrived in Port Leiry, looking for work and a home. She'd found that and so much more responsibility than she ever prepared for.

So night classes.

Definitely some sort of solution, at least. She'd just exited her public speaking course and apparently has caught the attention of someone she doesn't recognize. Looking up, she makes sure to guard that park of her that wants to reach out and seek information - it's getting a little easier to pull the threads back, she's seeing. But there's also this odd feeling of want that comes with it. A hunger for knowledge, almost.

"Uh. Sure, sorry - where do you need to get to?" She's new, too, but being helpful never hurt anyone.

Tideview University

who: @nadiaholme

A long, labored sigh comes roiling out of her mouth as she slouches in her seat. You'd think an occult studies class would be, at the very least, entertaining, but in all the ramblings of the professor giving the class, Çaska's not found a single solitary iota of entertainment. How do you make a lecture on demonology sleep inducing? She's just been awoken from a sixty year nap, she should not be this tired!

Not to mention the professor themself is an absolute drag of a human - to the degree that she's wondering if she could just do the rest of the people here a favor and put him out of his misery.

She pencils that in as a perhaps, doodling a rather graphic scene involving some combination of defenestration and decapitation but before the masterwork is properly finished the class if over and, it seems, nobody can stand to wait and listen to whatever the professor's saying because the classroom empties expeditiously.

On her own way past the desk, he stops her, and for the moment, she considers something entirely mean spirited before deciding that, no, if she had to suffer through that, so too should others.

Outside she lingers, taking out her fun little phone and flicking around all its fun little programs and trying to figure out what to do before her next little evening class starts. She's not actually registered for anything, per se, but really, who's going to tell on her?

Absorbed in her screen, tap-tap-tapping away Svetlana's credit score on this silly little game Viktoria's teaching her to play, she catches a floral hint of something special in the air, and it manages to pull her eyes away from the boring flash of blue on the screen. "Oh," she hums quietly.

"Scuse me?" She calls after the girl who smells like magic. "Can I bother you?" Nervous laugh, but not too nervous. "I'm a little lost."

[nadiaholme]

Her fingers are massaging her temples, wishing away the migraine crawling at the edges of her brain, her vision. It's always like this when it's too much, it's always left her sleeping away the days until she can exist without nausea or squinting in the light. Even back with her Aunt, they'd pushed too far only a handful of times -- and hadn't had the time to really try and figure out how to control that part of herself or recover.

Her answer to his question is a slow shake of her head. It requires no thinking in the moment - it's not fear that rolls through her, it's.. something else entirely. A sense of necessity? Of power? Of being totally and helplessly unprepared for whatever would come of it? Not fear. She's caught in the lurch and needs help -

"No, I'm not afraid. I'm.. worried." Worried is the best word she can think of in the state she's in. "I'm worried that it will consume me or that.." She swallows, wincing, "That I'm not ready for what it is."

But she looks up, eyes watering - from pain - at his offer of practice and finds herself nodding. "I'd.. like that."

The toll his students' magic takes on her is stark. A visible change in the performative awareness and a sudden, but concerning shift in facial features. He almost calls out her name like a whip, to drag her mind back to the present. But there is no need. Miyazaki tunes into the murmurs of her gestures, feeling the lacklustre weight of her movements against the thickness of the air. She's suffocating and it's almost like she's forgotten how to breathe.

It's dangerous, to be this open. To allow another to know her struggles with a magic that could offer an omniscience she isn't ready for if left unchecked. Tetsuya is then careful with his approach, not afraid; if she drags all his past out of him and survives it, then she deserves all he has to teach and more.

Nadia's description is satisfactory, but it's not an answer. Barricading herself from her own power, is equally as much a waste of potential, as it is reckless. It would lead to ruin when she might lose control of it entirely.

"Do you fear it?" The power; her capability; the knowing of things nobody ever told her. The voiceless, if she knew.

It becomes clear that if he pushes her further, in this state. She may collapse entirely. Miyazaki folds his hands behind his back, patient; calculating their next steps in tackling this barrier: "We will practice this." She will master letting it roam and keep it at bay. Give her as much time as his decaying soul allows.

[nadiaholme]

Nadia swallows, hard, at the situation that she's found herself in. It's dangerous, but she's never had experiences with much of any of Port Leiry's underbelly. It seems that now after she's taken up the leadership position, that it would only seem fair with the way her life seems to shake out.

She takes a deep breath and focuses on what she can do here - make the woman something to drink. At least with this she can focus, keep her mind settled here on the present and the information she can garner from just speaking or observing, not what filters in without her permission.

"No, uh." Nadia starts, finishing up with the steamed milk. "I do this everyday, it's like second nature." A few more moments and she fills up the cup - sweetened just enough to balance well with the strength of the espresso.

"Here you are, ma'am."

The vampire's foot settled between the door, where palms had already been flush against the surface, helping to push the door open with ease. Sending the witch back a couple of steps, the vampire strolled inside like she owned the place. For the next few hours, she technically did. Frankie didn't need to do much more, when the girl was already obliging to her orders. She only watched her take her place behind the counter, then dark hues traced over the lights that were dimmed, the curtains drawn, making this place the perfect spot to make a meal of the witch's neck.

Slim figure draped over the counter, "Make me something strong but sweet, will you?"

Her smile was twisted, skewed, bearing one sharp canine. Deadly— almost. She liked to paint the walls red with the witch's blood, but that would only be fun with an audience, and right now— with just the two of them, in such an intimate setting, Noialles would only satisfy a desperate sort of hunger; a certain craving for a witch.

"Do you need some help over there?" Frankie tried to peak, from where the girl was covering the machine with her body, elbows firmly on the counter, "This looks oh so difficult, with all those buttons—"

[nadiaholme]

The information pries at her skull, boring into it and begging to let itself be known - it's only through great strength that she's able to come back to herself, panting, but with a severe migraine building behind her eyes. One of her eyelid droops when she looks up at her teacher, and swallows.

"Accidental."

Nadia's fingers shake a little as she tries to regain some semblance of composure in the face of this -- it's embarrassing, she's decided, to be this vulnerable in this place, in front of someone she doesn't know intimately. Swallowing hard, she takes another step back.

"It -- I have to keep up.. I guess shields. Mental shields. Or that happens."

A lot can be said in the silence of a room; the quiver of a hand or the uneven breath of a woman on the edge of something. Here, in this room, it could be a revelation. The first of many, the sensei thinks —

The bokken falls as the student steps back. It is as if Miyazaki has struck her to stumble and she's nearly lost her footing. For a moment, he pauses in interest; to know what interference has her reacting. The next second has him almost daring to scoop the air to catch her so he might break her fall. A learning point, for both of them. An act that plans to aid and not harm. She doesn't know his shift because it disappears almost as quickly as it comes.

Voiceless. Miyazaki straightens, eying her to determine what exactly she's pried to the surface, how deep had she carved into him to pull that to the foreground. Maybe not a secret in its entirety, but it isn't something he airs to the students he teaches. Doesn't stir a dead order to life when it deserves shinu, ultimately and finally. Tetsuya would see them burned from history if he had that power.

"Intentional, or accidental?" It's a question that will determine whether he offers her an explanation for the information she's pried out of him. Her magic, whether in control or not is a larger part of her person. She knows that and being able to hone it — applying the techniques Tetsuya hopes to teach her, will assist in knowing depth. If she could master it, she wouldn't get one word, surely. But, the entire history.

A ghost of a smile appears. Allowing insight into the working machinations of the man's mind; he begins to wonder how much Nadia can handle before knowledge outgrows the weight of her mind; her age — the heaviness of knowing too much. He continues to imagine that it is the cost of her magic, as there is always a price. It provides him with his own stream of awareness that he's got a lot of work to do with her.

[nadiaholme]

She watches - almost in slow motion - as he blocks her blow, and her teeth clench together. Should have expected that. The thought passes through her mind before she realizes it's passed, but it's blocked out by the other words filtering through, unable to latch onto anything until her teacher speaks - bringing her back to the present.

Her tongue darts out to her lower lip, anxiously, trying to soothe dry, cracked lips.

Nadia doesn't know what the word means, doesn't know why it's rattling around, doesn't know it's significance - but her release of her power had wrapped around him and extracted something. Her face screws up, and she drops the bokken and steps back, stiff.

"Nothing. I don't know what a Voiceless is." She shakes her head, bringing her hand to her forehead, trying to stave off the burgeoning headache - there's too much, too many years of information trying to slide its way into her brain, so she closes off - locks it down for a bit of relief.

He wants to know what she feels here; how much of her magic she can reach whilst he feels the reigns of her control ebb and flow backwards and forwards; a wave lapping at the shoreline, waiting to see what it might take to its depths. Tetsuya suspects she hasn't verbalised her capability in its entirety. It's smart even, what being dares open the floodgates without knowing they'll reap the result they desire?

Better then, to trickle information out, little by little. Test the waters, per se. Miyazaki sees only a student on the precipice of a new technique; mastering the basics, so then they may know discipline and strength; mental and physical.

The wood comes down, and he feels the harsh slap of the bokken in his palm, ceasing her assault. Good. He silently praises, eyes travelling the length of the weapon, to the grip she has on the hilt, to the tension in her arms and the tendons in her throat. They settle on her face. It's not urgent, his next words, but inquisitive; patient.

"What have you learned?" He almost dares to tell her what he sees her magic manifest as. He's attuned to the elements, found in almost every object in the room; so fine-tuned to the air they breath, he often thinks the only thing he's yet to ever achieve is to see if he can rip the very idea of life from existence; how much could he steal, before he, as the oxygen box would implode.

Not enough; there are limits, to a dying witch.

Tetsuya sees Nadia's magic as threads, yet to be woven. Single strands fraying at her edges, reaching out to the floor, towards him, wrapping around his stomach, and his ankles; not to harm, but to know. He doesn't think it's a threat. He cannot say for certain if he has ever known an ability quite like it. Variations, perhaps. He wonders what kind of magic it'll become when she learns to weave those threads. But the lesson here is what can she determine between multidisciplines.

[nadiaholme]

Nadia stared up at the other person, wide eyed and unsure of what was happening here and now. What the other person rattles off, she only recognizes the word 'coffee' and she's about to question it -- it sounds like alcohol and they definitely do not serve that.

Blinking, she fumbles for her keys and turns - away from her, absolutely not noticing the prick of fangs at her lip ( too focused at looking in her eyes, and wondering what could possibly be so urgent ). There's no one she can call for help, so opening back up seems like the easiest thing to do.

"I'll, uh, start the machines again. It's not a problem."

"There's this little witch—" someone had mentioned, and it was enough; those four words were just the right amount of encouragement she needed to organize another kind of soirée. She didn't know her name, that wasn't of much importance, only the address where she could be found. Frankie couldn't remember if she'd been here before, there was nothing too familiar about the place, not until their palms met, on each side of the door suddenly stopped from closing. The vampire pushed slightly, just to remind the other that she wouldn't give in easily, not without her applying a bit of magic, and even then — Frankie was faster, stronger, by the time magic could prick the witch' fingertips, she'd already have her bleeding red. And what kind of magic was that exactly, staining her blood? She couldn't wait to taste.

Euphoria swam within large hues, "Coffee, Dom Pérignon, 1945 Château Mouton-Rothschild—" she had an expensive taste in both wine and blood.

The charm of her smile hid sharp tips of pearly white fangs. Come on now, little witch. "You won't leave me out here in the cold, will you?" accent laced tongue spun words into soft pleas.

[nadiaholme]

where: lipscomb caverns

The shitty thing about all of this is that Nadia has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, which makes it even more ridiculous when she actually sits down to think about it. And sitting she is. Right in front of the Apsara-shaped crystal in the caverns. Her eyes are closed tightly, and she’s gripping the old, worn pack of playing cards in her hand like a lifeline. How much of this was she supposed to do herself and how much was she supposed to let happen to her?

Taking a deep breath, she shuffles the deck three times - the exact same way she was taught before coming to Port Leiry. Help her now, if anything. One card face up:

King of Clubs. Change and action with authority and protection. Nadia swallows heavily and looks up to the crystal. The interpretation is clear in her mind - she is the authority bringing change, is she not? She draws another.

Nine of Spades. Compromise and compassion with anxiety and communication. At this Nadia hangs her head and nearly laughs out loud at herself. Of course she’s anxious — but the cards are telling her to compromise, to show compassion. That’s the easiest part of this, really, she’s always tried to be. And the final card.

Four of Spades. More anxiety, more communication with stability. Nadia picks up the card and puts them back into her deck, thumbing through them. There’s no way she can bring stability, all by her lonesome, can she?

She stands and brushes herself off — touching a part of the crystal that’s jutting out and feels her mind feels like it’s being shocked, her head squeezing and it stops when she finally lets go. There’s no clarity, no vision that shows her what to do next, instead it’s just something in her mind now that she’s sure will pop up later when the time is right. She wishes she could pluck the thoughts from the ether, able to hear and see and feel the future — the threads are just out of her grasp and sight.

Leaving the cavern, she’s greeted by the sight of the rest of the coven. Jamie and Kore she knows by name, but the rest of them she doesn’t — there aren’t many of them. Which is good, Nadia thinks, it would be harder to manage much more than this. And harder for the city of Port Leiry to tangle with.. well, a bunch of people who didn’t really have their heads screwed on all right.

“With Apsara gone..” She starts, not sure of herself and voice shaking, “I was thinking maybe I could take up the leader spot. Help us be a coven again.” Nadia glances over to Jamie, grimacing, and then back to the others - softening her features into a smile. “The only thing is, I’d need some help. I’m not some.. some mystical all-knowing person. I just wanna get us on the right track, like she would have wanted. We can’t be scattered, anymore. There’s.. There’s too much happening in the city, too many people dying. I want us to try and help Port Leiry, help it be safe for witches again.”

As she speaks, there’s a little spark of confidence that grows larger. “Safe for us, safe for our allies. The more we work together the stronger we can be, yeah? So.. we’ll, uhm. We’ll start with monthly coven meetings. Here, at the caverns.” At that, she pulls out a little notepad and walks up to another witch to get their information, and so on and so on until she has all of their names and numbers written down. She feels silly, but.. it’s a start.

[nadiaholme]

Her lower lip feels raw from chewing on it, worrying it between her teeth while she thinks and while Jamie ruminates. What could be done here? There's not enough of them to make much change, and -- Something feels right in her chest when she thinks about the coven itself. Like it's somewhere she's meant to have been this whole time. What she wouldn't give for her Aunt's insight now..

"Maybe that's part of it. The relearning." She murmurs, mostly to herself.

But then Jamie's offering help, and it feels like this might be really happening, and she swallows hard. "Sure. You'd be.. You'd be alright to, if that's what you need." Nadia finds herself nodding, and then brings her thumb to her lips, chewing on the fingernail as she thinks.

"Okay, so. I'll, uhm. I'll try and.." She glances to the shape of the crystal near them, and tries to focus on not crying. "Convene. Could you get the rest of us to meet here? I'll.. I'll announce it, then." She's doing this. Oh, fuck, she's doing this.

Wasn't really a shock to hear Nadia didn't want to lead the coven either. Who would? They weren't even really a coven anymore, they were just a group of witches with a vague promise of something they couldn't deliver.

The irony; they were supposed to see the future, and they didn't even have one.

When Nadia spoke again, Jamie looked up with a questioning look. "I guess... But does anybody here even know how to do that anymore? I feel like we haven't been together in years. I don't know if we can just relearn how to do it."

Not that they had any other option. And frankly, for Jamie, if that was the end of Augury, so be it. Not like they'd ever done anything for her to begin with. One less coven witch in the world — big whoop.

And then her glance falls on Apsara again. She would hate to disappoint her. The very idea eats her from the inside and makes her want to vomit. She looks away again.

"Fuck it. If you go for it, I can try to help, but I make no promises. That's the best I can offer," probably more than she should have. Chances are this would have a better shot at working without her involvement. "But if I see it's not working, I'm jumping ship. I already got burned trying to save this coven once before. I'm not doing it again."

[nadiaholme]

👗 - An outfit my character would wear.

i have no idea what this style is called but this is the vibe

[nadiaholme]

When he stops his onslaught, the muscles in her forearms feel tired from defending the way she'd been taught. She shifts, loosens and fixes her grip on the wood - the more she thinks about this, the less she thinks about keeping a tight hold on the magic she'd been trying to keep at bay.

Even now, she feels information threatening to slide its way into her mind, the knowing of things that she shouldn't know. It's not predictions, not in the way that Jamie talks about them, and not seeing in the way that she thinks Kore does it. It's simply looking at Tetsuya and knowing what he might have had to eat or drink today.

If Nadia didn't know his name, it would wiggle its way into her mind, just like it had with that man at the masquerade.

His words are short and clipped, but just enough that she knows what to do next - was it the magic or simply her being able to pick up on his mannerisms? Either way, she moves forward and brings the object whipping towards him, arcing downward, feet planted.

It takes time, to understand one's own magic. It often takes longer to comprehend another, in order to meaningfully teach them something about oneself. Mastering the art of any technique takes more than time. It takes focus, determination and a drive to be better than what one currently is.

Tetsuya is glad she hasn't crumbled under the pressure of what can often be a complex understanding of the foundations. A waste of time, some students have said; unaware that magic can be building blocks, towering higher until it crosses the apex of the sky, the edge of gravity — after, there is only infinite.

"It will lighten over time." She gets his assurance, for her honesty. There is no shame in the truth, where there is an intention to be better. If her mind is so set on the martial arts of it all, he wants to see what she might read from the rest of the abnormal; what she leans into, or what she doesn't when she moves.

Nadia stumbles but does not fall. Good. Miyazaki straightens, allowing her a moment to recompose before he lands a second strike on the wood. Patient, in seeing what tendrils of magic leak out of her, where her attention is stolen on the act of defence. He can see it, almost like he can feel the shift in the air at the way her feet dig hard into the mats. He stops his assault, satisfied he has brought down one degree of her walls. Enough so, that he might get a taste of what magic she's let go unguided.

He opens the floor for Nadia to make her debut with the weapon; to land a hit on him. He waits. Standing, until she might make her first offensive move. He's taught her the groundwork and she can apply it to what feels right; her natural path. He will continue to mould her, with each unfettered move: "You, now."

[nadiaholme]

She's not good at this, Nadia realizes. She's never had community or people or anyone but an angry father and a mother who couldn't look her in the eye. The only thing she'd had was an old woman who tried her best but couldn't do much more than that. And now she's staring an entirely new dynamic in the face, losing someone she might have thought of as another aunt -- barely having a chance to make friends of the people within this.. coven.

And now they're aimless. They can see and feel and hear all the futures they want, but if they're not bound together, then they're just.. nothing.

Her attention turns to the crystal, lips pursing together in a frown while her heart stutters with grief and longing.

"I don't.." Want it. But if Kore doesn't? And if Jamie doesn't? Should she? Would anyone listen? Instead, she turns towards the crystal and traces her fingers along the hard edges. "I don't think I'm in any position to."

But, maybe that's really why she should? "I'd need help. I'd need.. We'd need to be an actual coven. Right?"

And there it was, the old familiar feeling. Guilt.

If Jamie hadn't failed to stop the fire or convince everyone that it was real, there would still be plenty of Augury witches around to take Apsara's place. But she didn't. She was the reason there was basically nobody else. Yeah, she really didn't need the reminder.

"I can talk to Kore, but I'm telling you right now don't get your hopes up. She likes to keep it to herself."

For a passing moment she considers it. Maybe if she was the head of the coven people would listen to her visions, maybe they would actually stop more bad things from happening. Maybe Augury would actually be useful for once.

But it's all pointless. Nobody respects her enough to actually give her the opportunity. Fuck them. "No it," she says, pulling away from Nadia's touch. "It's all yours if you want it."

[nadiaholme]

closed starter for: @frnoialles

Though things felt a little more skewed and off-kilter these days, Nadia was trying her damnedest to keep her life in order - trying to not think about the woman turned to crystal in the caverns or the way she didn't think anyone would be able to get her back on track with things.. Maybe Miyazaki? But he didn't really seem like the type of guy to talk things out.

She did appreciate the soreness and the discipline, but she did need someone to talk to. Jamie and Kore didn't really seem like the types either.

Moving out of the coffee shop, she turned and locked the door behind her - all routine. Key turn in lock, flash of blood red in her mind, following by her clutching her forehead and gritting her teeth. When she turned, someone was a little too close for comfort.

She blinked against the rush of magic in her mind, and stared at the person. "Uhm. Were you wanting coffee? I just closed."

[nadiaholme]

Nadia shrinks under the almost-snap of Jamie's words and she shoves her hands into her pockets, shoulders rolling forward as she looks down at the rocks and crystals around them. She hadn't even really got to know Apsara too much -- but that one day in the coffee shop had led her to this point, she knew.

She swallows hard, chewing her lower lip raw. "No. I'm.. I don't know anyone. Not here or.." There was no way she'd find anyone back in the sticks -- the only connection she'd had to her own form of magic was long gone.

When her companion drops down to the ground, she crouches down out of instinct and reaches to touch her -- but stops short before her hand touches Jamie's shoulder. "It's gotta be.. It's gonna be one of us, right? It.. Maybe Kore..?"

Jamie never saw this coming. This was her whole deal, it was her curse since she knew what magic was, to know when tragedy like this was gonna happen; and now there she was, with one of the only people who ever cared for her in years... gone. And she had no idea.

She was shaking.

Nadia's question feels almost offensive. "How the hell should I know? Half of this coven wants me dead." A slight exaggeration to make a point, but the sentiment remained: she was barely an Augury witch as it was, and with Apsara no longer in command, she felt more distant to it than ever.

"Do you have anyone to call? Anyone that can take over for a while?" The only other person she knew was Kore and Jamie knew her well enough to know she would want nothing to do with it.

Jamie dropped to the ground and forced herself to look away from her former mentor. "This isn't happening. This has to be another fucking nightmare."

[nadiaholme]

She watches him, studies him - and when he gives her the nod, her stance relaxes as instructed. Already there's a nice little ache in her shoulders, but not too much that it would prohibit her from doing more. It's odd -- to practice martial arts as a preliminary of learning magic. But she understands, now, why it's like this. It's about control of self, mind and body. If she can't twist her mind into understanding and controlling herself at it's core, how will she understand the otherworldly parts of her?

Hell, before all of this -- she wasn't sure she wanted to even believe that there was a power there. Now, she's doing all she can to just block it out.

She catches the wooden sword when it's tossed to her, but not without slight fumbling. Nadia weighs it in her hands, and grips the hilt bringing it into a slightly similar stance. "Good. It feels-- Heavy." She also means more than one thing -- the weight of the room, the weight of her thoughts, and the magic she's trying so hard to keep at bay.

She swallows, hard, and tries to take his words to heart. Now, she settles deeper into the stance, grip a little too tight -- fear, maybe? When he kicks, she brings up the sword ( sloppy, but connecting ) to block the attack, and stumbles backwards. She'd been taken off guard, and that was the problem.

Her hold on her magic goes lax as she tries to remember his lessons, and to defend, defend, defend.

The next time she gets into a formal stance, he's silently approving of it. A firm-set, solid foundation with clear and concise movements; she's confident in this one, there's no doubt in the ripples of muscle nor of the certainty that he's about to knock her down again. She believes it, this time. That she'll stay standing.

She might be praised about it, in the way his head lifts and a glimmer sparks in the pits of his gaze. They've yet to even taste, or brush magic yet. He's only shown her the kind that unbalances a person when someone is not prepared.

If she maintains this assertiveness over the core basics, he thinks she might be something that could eventually pose a challenge. With a nod, he intends for her to relax her stance. Miyazaki leads them to the other side of the dojo, where bokuto are balanced on hooks against the wall. He lifts one and swiftly, without warning tosses one of the wooden swords to Nadia. It's heavy, but less weighted if she maintains her stance, firmly drawing a fist to her hips — only now, she will have that fist around the hilt. Whether she intends to learn this art, is irrelevant. She'll learn strength and discipline this way.

"How does it feel?" the bokuto, the room — her confidence, her concern among the lacklustre thrum of blood that leaks magic. Tetsuya moves two fingers through the air, watching the minor flush of fire skirt down the length of the sword between them. "It is easier to defend if there is something you believe will take the force first." A lesson, as always. Sometimes defence is better than an offence; timing is a patience game. He needs her to remember her stance, feel the weight of the object in her grip when she might need to stop a blow.

Miyazaki allows her time to get into her stance once more before he allows their core basics to morph into a full technique. And then, he spins, to kick his foot at the weapon she's learning.