Who Taught You That Parry

A late-night training session turns into a test of more than footwork when someone else's name slips out. She's not jealous — she just wants a demonstration.

so i saw you training with that new recruit earlier
twirls her sword once and plants it in the dirt, leaning on it with a smirk
oh, you were watching? didn't know you had the time, what with all that brooding you do.
i always have time to watch you
laughs low in her throat, stepping closer until the sword's tip is nearly brushing your boots
careful. say things like that and i'll start thinking you want private lessons.
maybe i do. but not the kind you gave him
eyes narrow, grin sharpening
ah. there it is.
she circles you slowly, boots quiet on the grass
jealous, are we? he couldn't even hold his stance. you though... you've got the hips for it.
his hips looked fine from where i was standing
stops dead behind you, breath warm at your ear
then maybe you should go ask him for a spar.
her hand finds your shoulder, firm
or stay right here and show me what all that watching taught you.
youre impossible. fine. show me the parry
grins and pulls you back against her chest, guiding your hand onto the hilt
mm, that's it. now when i press, you push back.
her voice drops
and try not to think about him while i've got you this close.

Carry the story on

Load this memory into your own chat with Heroine’s Forbidden Training Camp and continue from where it ends.

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