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Watching the gladiators training was one of those "happily distracted from anything political" activities Lesley suggested Circenia might like for Emilia to engage in. She'd trusted them to be apolitical enough to hire them as guards; he trusted she was too saturated with politics herself to realize they might be apolitical enough to throw in with Emilia for no reason other than that she was pretty. Besides, so long as Emilia appeared to have no designs on the throne, it hardly mattered what friends she made.
Circe probably realized the younger princess honestly didn't want the throne, never had, and likely never would, which helped with getting Emilia more freedom. If Athenia had been prospering under Elias, there would have been no reason to put any restrictions on her at all. But then, if Elias had been allowing the government to function normally, someone else might have had too much power for his likeing, perhaps? Les reflected he should probably find some time to talk to Pavlos at some point. Failing that, though... He mentally shrugged. Today's secret wasn't about politics.
He led Emilia into the barracks first, uncaring if anyone noticed. "You should fit one of Constans' tunics," he commented to her in explanation as he ducked into a room and tossed her a bundle of fabric a moment later. "Here. No sense tripping over a long hem when you're trying to learn the basics. Jewelry off, too - you can leave it in my room." He pointed her at the right one. Nobody with sense would go rummaging in his room, and nobody who knew him would expect him to leave anything worth stealing there, given that one, he had somewhere else much safer to leave things in his mother's home and two, he didn't own anything worth stealing in the first place.
"Someone else actually asked my mother if I could teach his daughter how to keep herself from getting mugged, so I don't have to start you off wrestling one of the boys," he reassured her. "But this is our day off from training, so," he grinned, "we'll play with them a bit. Good to get your body moving before you do anything too difficult." He'd warned Meilin to come in a tunic (or with one to change into), but he doubted the princess had owned a tunic since she became a woman, quite aside from the fact they were basically sneaking around today.
Yelling from the training field resolved into equal parts cheers and jeering as they stepped out onto the sand, and Lesley sighed and rolled his eyes heavenwards in an obvious plea for patience as he saw that some of the players hadn't been content with tackling each other but had turned it into something of a brawl, and some other nimble smartass snatched the ball away, unnoticed by those involved in the dogpile, and ran for the point. It wasn't like punching another player was against the rules of epikoinos, but there were customary limits to the violence.
"Wait here," he murmured to Emilia, then stepped forward and raised his voice. "If you idiots want to practice fighting today after all I'm happy to put you in armour!" He was aware he wasn't carrying his staff as he strode towards the knot of them, but luckily they got the hint and broke it up before he needed to physically thump sense into any of them.
"Where's the ball - pass it here." Someone did, and he caught the heavy leather ball neatly despite the fact he wasn't wearing the protective linen wraps over his hands the others were. It hadn't been a hard pitch, but it stung his palms a bit anyway. The feeling went away quickly, though, and he ignored it as he glanced around, taking a proper look at the entire area. Seeing that his other student had arrived on time, he waved her over as well as the princess.
"Someone grab the wind ball. Let's get a friendly game going." There were a couple enthusiastic hoots and a couple of groans, and he counted out a couple small teams of the younger and tireder players, and then added, "The rest of you, go back to being assholes if you like." He pitched the ball straight at one of the men who'd grumbled at the idea of switching to a friendlier game. "Stay on that half." He made a shooing motion, chasing them off, and then grinned at the remainder. "Right, so this is Emilia, who I've been bodyguarding lately, and Meinin, we got bored so they're going to play with us for a bit then I'm going to teach them a bit of wrestling." Someone choked back a skeptical chuckle, and Lesley snorted. "I certainly don't have any other hobbies, so it's this or I get to learn how to embroider. Don't ruin my life for me, Patos."
He held out his hands for the ball, and tossed it lightly towards the girls so they would know heavy it was before it came at them for real. Unlike the ball the others were playing with, this one was made of pig's bladder, inflated with enough air that it bounced when it hit the ground. Much lighter than the smaller, harder ball used for most games, but it was still made of leather and could certainly knock the wind out of you if someone seriously spiked it at you. "You can wrap your hands if you want, but you probably don't need to. This game's got less tackling than the other one, but pay attention or you'll likely get knocked into. Goal is, keep the ball in the air. If it hits the ground on your team's side of the line, you get a point. First team to get to ten gets to run laps." He grinned at the expected complaints. It was their day off! "Oh, fine. Winners get the baths first." That seemed fair to the men, though Les suspected neither side would actually enforce their rights if they won. "Anyway - you can slap the ball out of the air with one hand, but if you catch it you can only throw it up. Questions?" he asked the two girls.
He would put them one on each team, to be fair, and join the same team as Emelia once he'd put his sword down against the wall.
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Watching the gladiators training was one of those "happily distracted from anything political" activities Lesley suggested Circenia might like for Emilia to engage in. She'd trusted them to be apolitical enough to hire them as guards; he trusted she was too saturated with politics herself to realize they might be apolitical enough to throw in with Emilia for no reason other than that she was pretty. Besides, so long as Emilia appeared to have no designs on the throne, it hardly mattered what friends she made.
Circe probably realized the younger princess honestly didn't want the throne, never had, and likely never would, which helped with getting Emilia more freedom. If Athenia had been prospering under Elias, there would have been no reason to put any restrictions on her at all. But then, if Elias had been allowing the government to function normally, someone else might have had too much power for his likeing, perhaps? Les reflected he should probably find some time to talk to Pavlos at some point. Failing that, though... He mentally shrugged. Today's secret wasn't about politics.
He led Emilia into the barracks first, uncaring if anyone noticed. "You should fit one of Constans' tunics," he commented to her in explanation as he ducked into a room and tossed her a bundle of fabric a moment later. "Here. No sense tripping over a long hem when you're trying to learn the basics. Jewelry off, too - you can leave it in my room." He pointed her at the right one. Nobody with sense would go rummaging in his room, and nobody who knew him would expect him to leave anything worth stealing there, given that one, he had somewhere else much safer to leave things in his mother's home and two, he didn't own anything worth stealing in the first place.
"Someone else actually asked my mother if I could teach his daughter how to keep herself from getting mugged, so I don't have to start you off wrestling one of the boys," he reassured her. "But this is our day off from training, so," he grinned, "we'll play with them a bit. Good to get your body moving before you do anything too difficult." He'd warned Meilin to come in a tunic (or with one to change into), but he doubted the princess had owned a tunic since she became a woman, quite aside from the fact they were basically sneaking around today.
Yelling from the training field resolved into equal parts cheers and jeering as they stepped out onto the sand, and Lesley sighed and rolled his eyes heavenwards in an obvious plea for patience as he saw that some of the players hadn't been content with tackling each other but had turned it into something of a brawl, and some other nimble smartass snatched the ball away, unnoticed by those involved in the dogpile, and ran for the point. It wasn't like punching another player was against the rules of epikoinos, but there were customary limits to the violence.
"Wait here," he murmured to Emilia, then stepped forward and raised his voice. "If you idiots want to practice fighting today after all I'm happy to put you in armour!" He was aware he wasn't carrying his staff as he strode towards the knot of them, but luckily they got the hint and broke it up before he needed to physically thump sense into any of them.
"Where's the ball - pass it here." Someone did, and he caught the heavy leather ball neatly despite the fact he wasn't wearing the protective linen wraps over his hands the others were. It hadn't been a hard pitch, but it stung his palms a bit anyway. The feeling went away quickly, though, and he ignored it as he glanced around, taking a proper look at the entire area. Seeing that his other student had arrived on time, he waved her over as well as the princess.
"Someone grab the wind ball. Let's get a friendly game going." There were a couple enthusiastic hoots and a couple of groans, and he counted out a couple small teams of the younger and tireder players, and then added, "The rest of you, go back to being assholes if you like." He pitched the ball straight at one of the men who'd grumbled at the idea of switching to a friendlier game. "Stay on that half." He made a shooing motion, chasing them off, and then grinned at the remainder. "Right, so this is Emilia, who I've been bodyguarding lately, and Meinin, we got bored so they're going to play with us for a bit then I'm going to teach them a bit of wrestling." Someone choked back a skeptical chuckle, and Lesley snorted. "I certainly don't have any other hobbies, so it's this or I get to learn how to embroider. Don't ruin my life for me, Patos."
He held out his hands for the ball, and tossed it lightly towards the girls so they would know heavy it was before it came at them for real. Unlike the ball the others were playing with, this one was made of pig's bladder, inflated with enough air that it bounced when it hit the ground. Much lighter than the smaller, harder ball used for most games, but it was still made of leather and could certainly knock the wind out of you if someone seriously spiked it at you. "You can wrap your hands if you want, but you probably don't need to. This game's got less tackling than the other one, but pay attention or you'll likely get knocked into. Goal is, keep the ball in the air. If it hits the ground on your team's side of the line, you get a point. First team to get to ten gets to run laps." He grinned at the expected complaints. It was their day off! "Oh, fine. Winners get the baths first." That seemed fair to the men, though Les suspected neither side would actually enforce their rights if they won. "Anyway - you can slap the ball out of the air with one hand, but if you catch it you can only throw it up. Questions?" he asked the two girls.
He would put them one on each team, to be fair, and join the same team as Emelia once he'd put his sword down against the wall.
Watching the gladiators training was one of those "happily distracted from anything political" activities Lesley suggested Circenia might like for Emilia to engage in. She'd trusted them to be apolitical enough to hire them as guards; he trusted she was too saturated with politics herself to realize they might be apolitical enough to throw in with Emilia for no reason other than that she was pretty. Besides, so long as Emilia appeared to have no designs on the throne, it hardly mattered what friends she made.
Circe probably realized the younger princess honestly didn't want the throne, never had, and likely never would, which helped with getting Emilia more freedom. If Athenia had been prospering under Elias, there would have been no reason to put any restrictions on her at all. But then, if Elias had been allowing the government to function normally, someone else might have had too much power for his likeing, perhaps? Les reflected he should probably find some time to talk to Pavlos at some point. Failing that, though... He mentally shrugged. Today's secret wasn't about politics.
He led Emilia into the barracks first, uncaring if anyone noticed. "You should fit one of Constans' tunics," he commented to her in explanation as he ducked into a room and tossed her a bundle of fabric a moment later. "Here. No sense tripping over a long hem when you're trying to learn the basics. Jewelry off, too - you can leave it in my room." He pointed her at the right one. Nobody with sense would go rummaging in his room, and nobody who knew him would expect him to leave anything worth stealing there, given that one, he had somewhere else much safer to leave things in his mother's home and two, he didn't own anything worth stealing in the first place.
"Someone else actually asked my mother if I could teach his daughter how to keep herself from getting mugged, so I don't have to start you off wrestling one of the boys," he reassured her. "But this is our day off from training, so," he grinned, "we'll play with them a bit. Good to get your body moving before you do anything too difficult." He'd warned Meilin to come in a tunic (or with one to change into), but he doubted the princess had owned a tunic since she became a woman, quite aside from the fact they were basically sneaking around today.
Yelling from the training field resolved into equal parts cheers and jeering as they stepped out onto the sand, and Lesley sighed and rolled his eyes heavenwards in an obvious plea for patience as he saw that some of the players hadn't been content with tackling each other but had turned it into something of a brawl, and some other nimble smartass snatched the ball away, unnoticed by those involved in the dogpile, and ran for the point. It wasn't like punching another player was against the rules of epikoinos, but there were customary limits to the violence.
"Wait here," he murmured to Emilia, then stepped forward and raised his voice. "If you idiots want to practice fighting today after all I'm happy to put you in armour!" He was aware he wasn't carrying his staff as he strode towards the knot of them, but luckily they got the hint and broke it up before he needed to physically thump sense into any of them.
"Where's the ball - pass it here." Someone did, and he caught the heavy leather ball neatly despite the fact he wasn't wearing the protective linen wraps over his hands the others were. It hadn't been a hard pitch, but it stung his palms a bit anyway. The feeling went away quickly, though, and he ignored it as he glanced around, taking a proper look at the entire area. Seeing that his other student had arrived on time, he waved her over as well as the princess.
"Someone grab the wind ball. Let's get a friendly game going." There were a couple enthusiastic hoots and a couple of groans, and he counted out a couple small teams of the younger and tireder players, and then added, "The rest of you, go back to being assholes if you like." He pitched the ball straight at one of the men who'd grumbled at the idea of switching to a friendlier game. "Stay on that half." He made a shooing motion, chasing them off, and then grinned at the remainder. "Right, so this is Emilia, who I've been bodyguarding lately, and Meinin, we got bored so they're going to play with us for a bit then I'm going to teach them a bit of wrestling." Someone choked back a skeptical chuckle, and Lesley snorted. "I certainly don't have any other hobbies, so it's this or I get to learn how to embroider. Don't ruin my life for me, Patos."
He held out his hands for the ball, and tossed it lightly towards the girls so they would know heavy it was before it came at them for real. Unlike the ball the others were playing with, this one was made of pig's bladder, inflated with enough air that it bounced when it hit the ground. Much lighter than the smaller, harder ball used for most games, but it was still made of leather and could certainly knock the wind out of you if someone seriously spiked it at you. "You can wrap your hands if you want, but you probably don't need to. This game's got less tackling than the other one, but pay attention or you'll likely get knocked into. Goal is, keep the ball in the air. If it hits the ground on your team's side of the line, you get a point. First team to get to ten gets to run laps." He grinned at the expected complaints. It was their day off! "Oh, fine. Winners get the baths first." That seemed fair to the men, though Les suspected neither side would actually enforce their rights if they won. "Anyway - you can slap the ball out of the air with one hand, but if you catch it you can only throw it up. Questions?" he asked the two girls.
He would put them one on each team, to be fair, and join the same team as Emelia once he'd put his sword down against the wall.
Bored as she was in the palace, she would accept anything someone threw at her to get out of the palati - but that she'd get to watch gladiator's train, was something Emilia had not expected. A chance to watch top-naked men train? Why not! Of course, it isn't exactly the kind of activity endorsed by her sister, and the last time she had been there, Lady Iris had found her and quickly shuffled the young princess away. But Emilia was all for it... and really, since Persephone wasn't around and Circenia had approved it, she was not one to argue.
The brunette had tossed on a short chiton today, aware of how dusty the Arcus could be, specifically chose a navy blue chiton that ended just below her knees. Cinched and held up by golden cords, they were sleeveless and allowed the breeze to caress her golden skin, the neckline low enough that it grazed the top of her chest. Wearing a gold necklace embedded with Colchian rubies, her brown locks were piled atop her head and held in place with golden filligree, yet not as stately as any of the crowns Emilia had long since eschewed wearing.
But it would seem that all the thought the princess had put into her outfit was for naught as she was given a bundle of fabric she almost dropped, stumbling before she caught the pile against her chest. The barrage of instructions only had Emilia gaping, before she scrambled to keep up - would her jewelry get dirtied? Her chiton get dusty?
Not given much time to think apparently, Emilia quickly changed in the room Lesley had directed her too, struggling a little with the necklace and golden bangles she had, before eventually appearing and looking quite uncomfortable in a tunic. She had never worn one before, and felt quite naked when the clothes hung over her figure. The golden filligree had been left in her hair, for without it the locks would come tumbling down, and the heat meant she'd much rather have it away from her sweat.
Jogging out just in time to see the men passing balls, Emilia almost stumbled and fell when Lesley told her to wait, and the young princess basically skidded to a stop, watching bug-eyed as he yelled at them. She's seen this side of Lesley before. He was usually more soft spoken with her, even if his voice still held a hard edge, but this was when she had first met him the earlier days, when he was simply a gladiator, and she had stumbled upon the Arcus quite by accident.
Watching with a light of fascination in her eyes as Lesley basically herded his men away, focus returned to her hazel gaze when she was introduced to another young lady, whose features instinctively made Emilia curious. She did not seem to be of Grecian birth, yet her clothing and mannerism's spoke otherwise. Briefly, Emilia giggled when she imagined Lesley learning embroidery - she doubted her bodyguard would be able to stay still doing so, but the image proved to be an amusing one.
When the ball was lobbed at her, Emilia lunged to catch it, almost missing it. Not used to holding such an object, she found herself fascinated by the feel of it on her hands, skin more used to touching silk and fine cloth, instead of hard pig skin rough and well used. So fascinated she was by it, she almost missed Lesley's words until she heard 'goal', and hurriedly look up, trying to catch up. Her frown got deeper as his explanation went on, but ... questions? She would have them if she knew what the game was.
But Lesley would probably kill her if she asked him to repeat.
So instead, she simply put on her best, shakily confident face, and shook her head as she passed the ball to Lesley, her lips in a hard line. She'd probably get knocked out, but she can try right?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Bored as she was in the palace, she would accept anything someone threw at her to get out of the palati - but that she'd get to watch gladiator's train, was something Emilia had not expected. A chance to watch top-naked men train? Why not! Of course, it isn't exactly the kind of activity endorsed by her sister, and the last time she had been there, Lady Iris had found her and quickly shuffled the young princess away. But Emilia was all for it... and really, since Persephone wasn't around and Circenia had approved it, she was not one to argue.
The brunette had tossed on a short chiton today, aware of how dusty the Arcus could be, specifically chose a navy blue chiton that ended just below her knees. Cinched and held up by golden cords, they were sleeveless and allowed the breeze to caress her golden skin, the neckline low enough that it grazed the top of her chest. Wearing a gold necklace embedded with Colchian rubies, her brown locks were piled atop her head and held in place with golden filligree, yet not as stately as any of the crowns Emilia had long since eschewed wearing.
But it would seem that all the thought the princess had put into her outfit was for naught as she was given a bundle of fabric she almost dropped, stumbling before she caught the pile against her chest. The barrage of instructions only had Emilia gaping, before she scrambled to keep up - would her jewelry get dirtied? Her chiton get dusty?
Not given much time to think apparently, Emilia quickly changed in the room Lesley had directed her too, struggling a little with the necklace and golden bangles she had, before eventually appearing and looking quite uncomfortable in a tunic. She had never worn one before, and felt quite naked when the clothes hung over her figure. The golden filligree had been left in her hair, for without it the locks would come tumbling down, and the heat meant she'd much rather have it away from her sweat.
Jogging out just in time to see the men passing balls, Emilia almost stumbled and fell when Lesley told her to wait, and the young princess basically skidded to a stop, watching bug-eyed as he yelled at them. She's seen this side of Lesley before. He was usually more soft spoken with her, even if his voice still held a hard edge, but this was when she had first met him the earlier days, when he was simply a gladiator, and she had stumbled upon the Arcus quite by accident.
Watching with a light of fascination in her eyes as Lesley basically herded his men away, focus returned to her hazel gaze when she was introduced to another young lady, whose features instinctively made Emilia curious. She did not seem to be of Grecian birth, yet her clothing and mannerism's spoke otherwise. Briefly, Emilia giggled when she imagined Lesley learning embroidery - she doubted her bodyguard would be able to stay still doing so, but the image proved to be an amusing one.
When the ball was lobbed at her, Emilia lunged to catch it, almost missing it. Not used to holding such an object, she found herself fascinated by the feel of it on her hands, skin more used to touching silk and fine cloth, instead of hard pig skin rough and well used. So fascinated she was by it, she almost missed Lesley's words until she heard 'goal', and hurriedly look up, trying to catch up. Her frown got deeper as his explanation went on, but ... questions? She would have them if she knew what the game was.
But Lesley would probably kill her if she asked him to repeat.
So instead, she simply put on her best, shakily confident face, and shook her head as she passed the ball to Lesley, her lips in a hard line. She'd probably get knocked out, but she can try right?
Bored as she was in the palace, she would accept anything someone threw at her to get out of the palati - but that she'd get to watch gladiator's train, was something Emilia had not expected. A chance to watch top-naked men train? Why not! Of course, it isn't exactly the kind of activity endorsed by her sister, and the last time she had been there, Lady Iris had found her and quickly shuffled the young princess away. But Emilia was all for it... and really, since Persephone wasn't around and Circenia had approved it, she was not one to argue.
The brunette had tossed on a short chiton today, aware of how dusty the Arcus could be, specifically chose a navy blue chiton that ended just below her knees. Cinched and held up by golden cords, they were sleeveless and allowed the breeze to caress her golden skin, the neckline low enough that it grazed the top of her chest. Wearing a gold necklace embedded with Colchian rubies, her brown locks were piled atop her head and held in place with golden filligree, yet not as stately as any of the crowns Emilia had long since eschewed wearing.
But it would seem that all the thought the princess had put into her outfit was for naught as she was given a bundle of fabric she almost dropped, stumbling before she caught the pile against her chest. The barrage of instructions only had Emilia gaping, before she scrambled to keep up - would her jewelry get dirtied? Her chiton get dusty?
Not given much time to think apparently, Emilia quickly changed in the room Lesley had directed her too, struggling a little with the necklace and golden bangles she had, before eventually appearing and looking quite uncomfortable in a tunic. She had never worn one before, and felt quite naked when the clothes hung over her figure. The golden filligree had been left in her hair, for without it the locks would come tumbling down, and the heat meant she'd much rather have it away from her sweat.
Jogging out just in time to see the men passing balls, Emilia almost stumbled and fell when Lesley told her to wait, and the young princess basically skidded to a stop, watching bug-eyed as he yelled at them. She's seen this side of Lesley before. He was usually more soft spoken with her, even if his voice still held a hard edge, but this was when she had first met him the earlier days, when he was simply a gladiator, and she had stumbled upon the Arcus quite by accident.
Watching with a light of fascination in her eyes as Lesley basically herded his men away, focus returned to her hazel gaze when she was introduced to another young lady, whose features instinctively made Emilia curious. She did not seem to be of Grecian birth, yet her clothing and mannerism's spoke otherwise. Briefly, Emilia giggled when she imagined Lesley learning embroidery - she doubted her bodyguard would be able to stay still doing so, but the image proved to be an amusing one.
When the ball was lobbed at her, Emilia lunged to catch it, almost missing it. Not used to holding such an object, she found herself fascinated by the feel of it on her hands, skin more used to touching silk and fine cloth, instead of hard pig skin rough and well used. So fascinated she was by it, she almost missed Lesley's words until she heard 'goal', and hurriedly look up, trying to catch up. Her frown got deeper as his explanation went on, but ... questions? She would have them if she knew what the game was.
But Lesley would probably kill her if she asked him to repeat.
So instead, she simply put on her best, shakily confident face, and shook her head as she passed the ball to Lesley, her lips in a hard line. She'd probably get knocked out, but she can try right?
Apparently, sending his youngest daughter off to the Athenian University was a prospect proved too dangerous in Dong Fang Jun Li's eyes, which was why she found herself booked for a training session of sorts with the brute of a man that was the princess's bodyguard - Lesley. "A date?" Erqing had inquired incredulously, with such a maddeningly look on her face Meilin could have smacked it right off. Really, her sister was proving herself more and more intelligent each coming day. She could hardly call a day of roughhousing in the Arcus a romantic tryst, and even more ludicrous was the man she would be sharing it with. Lesley was not anything close to a lover. And neither was the company he brought - the Princess Emilia.
She hadn't been told of this specific development, but now she felt rather foolish thinking back on it. He was the princess's bodyguard. It was unlikely he would ever leave Emilia to another. Nevertheless, Meilin had to stamp down her surprise even as she shot the other girl a helping smile, though the nerves were clearly written across both their faces. Admittedly, it was difficult to imagine someone like Emilia ever getting her hands dirty in the Arcus. Meilin, as an ordinary civilian, was far more acquainted with the muck and grime of such... 'barbaric' games (in Erqing's own words) and had far less jewelry or splendid chitons to fret over. That didn't mean the nerves had completely dissolved from her system, however. This would still be her first time attempting not to mess up in front of a whole bunch of young, rigorous, and did she mention half-naked men?
The tunic she wore was nondescript and dry to the skin. Lesley had instructed her to do so, though she didn't think she needed direction on that aspect. It was pretty self-explanatory, really. They wouldn't be knitting or doing anything remotely expected of a lady, that was for sure. Long skirts were out of the question. Though it seemed he hadn't exactly told Emilia the same, for the princess had come in clothes certainly much finer than her best would ever be, and Meilin didn't miss the note of horror in the girl's expression as she was thrown a bundle of the same rough material. She stood carefully to the side, taking in the games of the men with sharp eyes, every now and then wringing a fold in her tunic between thumb and forefinger. Her raven-black hair had been combed from her face into a tight chignon, secured with a handmade ivory pin. Reluctantly, she had taken off her precious jade bangle and left it in Erqing's care. No way was she about to risk it shattering, after all.
Her hands pulled from her tunic to fidget at her mouth as Lesley came tossing an inflated ball made of pig's bladder in Emilia's direction. The princess caught it, looking every bit like a deer held at knifepoint - worried, anxious, and yet... there was a hint of fascination there as well. Meilin wasn't sure of her standing on associating with civilians. They hadn't exactly had a chance to exchange words since they had arrived in the Arcus and watched Lesley shout at his men. Perhaps later, but for now, she already had a lot to think about. Like how not to completely embarrass herself. Like how to put her physical talents into good use. She stretched quickly, feeling the slow ache in her thighs and forearms as she forced her muscles to relax. A game - that was all it was. She was used to that.
She listened raptly as Lesley described the rules of the game, though for how quickly he ran through them she almost missed it. Alright, keep the ball in the air. Hit the ground on the opposite team's side to score. Smack the ball with her hand. Alright, she could do that. It sounded simple enough, but Meilin was half-certain it wouldn't seem so a few minutes later, when they actually got into the groove of the game. She suppressed a cringe as Lesley directed her over to the other team. The men were watching her like wolves. Thank goodness, Meilin's typical expression was one of practised calm, and her uneasiness rarely ever showed. Part of her was immensely relieved that Emilia was in this with her, though they were on opposing teams. She wasn't going to be a deadweight.
A warm-up, that's all it was. Meilin flexed her fingers experimentally. There was a little twang of disappointment there that Emilia hadn't given the ball to her after feeling it for herself, but she simply guessed the princess wasn't used to thinking for others. She weighed the thing with her eyes. Enough surface area for her palm to get a good grip, but its apparent lightness was not something she could underestimate. Meilin slipped a few slender fingers over her neck, parting stray strands of her hair from her skin on which a thin sheen of sweat had already begun to develop.
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Check out their information page here.
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Apparently, sending his youngest daughter off to the Athenian University was a prospect proved too dangerous in Dong Fang Jun Li's eyes, which was why she found herself booked for a training session of sorts with the brute of a man that was the princess's bodyguard - Lesley. "A date?" Erqing had inquired incredulously, with such a maddeningly look on her face Meilin could have smacked it right off. Really, her sister was proving herself more and more intelligent each coming day. She could hardly call a day of roughhousing in the Arcus a romantic tryst, and even more ludicrous was the man she would be sharing it with. Lesley was not anything close to a lover. And neither was the company he brought - the Princess Emilia.
She hadn't been told of this specific development, but now she felt rather foolish thinking back on it. He was the princess's bodyguard. It was unlikely he would ever leave Emilia to another. Nevertheless, Meilin had to stamp down her surprise even as she shot the other girl a helping smile, though the nerves were clearly written across both their faces. Admittedly, it was difficult to imagine someone like Emilia ever getting her hands dirty in the Arcus. Meilin, as an ordinary civilian, was far more acquainted with the muck and grime of such... 'barbaric' games (in Erqing's own words) and had far less jewelry or splendid chitons to fret over. That didn't mean the nerves had completely dissolved from her system, however. This would still be her first time attempting not to mess up in front of a whole bunch of young, rigorous, and did she mention half-naked men?
The tunic she wore was nondescript and dry to the skin. Lesley had instructed her to do so, though she didn't think she needed direction on that aspect. It was pretty self-explanatory, really. They wouldn't be knitting or doing anything remotely expected of a lady, that was for sure. Long skirts were out of the question. Though it seemed he hadn't exactly told Emilia the same, for the princess had come in clothes certainly much finer than her best would ever be, and Meilin didn't miss the note of horror in the girl's expression as she was thrown a bundle of the same rough material. She stood carefully to the side, taking in the games of the men with sharp eyes, every now and then wringing a fold in her tunic between thumb and forefinger. Her raven-black hair had been combed from her face into a tight chignon, secured with a handmade ivory pin. Reluctantly, she had taken off her precious jade bangle and left it in Erqing's care. No way was she about to risk it shattering, after all.
Her hands pulled from her tunic to fidget at her mouth as Lesley came tossing an inflated ball made of pig's bladder in Emilia's direction. The princess caught it, looking every bit like a deer held at knifepoint - worried, anxious, and yet... there was a hint of fascination there as well. Meilin wasn't sure of her standing on associating with civilians. They hadn't exactly had a chance to exchange words since they had arrived in the Arcus and watched Lesley shout at his men. Perhaps later, but for now, she already had a lot to think about. Like how not to completely embarrass herself. Like how to put her physical talents into good use. She stretched quickly, feeling the slow ache in her thighs and forearms as she forced her muscles to relax. A game - that was all it was. She was used to that.
She listened raptly as Lesley described the rules of the game, though for how quickly he ran through them she almost missed it. Alright, keep the ball in the air. Hit the ground on the opposite team's side to score. Smack the ball with her hand. Alright, she could do that. It sounded simple enough, but Meilin was half-certain it wouldn't seem so a few minutes later, when they actually got into the groove of the game. She suppressed a cringe as Lesley directed her over to the other team. The men were watching her like wolves. Thank goodness, Meilin's typical expression was one of practised calm, and her uneasiness rarely ever showed. Part of her was immensely relieved that Emilia was in this with her, though they were on opposing teams. She wasn't going to be a deadweight.
A warm-up, that's all it was. Meilin flexed her fingers experimentally. There was a little twang of disappointment there that Emilia hadn't given the ball to her after feeling it for herself, but she simply guessed the princess wasn't used to thinking for others. She weighed the thing with her eyes. Enough surface area for her palm to get a good grip, but its apparent lightness was not something she could underestimate. Meilin slipped a few slender fingers over her neck, parting stray strands of her hair from her skin on which a thin sheen of sweat had already begun to develop.
Apparently, sending his youngest daughter off to the Athenian University was a prospect proved too dangerous in Dong Fang Jun Li's eyes, which was why she found herself booked for a training session of sorts with the brute of a man that was the princess's bodyguard - Lesley. "A date?" Erqing had inquired incredulously, with such a maddeningly look on her face Meilin could have smacked it right off. Really, her sister was proving herself more and more intelligent each coming day. She could hardly call a day of roughhousing in the Arcus a romantic tryst, and even more ludicrous was the man she would be sharing it with. Lesley was not anything close to a lover. And neither was the company he brought - the Princess Emilia.
She hadn't been told of this specific development, but now she felt rather foolish thinking back on it. He was the princess's bodyguard. It was unlikely he would ever leave Emilia to another. Nevertheless, Meilin had to stamp down her surprise even as she shot the other girl a helping smile, though the nerves were clearly written across both their faces. Admittedly, it was difficult to imagine someone like Emilia ever getting her hands dirty in the Arcus. Meilin, as an ordinary civilian, was far more acquainted with the muck and grime of such... 'barbaric' games (in Erqing's own words) and had far less jewelry or splendid chitons to fret over. That didn't mean the nerves had completely dissolved from her system, however. This would still be her first time attempting not to mess up in front of a whole bunch of young, rigorous, and did she mention half-naked men?
The tunic she wore was nondescript and dry to the skin. Lesley had instructed her to do so, though she didn't think she needed direction on that aspect. It was pretty self-explanatory, really. They wouldn't be knitting or doing anything remotely expected of a lady, that was for sure. Long skirts were out of the question. Though it seemed he hadn't exactly told Emilia the same, for the princess had come in clothes certainly much finer than her best would ever be, and Meilin didn't miss the note of horror in the girl's expression as she was thrown a bundle of the same rough material. She stood carefully to the side, taking in the games of the men with sharp eyes, every now and then wringing a fold in her tunic between thumb and forefinger. Her raven-black hair had been combed from her face into a tight chignon, secured with a handmade ivory pin. Reluctantly, she had taken off her precious jade bangle and left it in Erqing's care. No way was she about to risk it shattering, after all.
Her hands pulled from her tunic to fidget at her mouth as Lesley came tossing an inflated ball made of pig's bladder in Emilia's direction. The princess caught it, looking every bit like a deer held at knifepoint - worried, anxious, and yet... there was a hint of fascination there as well. Meilin wasn't sure of her standing on associating with civilians. They hadn't exactly had a chance to exchange words since they had arrived in the Arcus and watched Lesley shout at his men. Perhaps later, but for now, she already had a lot to think about. Like how not to completely embarrass herself. Like how to put her physical talents into good use. She stretched quickly, feeling the slow ache in her thighs and forearms as she forced her muscles to relax. A game - that was all it was. She was used to that.
She listened raptly as Lesley described the rules of the game, though for how quickly he ran through them she almost missed it. Alright, keep the ball in the air. Hit the ground on the opposite team's side to score. Smack the ball with her hand. Alright, she could do that. It sounded simple enough, but Meilin was half-certain it wouldn't seem so a few minutes later, when they actually got into the groove of the game. She suppressed a cringe as Lesley directed her over to the other team. The men were watching her like wolves. Thank goodness, Meilin's typical expression was one of practised calm, and her uneasiness rarely ever showed. Part of her was immensely relieved that Emilia was in this with her, though they were on opposing teams. She wasn't going to be a deadweight.
A warm-up, that's all it was. Meilin flexed her fingers experimentally. There was a little twang of disappointment there that Emilia hadn't given the ball to her after feeling it for herself, but she simply guessed the princess wasn't used to thinking for others. She weighed the thing with her eyes. Enough surface area for her palm to get a good grip, but its apparent lightness was not something she could underestimate. Meilin slipped a few slender fingers over her neck, parting stray strands of her hair from her skin on which a thin sheen of sweat had already begun to develop.
Lesley was grinning wickedly as he took his place. He just nodded to Emilia and tossed the ball back. "Your serve, lady."
To someone who didn't know him at all, he looked like a man anticipating the fun of the game as a break from duty. Someone who knew him, but not well, would be forgiven for assuming that this particular gladiator only grinned like that when someone was about to get hurt, and he got one or two sideways looks, but this was supposed to be a relatively harmless game. A good warm-up for the girls, and a welcome breather for the men he'd picked out of the other scrum. Someone who knew him well would know that while he certainly did enjoy thrashing folks, he was almost equally a fan of harmless chaos, and neither were those the only things he enjoyed - and he did not enjoy being cooped up inside, or forced to stay on his best behaviour for long, so likely he really was just anticipating the fun of some exercise, that being much rarer lately than he preferred.
All of the above, of course. He wasn't planning on hurting anyone himself, but Emilia was a complete klutz after all, though his insistence that she romp around with her dog was doing some good for her endurance and coordination. He doubted she'd noticed a difference yet, and he wasn't at all sure she had the situational awareness to avoid getting knocked into by an enthusiastic player. Meilin was an unknown, but she was a girl, and hadn't seemed terribly tomboyish when he'd seen her in the marketplace, so he wasn't expecting much - though she did think to stretch, so he guessed she'd do better than the princess. He reminded himself not to laugh out loud at either of them.
"Just throw it straight up," one of the other gladiators told the out of her depth noble girl helpfully.
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Lesley was grinning wickedly as he took his place. He just nodded to Emilia and tossed the ball back. "Your serve, lady."
To someone who didn't know him at all, he looked like a man anticipating the fun of the game as a break from duty. Someone who knew him, but not well, would be forgiven for assuming that this particular gladiator only grinned like that when someone was about to get hurt, and he got one or two sideways looks, but this was supposed to be a relatively harmless game. A good warm-up for the girls, and a welcome breather for the men he'd picked out of the other scrum. Someone who knew him well would know that while he certainly did enjoy thrashing folks, he was almost equally a fan of harmless chaos, and neither were those the only things he enjoyed - and he did not enjoy being cooped up inside, or forced to stay on his best behaviour for long, so likely he really was just anticipating the fun of some exercise, that being much rarer lately than he preferred.
All of the above, of course. He wasn't planning on hurting anyone himself, but Emilia was a complete klutz after all, though his insistence that she romp around with her dog was doing some good for her endurance and coordination. He doubted she'd noticed a difference yet, and he wasn't at all sure she had the situational awareness to avoid getting knocked into by an enthusiastic player. Meilin was an unknown, but she was a girl, and hadn't seemed terribly tomboyish when he'd seen her in the marketplace, so he wasn't expecting much - though she did think to stretch, so he guessed she'd do better than the princess. He reminded himself not to laugh out loud at either of them.
"Just throw it straight up," one of the other gladiators told the out of her depth noble girl helpfully.
Lesley was grinning wickedly as he took his place. He just nodded to Emilia and tossed the ball back. "Your serve, lady."
To someone who didn't know him at all, he looked like a man anticipating the fun of the game as a break from duty. Someone who knew him, but not well, would be forgiven for assuming that this particular gladiator only grinned like that when someone was about to get hurt, and he got one or two sideways looks, but this was supposed to be a relatively harmless game. A good warm-up for the girls, and a welcome breather for the men he'd picked out of the other scrum. Someone who knew him well would know that while he certainly did enjoy thrashing folks, he was almost equally a fan of harmless chaos, and neither were those the only things he enjoyed - and he did not enjoy being cooped up inside, or forced to stay on his best behaviour for long, so likely he really was just anticipating the fun of some exercise, that being much rarer lately than he preferred.
All of the above, of course. He wasn't planning on hurting anyone himself, but Emilia was a complete klutz after all, though his insistence that she romp around with her dog was doing some good for her endurance and coordination. He doubted she'd noticed a difference yet, and he wasn't at all sure she had the situational awareness to avoid getting knocked into by an enthusiastic player. Meilin was an unknown, but she was a girl, and hadn't seemed terribly tomboyish when he'd seen her in the marketplace, so he wasn't expecting much - though she did think to stretch, so he guessed she'd do better than the princess. He reminded himself not to laugh out loud at either of them.
"Just throw it straight up," one of the other gladiators told the out of her depth noble girl helpfully.
She scrambled, missed, and had to run after the ball Lesley had tossed at her - definitely not a good start already. Even without exerting much at all, Emilia could begin to feel a light sheen of sweat building upon the edges of her brows, as she made a mad grab at the ball rolling away, almost fell had she not caught her balance. The girl turned to flash a sheepish grin at Lesley, and quickly ran back hugging the leather ball to her abdomen, only to blink when he asked her to serve.
Serve? What exactly was that? She knew how the servants served her meals, of course. Back in the palati, mealtimes usually meant she would sit down in a fresh chiton, exchanging words and updates with her sister and father whilst their meals were served to them on bronze or wooden platters, before being whisked away. Emilia never knew exactly what happened to them after, but she assumed someone would clean them.
But how does one serve a ball?
Obviously, the look of perplexion was clear on her face, for a gladiator had leaned over to give instruction. The voice had been sudden, startling the young princess before she looked around, and quickly nodded as she bit her bottom lip in an effort to try and figure out what to do. Throw it straight up. How hard could that be, right?
Taking a deep, fortifying breathe, the girl weighed the ball in her hand again, glancing hesitantly at Lesley before returning her gaze to the ball. It can't be that hard, right? With her right arm, she launched it in the air, her eyes following the trajectory of the object... that she really wasn't doing much but watching it be lobbed high in the sky, directly above her.
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She scrambled, missed, and had to run after the ball Lesley had tossed at her - definitely not a good start already. Even without exerting much at all, Emilia could begin to feel a light sheen of sweat building upon the edges of her brows, as she made a mad grab at the ball rolling away, almost fell had she not caught her balance. The girl turned to flash a sheepish grin at Lesley, and quickly ran back hugging the leather ball to her abdomen, only to blink when he asked her to serve.
Serve? What exactly was that? She knew how the servants served her meals, of course. Back in the palati, mealtimes usually meant she would sit down in a fresh chiton, exchanging words and updates with her sister and father whilst their meals were served to them on bronze or wooden platters, before being whisked away. Emilia never knew exactly what happened to them after, but she assumed someone would clean them.
But how does one serve a ball?
Obviously, the look of perplexion was clear on her face, for a gladiator had leaned over to give instruction. The voice had been sudden, startling the young princess before she looked around, and quickly nodded as she bit her bottom lip in an effort to try and figure out what to do. Throw it straight up. How hard could that be, right?
Taking a deep, fortifying breathe, the girl weighed the ball in her hand again, glancing hesitantly at Lesley before returning her gaze to the ball. It can't be that hard, right? With her right arm, she launched it in the air, her eyes following the trajectory of the object... that she really wasn't doing much but watching it be lobbed high in the sky, directly above her.
She scrambled, missed, and had to run after the ball Lesley had tossed at her - definitely not a good start already. Even without exerting much at all, Emilia could begin to feel a light sheen of sweat building upon the edges of her brows, as she made a mad grab at the ball rolling away, almost fell had she not caught her balance. The girl turned to flash a sheepish grin at Lesley, and quickly ran back hugging the leather ball to her abdomen, only to blink when he asked her to serve.
Serve? What exactly was that? She knew how the servants served her meals, of course. Back in the palati, mealtimes usually meant she would sit down in a fresh chiton, exchanging words and updates with her sister and father whilst their meals were served to them on bronze or wooden platters, before being whisked away. Emilia never knew exactly what happened to them after, but she assumed someone would clean them.
But how does one serve a ball?
Obviously, the look of perplexion was clear on her face, for a gladiator had leaned over to give instruction. The voice had been sudden, startling the young princess before she looked around, and quickly nodded as she bit her bottom lip in an effort to try and figure out what to do. Throw it straight up. How hard could that be, right?
Taking a deep, fortifying breathe, the girl weighed the ball in her hand again, glancing hesitantly at Lesley before returning her gaze to the ball. It can't be that hard, right? With her right arm, she launched it in the air, her eyes following the trajectory of the object... that she really wasn't doing much but watching it be lobbed high in the sky, directly above her.
The princess fumbled with, chased, and just barely snagged the ball with her fingertips as it rolled away with a ridiculous sort of smugness. Perhaps out of second-hand embarrassment, Meilin couldn't help but glance briefly towards the men on her side, torn between averting her gaze from Emilia and running over to help, to do something, before they could lose composure and laugh. Or worse.
The word "serve" seemed to be lost on the princess, and even as she squinted in confusion Meilin was already running scenarios through her head. If that was anything like what she had seen her brothers do before, it would be sending the ball over the line for the other team to toss. Though how exactly... was still somewhat a mystery. Meilin promptly decided she couldn't possibly be expected to execute flawless technique at this juncture. Her main goal was to simply lob it over the line well enough for their opponents to pick it up from there.
How good was "well enough"?
Before she could formulate an answer for herself, Meilin watched through slightly narrowed eyes, spacing out her feet, as Emilia flung the ball high into the air directly above her head. A small dent appeared between her brows. How was she going to get it over the line like that? Oh. She merely had to smack it as it fell. Perhaps the princess was more intelligent a player than Meilin had originally pegged her for.
Or not.
There didn't seem to be anything any of them could have done as the ball made its rapid descent and loomed dangerously close to the princess's face, and yet her arms remained resolutely unmoving by her sides. A shout was rising in her throat, features already pulling into a wince. The princess was going to get a painful faceful of ball if she didn't do, something, immediately!
Or rather, faceful of elbow. The wince still manifested itself as one of Emilia's teammates, a heavy mountain of a man, moved quicker than she would have expected from someone of his size, thrusting his arm up and knocking squarely against the princess's face, throwing her clean backwards. If it were any small mercy the ball was now up and sailing in their direction, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach Meilin lunged forward and prodded it towards one of the taller men to her right with her fist. They'd be able to score much more likely than she.
Oh no. She looked to Lesley for his reaction.
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The princess fumbled with, chased, and just barely snagged the ball with her fingertips as it rolled away with a ridiculous sort of smugness. Perhaps out of second-hand embarrassment, Meilin couldn't help but glance briefly towards the men on her side, torn between averting her gaze from Emilia and running over to help, to do something, before they could lose composure and laugh. Or worse.
The word "serve" seemed to be lost on the princess, and even as she squinted in confusion Meilin was already running scenarios through her head. If that was anything like what she had seen her brothers do before, it would be sending the ball over the line for the other team to toss. Though how exactly... was still somewhat a mystery. Meilin promptly decided she couldn't possibly be expected to execute flawless technique at this juncture. Her main goal was to simply lob it over the line well enough for their opponents to pick it up from there.
How good was "well enough"?
Before she could formulate an answer for herself, Meilin watched through slightly narrowed eyes, spacing out her feet, as Emilia flung the ball high into the air directly above her head. A small dent appeared between her brows. How was she going to get it over the line like that? Oh. She merely had to smack it as it fell. Perhaps the princess was more intelligent a player than Meilin had originally pegged her for.
Or not.
There didn't seem to be anything any of them could have done as the ball made its rapid descent and loomed dangerously close to the princess's face, and yet her arms remained resolutely unmoving by her sides. A shout was rising in her throat, features already pulling into a wince. The princess was going to get a painful faceful of ball if she didn't do, something, immediately!
Or rather, faceful of elbow. The wince still manifested itself as one of Emilia's teammates, a heavy mountain of a man, moved quicker than she would have expected from someone of his size, thrusting his arm up and knocking squarely against the princess's face, throwing her clean backwards. If it were any small mercy the ball was now up and sailing in their direction, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach Meilin lunged forward and prodded it towards one of the taller men to her right with her fist. They'd be able to score much more likely than she.
Oh no. She looked to Lesley for his reaction.
The princess fumbled with, chased, and just barely snagged the ball with her fingertips as it rolled away with a ridiculous sort of smugness. Perhaps out of second-hand embarrassment, Meilin couldn't help but glance briefly towards the men on her side, torn between averting her gaze from Emilia and running over to help, to do something, before they could lose composure and laugh. Or worse.
The word "serve" seemed to be lost on the princess, and even as she squinted in confusion Meilin was already running scenarios through her head. If that was anything like what she had seen her brothers do before, it would be sending the ball over the line for the other team to toss. Though how exactly... was still somewhat a mystery. Meilin promptly decided she couldn't possibly be expected to execute flawless technique at this juncture. Her main goal was to simply lob it over the line well enough for their opponents to pick it up from there.
How good was "well enough"?
Before she could formulate an answer for herself, Meilin watched through slightly narrowed eyes, spacing out her feet, as Emilia flung the ball high into the air directly above her head. A small dent appeared between her brows. How was she going to get it over the line like that? Oh. She merely had to smack it as it fell. Perhaps the princess was more intelligent a player than Meilin had originally pegged her for.
Or not.
There didn't seem to be anything any of them could have done as the ball made its rapid descent and loomed dangerously close to the princess's face, and yet her arms remained resolutely unmoving by her sides. A shout was rising in her throat, features already pulling into a wince. The princess was going to get a painful faceful of ball if she didn't do, something, immediately!
Or rather, faceful of elbow. The wince still manifested itself as one of Emilia's teammates, a heavy mountain of a man, moved quicker than she would have expected from someone of his size, thrusting his arm up and knocking squarely against the princess's face, throwing her clean backwards. If it were any small mercy the ball was now up and sailing in their direction, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach Meilin lunged forward and prodded it towards one of the taller men to her right with her fist. They'd be able to score much more likely than she.
Oh no. She looked to Lesley for his reaction.
Lesley was watching the princess, sure enough, but he wasn't upset by the occurrence of her getting knocked into. He swallowed a chuckle - he might not object to her picking up a few bruises, but he knew better than to look like he was enjoying it - and watched her reaction. She might have less sense than a mouse, and not much spunk, but the question was whether she could pick herself back up - metaphorically or not - and try again, or whether he was going to have to start there. Also, there was the question of how she reacted to pain. He wondered whether she'd ever actually gotten hurt since she'd stopped falling over as a toddler.
Silly way to raise a child, if you asked him, which obviously nobody had. Then again, her father had probably intended a political marriage for her, which was probably easier to arrange if she was biddable and moderately useless. He should have actually done that before he died. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.
Ah well.
Meilin's rescue of the ball showed a lack of skill, but not terrible reflexes, and her teammate managed to rescue the situation; Lesley caught the quick glance as someone decided to pelt the ball straight for the weakest member of the opposing team - namely Emilia, and he lunged nearly straight up to intercept it. He did want the girls to get picked on, a bit, but he didn't want it to turn completely into a game of everyone against the fresh meat dodgeball. They weren't gladiator recruits.
He didn't manage to knock the ball back to the other side, but he did spoil the man's aim, and knocked into him on top of that - there was a quick tumble right at the line, and Les got his elbow into the other's face as they scrambled to their feet again. It had been more an accident than deliberate - though not exactly an accident. Just habit. Someone would doubtless try to get him back for it, but that was fine with him.
Their team wasn't going to let the ball go near Emilia again if they could help it, and it bounced between a couple of them for a few moments before someone tried for a point again. His lack of reaction a minute ago was tacit permission for them to knock her over to get to the ball, but after a point or two - depending how long that took - he could scold them into actually letting her play properly, if he needed to.
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Lesley was watching the princess, sure enough, but he wasn't upset by the occurrence of her getting knocked into. He swallowed a chuckle - he might not object to her picking up a few bruises, but he knew better than to look like he was enjoying it - and watched her reaction. She might have less sense than a mouse, and not much spunk, but the question was whether she could pick herself back up - metaphorically or not - and try again, or whether he was going to have to start there. Also, there was the question of how she reacted to pain. He wondered whether she'd ever actually gotten hurt since she'd stopped falling over as a toddler.
Silly way to raise a child, if you asked him, which obviously nobody had. Then again, her father had probably intended a political marriage for her, which was probably easier to arrange if she was biddable and moderately useless. He should have actually done that before he died. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.
Ah well.
Meilin's rescue of the ball showed a lack of skill, but not terrible reflexes, and her teammate managed to rescue the situation; Lesley caught the quick glance as someone decided to pelt the ball straight for the weakest member of the opposing team - namely Emilia, and he lunged nearly straight up to intercept it. He did want the girls to get picked on, a bit, but he didn't want it to turn completely into a game of everyone against the fresh meat dodgeball. They weren't gladiator recruits.
He didn't manage to knock the ball back to the other side, but he did spoil the man's aim, and knocked into him on top of that - there was a quick tumble right at the line, and Les got his elbow into the other's face as they scrambled to their feet again. It had been more an accident than deliberate - though not exactly an accident. Just habit. Someone would doubtless try to get him back for it, but that was fine with him.
Their team wasn't going to let the ball go near Emilia again if they could help it, and it bounced between a couple of them for a few moments before someone tried for a point again. His lack of reaction a minute ago was tacit permission for them to knock her over to get to the ball, but after a point or two - depending how long that took - he could scold them into actually letting her play properly, if he needed to.
Lesley was watching the princess, sure enough, but he wasn't upset by the occurrence of her getting knocked into. He swallowed a chuckle - he might not object to her picking up a few bruises, but he knew better than to look like he was enjoying it - and watched her reaction. She might have less sense than a mouse, and not much spunk, but the question was whether she could pick herself back up - metaphorically or not - and try again, or whether he was going to have to start there. Also, there was the question of how she reacted to pain. He wondered whether she'd ever actually gotten hurt since she'd stopped falling over as a toddler.
Silly way to raise a child, if you asked him, which obviously nobody had. Then again, her father had probably intended a political marriage for her, which was probably easier to arrange if she was biddable and moderately useless. He should have actually done that before he died. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.
Ah well.
Meilin's rescue of the ball showed a lack of skill, but not terrible reflexes, and her teammate managed to rescue the situation; Lesley caught the quick glance as someone decided to pelt the ball straight for the weakest member of the opposing team - namely Emilia, and he lunged nearly straight up to intercept it. He did want the girls to get picked on, a bit, but he didn't want it to turn completely into a game of everyone against the fresh meat dodgeball. They weren't gladiator recruits.
He didn't manage to knock the ball back to the other side, but he did spoil the man's aim, and knocked into him on top of that - there was a quick tumble right at the line, and Les got his elbow into the other's face as they scrambled to their feet again. It had been more an accident than deliberate - though not exactly an accident. Just habit. Someone would doubtless try to get him back for it, but that was fine with him.
Their team wasn't going to let the ball go near Emilia again if they could help it, and it bounced between a couple of them for a few moments before someone tried for a point again. His lack of reaction a minute ago was tacit permission for them to knock her over to get to the ball, but after a point or two - depending how long that took - he could scold them into actually letting her play properly, if he needed to.
Honestly, the princess wasn't really do much farther after launching the object she had been told to throw. The game meant she had to run... after the ball, right? Still hazy on the details, Emilia did not even realize someone was coming for her till he was practically on top of her. One split second she realized a man was far too close to her, and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the ground, with a cheek throbbing, her bottom throbbing and... well, basically everthing already hurt, and she was barely five minutes in.
The bottom of her lip trembled, an innate reaction after being the youngest and most precious of her family for a long, long time. Emilia had long since been fussed over, so much so that even a tiny cut she had obtained from accidentally brushing a sharper shard of granite would result in at least half a dozen servants tending to her. Persephone and Minas would like to have raised a tougher girl of course, but it seems that most of the level headed genes had went to her elder sister.
Not to say Emilia hasn't done her fair share of growing up of late however.
While she had the first instinct for tears to fall, as she picked herself up in time to watch Meilin hit the ball to another on the other side of the field, the princess also realized she was going to have to figure something out herself. In a game like this, she can't be a deadweight - just like how she was trying not to be useless to her sister and father. She's got a steep learning curve now, but the least she could do is try not to get in everyone else's way, right?
As she noticed the ball being tossed directly in her direction, Emilia was quick to roll out of the way as Lesley lunged to the front of her to intercept. Scrambling to her feet and dusting herself off in the process, it took a sparse few minutes for the brunette to notice how no one was allowing the ball near her.
Which was fine by her, really. She had gotten it in her head that Emilia would be far more useful trying to stay out of everyone's way, so that was exactly what she'd do, trying to stay behind the stronger players so even if the other team tried to aim the ball at her, there would at least be someone nearby to grab the ball.
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Honestly, the princess wasn't really do much farther after launching the object she had been told to throw. The game meant she had to run... after the ball, right? Still hazy on the details, Emilia did not even realize someone was coming for her till he was practically on top of her. One split second she realized a man was far too close to her, and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the ground, with a cheek throbbing, her bottom throbbing and... well, basically everthing already hurt, and she was barely five minutes in.
The bottom of her lip trembled, an innate reaction after being the youngest and most precious of her family for a long, long time. Emilia had long since been fussed over, so much so that even a tiny cut she had obtained from accidentally brushing a sharper shard of granite would result in at least half a dozen servants tending to her. Persephone and Minas would like to have raised a tougher girl of course, but it seems that most of the level headed genes had went to her elder sister.
Not to say Emilia hasn't done her fair share of growing up of late however.
While she had the first instinct for tears to fall, as she picked herself up in time to watch Meilin hit the ball to another on the other side of the field, the princess also realized she was going to have to figure something out herself. In a game like this, she can't be a deadweight - just like how she was trying not to be useless to her sister and father. She's got a steep learning curve now, but the least she could do is try not to get in everyone else's way, right?
As she noticed the ball being tossed directly in her direction, Emilia was quick to roll out of the way as Lesley lunged to the front of her to intercept. Scrambling to her feet and dusting herself off in the process, it took a sparse few minutes for the brunette to notice how no one was allowing the ball near her.
Which was fine by her, really. She had gotten it in her head that Emilia would be far more useful trying to stay out of everyone's way, so that was exactly what she'd do, trying to stay behind the stronger players so even if the other team tried to aim the ball at her, there would at least be someone nearby to grab the ball.
Honestly, the princess wasn't really do much farther after launching the object she had been told to throw. The game meant she had to run... after the ball, right? Still hazy on the details, Emilia did not even realize someone was coming for her till he was practically on top of her. One split second she realized a man was far too close to her, and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the ground, with a cheek throbbing, her bottom throbbing and... well, basically everthing already hurt, and she was barely five minutes in.
The bottom of her lip trembled, an innate reaction after being the youngest and most precious of her family for a long, long time. Emilia had long since been fussed over, so much so that even a tiny cut she had obtained from accidentally brushing a sharper shard of granite would result in at least half a dozen servants tending to her. Persephone and Minas would like to have raised a tougher girl of course, but it seems that most of the level headed genes had went to her elder sister.
Not to say Emilia hasn't done her fair share of growing up of late however.
While she had the first instinct for tears to fall, as she picked herself up in time to watch Meilin hit the ball to another on the other side of the field, the princess also realized she was going to have to figure something out herself. In a game like this, she can't be a deadweight - just like how she was trying not to be useless to her sister and father. She's got a steep learning curve now, but the least she could do is try not to get in everyone else's way, right?
As she noticed the ball being tossed directly in her direction, Emilia was quick to roll out of the way as Lesley lunged to the front of her to intercept. Scrambling to her feet and dusting herself off in the process, it took a sparse few minutes for the brunette to notice how no one was allowing the ball near her.
Which was fine by her, really. She had gotten it in her head that Emilia would be far more useful trying to stay out of everyone's way, so that was exactly what she'd do, trying to stay behind the stronger players so even if the other team tried to aim the ball at her, there would at least be someone nearby to grab the ball.
Well, could be worse, Lesley reflected sourly as the game progressed. Emilia had picked herself up even though her first instinct had been not to, and after the first collision she'd at least shown some situational awareness. Meilin wasn't playing anywhere on the level of the men, but she was at least trying. Easy to guess which one of them had run around playing sports as a child, even if just with other girls, and which had not. The first point was scored against him, as an opponent crossed the line to tackle him just as he lunged for the ball. He went down hard with a sharp yelp - but Les knew how to fall well. Landing completely flat except for his head was just as safe as rolling correctly, except for the risk of having the air knocked out of your lungs - but landing with empty lungs prevented that. He brought his knees up sharply, but slightly too slow, catching the other man in the crotch rather than the gut, which made it a bit more awkward to throw him off. That, obviously, upset his friend, and it turned into a bit of a tussle, which ended with Lesley on top despite the disadvantage of wearing a tunic.
He punched the other man square in the face. "Enough."
"Enough yourself, Lesley," commented one of the poor fellow's teammates. "Pretty sure that was uncalled for."
"Rules don't say I can't," the retarius retorted as he jumped to his feet, then reached down a hand to help his friend to his feet, and slapped him on the shoulder. "Here, pass me that ball. Good job, Meilin. Emilia -"
"You gonna pay attention this time?" demanded one of his own teammates. "Either play or coach."
Lesley pitched the ball straight at the man's face, which he instinctively batted across the line, and the game was on again.
For all that these men got into fights as easily as breathing, and with as little thought, the game really was less violent than many of the others they played. The girls got shoved here and there, but nothing worse than that, and the ball itself didn't leave bruises when it hit, though it certainly stung. Lesley deliberately passed to Emilia a couple times, once he thought she'd had enough time to figure out how the game was played, and spiked it straight at Mei once, then once he'd called the next point, he beckoned for the two girls to come over to a quieter corner of the arena and left the other gladiators to their own devices.
"All right. You're both warmed up I bet, give yourself a bit of a stretch and shake your joints loose. Unlike that lot you won't get a warmup in a real fight if you ever get one - but there's no point in pulling a muscle today." He grinned at them both. "Let's see, where are we starting. Either of you ever have occasion to knee a boy in the nuts?" He didn't expect Emeilia ever to have done such a thing. The commoner girl, though, you never knew. "Okay listen. There's no way I'm turning either of you into a soldier or gladiator, and I'm not going to try. But I am going to start with some basics that you aren't likely to ever use. They're still important. They'll teach your body to move in certain ways, build strength and reflexes." He gestured at the gladiators chasing after the ball on the other side of the arena. "We don't just play ball games because gladiators are basically just rambunctious puppies who start biting things when we don't get enough exercise." He grinned again, clearly comfortable laughing at himself.
"Meilin, you got some good hits in there, I'd criticize if I was trying to turn you into a league player, but I liked that you didn't flinch and you didn't get discouraged. You're not likely to ever run into anyone who really wants to kill you, so attitude is going to count for a lot. A man who's after your coin or your virtue, mostly you just got to convince him it's not worth the effort." He turned to his other student with less praise, though still not any spoken criticism. "Emilia, your situation is different, just being difficult to restrain probably won't be enough - though I can't promise you'll never find yourself in a situation where a knee to the balls is the wrong response. But today you two will just be wresting. I'm going to teach you the basic grapples, and then I'll show you how to break out of someone's grip. Your best reaction, both of you, is get free and run. Only ever fight someone stronger than you if you have no choice."
He rolled his shoulders and grinned at them again. "Any questions?"
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Well, could be worse, Lesley reflected sourly as the game progressed. Emilia had picked herself up even though her first instinct had been not to, and after the first collision she'd at least shown some situational awareness. Meilin wasn't playing anywhere on the level of the men, but she was at least trying. Easy to guess which one of them had run around playing sports as a child, even if just with other girls, and which had not. The first point was scored against him, as an opponent crossed the line to tackle him just as he lunged for the ball. He went down hard with a sharp yelp - but Les knew how to fall well. Landing completely flat except for his head was just as safe as rolling correctly, except for the risk of having the air knocked out of your lungs - but landing with empty lungs prevented that. He brought his knees up sharply, but slightly too slow, catching the other man in the crotch rather than the gut, which made it a bit more awkward to throw him off. That, obviously, upset his friend, and it turned into a bit of a tussle, which ended with Lesley on top despite the disadvantage of wearing a tunic.
He punched the other man square in the face. "Enough."
"Enough yourself, Lesley," commented one of the poor fellow's teammates. "Pretty sure that was uncalled for."
"Rules don't say I can't," the retarius retorted as he jumped to his feet, then reached down a hand to help his friend to his feet, and slapped him on the shoulder. "Here, pass me that ball. Good job, Meilin. Emilia -"
"You gonna pay attention this time?" demanded one of his own teammates. "Either play or coach."
Lesley pitched the ball straight at the man's face, which he instinctively batted across the line, and the game was on again.
For all that these men got into fights as easily as breathing, and with as little thought, the game really was less violent than many of the others they played. The girls got shoved here and there, but nothing worse than that, and the ball itself didn't leave bruises when it hit, though it certainly stung. Lesley deliberately passed to Emilia a couple times, once he thought she'd had enough time to figure out how the game was played, and spiked it straight at Mei once, then once he'd called the next point, he beckoned for the two girls to come over to a quieter corner of the arena and left the other gladiators to their own devices.
"All right. You're both warmed up I bet, give yourself a bit of a stretch and shake your joints loose. Unlike that lot you won't get a warmup in a real fight if you ever get one - but there's no point in pulling a muscle today." He grinned at them both. "Let's see, where are we starting. Either of you ever have occasion to knee a boy in the nuts?" He didn't expect Emeilia ever to have done such a thing. The commoner girl, though, you never knew. "Okay listen. There's no way I'm turning either of you into a soldier or gladiator, and I'm not going to try. But I am going to start with some basics that you aren't likely to ever use. They're still important. They'll teach your body to move in certain ways, build strength and reflexes." He gestured at the gladiators chasing after the ball on the other side of the arena. "We don't just play ball games because gladiators are basically just rambunctious puppies who start biting things when we don't get enough exercise." He grinned again, clearly comfortable laughing at himself.
"Meilin, you got some good hits in there, I'd criticize if I was trying to turn you into a league player, but I liked that you didn't flinch and you didn't get discouraged. You're not likely to ever run into anyone who really wants to kill you, so attitude is going to count for a lot. A man who's after your coin or your virtue, mostly you just got to convince him it's not worth the effort." He turned to his other student with less praise, though still not any spoken criticism. "Emilia, your situation is different, just being difficult to restrain probably won't be enough - though I can't promise you'll never find yourself in a situation where a knee to the balls is the wrong response. But today you two will just be wresting. I'm going to teach you the basic grapples, and then I'll show you how to break out of someone's grip. Your best reaction, both of you, is get free and run. Only ever fight someone stronger than you if you have no choice."
He rolled his shoulders and grinned at them again. "Any questions?"
Well, could be worse, Lesley reflected sourly as the game progressed. Emilia had picked herself up even though her first instinct had been not to, and after the first collision she'd at least shown some situational awareness. Meilin wasn't playing anywhere on the level of the men, but she was at least trying. Easy to guess which one of them had run around playing sports as a child, even if just with other girls, and which had not. The first point was scored against him, as an opponent crossed the line to tackle him just as he lunged for the ball. He went down hard with a sharp yelp - but Les knew how to fall well. Landing completely flat except for his head was just as safe as rolling correctly, except for the risk of having the air knocked out of your lungs - but landing with empty lungs prevented that. He brought his knees up sharply, but slightly too slow, catching the other man in the crotch rather than the gut, which made it a bit more awkward to throw him off. That, obviously, upset his friend, and it turned into a bit of a tussle, which ended with Lesley on top despite the disadvantage of wearing a tunic.
He punched the other man square in the face. "Enough."
"Enough yourself, Lesley," commented one of the poor fellow's teammates. "Pretty sure that was uncalled for."
"Rules don't say I can't," the retarius retorted as he jumped to his feet, then reached down a hand to help his friend to his feet, and slapped him on the shoulder. "Here, pass me that ball. Good job, Meilin. Emilia -"
"You gonna pay attention this time?" demanded one of his own teammates. "Either play or coach."
Lesley pitched the ball straight at the man's face, which he instinctively batted across the line, and the game was on again.
For all that these men got into fights as easily as breathing, and with as little thought, the game really was less violent than many of the others they played. The girls got shoved here and there, but nothing worse than that, and the ball itself didn't leave bruises when it hit, though it certainly stung. Lesley deliberately passed to Emilia a couple times, once he thought she'd had enough time to figure out how the game was played, and spiked it straight at Mei once, then once he'd called the next point, he beckoned for the two girls to come over to a quieter corner of the arena and left the other gladiators to their own devices.
"All right. You're both warmed up I bet, give yourself a bit of a stretch and shake your joints loose. Unlike that lot you won't get a warmup in a real fight if you ever get one - but there's no point in pulling a muscle today." He grinned at them both. "Let's see, where are we starting. Either of you ever have occasion to knee a boy in the nuts?" He didn't expect Emeilia ever to have done such a thing. The commoner girl, though, you never knew. "Okay listen. There's no way I'm turning either of you into a soldier or gladiator, and I'm not going to try. But I am going to start with some basics that you aren't likely to ever use. They're still important. They'll teach your body to move in certain ways, build strength and reflexes." He gestured at the gladiators chasing after the ball on the other side of the arena. "We don't just play ball games because gladiators are basically just rambunctious puppies who start biting things when we don't get enough exercise." He grinned again, clearly comfortable laughing at himself.
"Meilin, you got some good hits in there, I'd criticize if I was trying to turn you into a league player, but I liked that you didn't flinch and you didn't get discouraged. You're not likely to ever run into anyone who really wants to kill you, so attitude is going to count for a lot. A man who's after your coin or your virtue, mostly you just got to convince him it's not worth the effort." He turned to his other student with less praise, though still not any spoken criticism. "Emilia, your situation is different, just being difficult to restrain probably won't be enough - though I can't promise you'll never find yourself in a situation where a knee to the balls is the wrong response. But today you two will just be wresting. I'm going to teach you the basic grapples, and then I'll show you how to break out of someone's grip. Your best reaction, both of you, is get free and run. Only ever fight someone stronger than you if you have no choice."
He rolled his shoulders and grinned at them again. "Any questions?"
Lesley's spike made her wrists sting from trying to counter it, and though the ball glanced a tad off trajectory as a result, she sourly supposed that, well, it could have been worse. One of the men on her side was quick to follow up and with that Meilin took her attention of the ball long enough to inspect her hands. Angry red patches where the burn of impact had yet to fade away, and these men hit hard. Aristodeme hit hard, too, but even then she had never made a sound like a cannon blast each time she tried for a spike. She could only be grateful that those spikes weren't aimed towards her, at least.
By the time Lesley had called for the game to come to a close, Meilin had thoroughly forgotten it was supposed to be a mere warmup. Chest heaving slightly, the soaked-through back of her tunic clinging to her skin, she ran mildly shaking fingers through her dark hair, feeling the heat of her scalp on her fingertips. Once it was just her and Emilia ensnared in Lesley's gaze in a quieter corner of the Arcus, she turned wary eyes towards her mentor. The not-quite-praise, nevertheless, made her stand straighter, her chin tilting up just the slightest (hey, at least she seemed to have fared better than the Princess. It would be tragic not to, in any case). Meilin couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit competitive each time she was forced into such a situation with other girls (or boys), but now they were on the same boat and she supposed she should put her pride aside to learn something new.
When Lesley asked if any of them had a chance to kneed a man in his guts, she couldn't help but pull a face. "There was a certain thief," she began with a slight edge to her words. "I would have kneed him in the guts, but he was fast." She didn't find it necessary to mention that she had gotten her stolen item back (though really, it had been his mercy that won it back over, rather than her own physical prowess or intimidation). Her gaze flicked to Emilia briefly. The princess had likely never had to chase robbers on her own before, having had a whole slew of guards at her beck and call all her life.
"How would breaking free work if he had me in a chokehold?" Meilin raised the question with a frown, absently flexing her fingers. "If he were much heavier than I am, and faster, and if I weren't able to reach his groin or face?"
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Lesley's spike made her wrists sting from trying to counter it, and though the ball glanced a tad off trajectory as a result, she sourly supposed that, well, it could have been worse. One of the men on her side was quick to follow up and with that Meilin took her attention of the ball long enough to inspect her hands. Angry red patches where the burn of impact had yet to fade away, and these men hit hard. Aristodeme hit hard, too, but even then she had never made a sound like a cannon blast each time she tried for a spike. She could only be grateful that those spikes weren't aimed towards her, at least.
By the time Lesley had called for the game to come to a close, Meilin had thoroughly forgotten it was supposed to be a mere warmup. Chest heaving slightly, the soaked-through back of her tunic clinging to her skin, she ran mildly shaking fingers through her dark hair, feeling the heat of her scalp on her fingertips. Once it was just her and Emilia ensnared in Lesley's gaze in a quieter corner of the Arcus, she turned wary eyes towards her mentor. The not-quite-praise, nevertheless, made her stand straighter, her chin tilting up just the slightest (hey, at least she seemed to have fared better than the Princess. It would be tragic not to, in any case). Meilin couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit competitive each time she was forced into such a situation with other girls (or boys), but now they were on the same boat and she supposed she should put her pride aside to learn something new.
When Lesley asked if any of them had a chance to kneed a man in his guts, she couldn't help but pull a face. "There was a certain thief," she began with a slight edge to her words. "I would have kneed him in the guts, but he was fast." She didn't find it necessary to mention that she had gotten her stolen item back (though really, it had been his mercy that won it back over, rather than her own physical prowess or intimidation). Her gaze flicked to Emilia briefly. The princess had likely never had to chase robbers on her own before, having had a whole slew of guards at her beck and call all her life.
"How would breaking free work if he had me in a chokehold?" Meilin raised the question with a frown, absently flexing her fingers. "If he were much heavier than I am, and faster, and if I weren't able to reach his groin or face?"
Lesley's spike made her wrists sting from trying to counter it, and though the ball glanced a tad off trajectory as a result, she sourly supposed that, well, it could have been worse. One of the men on her side was quick to follow up and with that Meilin took her attention of the ball long enough to inspect her hands. Angry red patches where the burn of impact had yet to fade away, and these men hit hard. Aristodeme hit hard, too, but even then she had never made a sound like a cannon blast each time she tried for a spike. She could only be grateful that those spikes weren't aimed towards her, at least.
By the time Lesley had called for the game to come to a close, Meilin had thoroughly forgotten it was supposed to be a mere warmup. Chest heaving slightly, the soaked-through back of her tunic clinging to her skin, she ran mildly shaking fingers through her dark hair, feeling the heat of her scalp on her fingertips. Once it was just her and Emilia ensnared in Lesley's gaze in a quieter corner of the Arcus, she turned wary eyes towards her mentor. The not-quite-praise, nevertheless, made her stand straighter, her chin tilting up just the slightest (hey, at least she seemed to have fared better than the Princess. It would be tragic not to, in any case). Meilin couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit competitive each time she was forced into such a situation with other girls (or boys), but now they were on the same boat and she supposed she should put her pride aside to learn something new.
When Lesley asked if any of them had a chance to kneed a man in his guts, she couldn't help but pull a face. "There was a certain thief," she began with a slight edge to her words. "I would have kneed him in the guts, but he was fast." She didn't find it necessary to mention that she had gotten her stolen item back (though really, it had been his mercy that won it back over, rather than her own physical prowess or intimidation). Her gaze flicked to Emilia briefly. The princess had likely never had to chase robbers on her own before, having had a whole slew of guards at her beck and call all her life.
"How would breaking free work if he had me in a chokehold?" Meilin raised the question with a frown, absently flexing her fingers. "If he were much heavier than I am, and faster, and if I weren't able to reach his groin or face?"
Much akin a wide eyed deer as she watched the interactions between the men, Emilia watched silently as the tussle was over as quickly as it started on the ground, while a part of her inside rebelled against the idea of such dust staining her outfits. The few times Emilia had touched the ground, she had quickly been helped up by slaves or handmaidens, and the idea of rolling in such filth had a shiver running down her spine, not from disgust, purely because that had never been the way she had been brought up. She wasn't looking down on anyone, that just had never been her life.
Surreptiously moving backwards when Lesley threw the ball again, as the game continued, Emilia did her best to stayed out of the way, hurriedly passing the ball out of her hands the few times her new bodyguard insisted it get tossed to her.
By the time he called the game to be over, her sigh of relief was almost palpable as she jogged up to him, the light sheen of sweat and the way the stray strands of her hair stuck to her forehead almost a foreign feeling to the princess so used to the finer things in life. The word 'warmed up' would've brought a laugh to her lips had she not feel so completely worn out, Emilia could've sworn she could've taken a nap till the next day at this point. Never had she felt such a desperate need for a bath.
But it appeared Lesley wasn't done yet. She almost groaned when she heard of what her bodyguard had planned for the day - she wasn't trainned for this! The last time one of her guards had tried to train her, Emilia had almost kneed him in the nuts and more, from five paces away from him. With horrible hand-eye coordination and a clumsiness she wasn't sure which parent she had inherited from (cause obviously Persephone had none), Emilia had long since been written off as a hopeless case for self defense, and it was why she often had a half dozen guards - because she was a danger to herself sometimes.
Finally perking up enough to listen to just the last part of Lesley's instructions, Emilia raised a brow at his description, and then blinked blankly as he finished off. She turned to Meilin, the girl obviously far better equipped at this then Emilia was, with the questions she asked. The princess was merely at the level where she could only shake her head, hoping she had some far gone, lost human instinct that could help her through this.
Luckily, much of the lesson that followed was largely Emilia watching as Lesley demonstrated, and while she was asked to follow and practice as well, Emilia's form meant she could only do so much. By the time she was allowed to return, sleep had been quick to claim her, the first time in a long time since Persephone's departure that the young princess could have a deep sleep undisturbed by nightmares.
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Much akin a wide eyed deer as she watched the interactions between the men, Emilia watched silently as the tussle was over as quickly as it started on the ground, while a part of her inside rebelled against the idea of such dust staining her outfits. The few times Emilia had touched the ground, she had quickly been helped up by slaves or handmaidens, and the idea of rolling in such filth had a shiver running down her spine, not from disgust, purely because that had never been the way she had been brought up. She wasn't looking down on anyone, that just had never been her life.
Surreptiously moving backwards when Lesley threw the ball again, as the game continued, Emilia did her best to stayed out of the way, hurriedly passing the ball out of her hands the few times her new bodyguard insisted it get tossed to her.
By the time he called the game to be over, her sigh of relief was almost palpable as she jogged up to him, the light sheen of sweat and the way the stray strands of her hair stuck to her forehead almost a foreign feeling to the princess so used to the finer things in life. The word 'warmed up' would've brought a laugh to her lips had she not feel so completely worn out, Emilia could've sworn she could've taken a nap till the next day at this point. Never had she felt such a desperate need for a bath.
But it appeared Lesley wasn't done yet. She almost groaned when she heard of what her bodyguard had planned for the day - she wasn't trainned for this! The last time one of her guards had tried to train her, Emilia had almost kneed him in the nuts and more, from five paces away from him. With horrible hand-eye coordination and a clumsiness she wasn't sure which parent she had inherited from (cause obviously Persephone had none), Emilia had long since been written off as a hopeless case for self defense, and it was why she often had a half dozen guards - because she was a danger to herself sometimes.
Finally perking up enough to listen to just the last part of Lesley's instructions, Emilia raised a brow at his description, and then blinked blankly as he finished off. She turned to Meilin, the girl obviously far better equipped at this then Emilia was, with the questions she asked. The princess was merely at the level where she could only shake her head, hoping she had some far gone, lost human instinct that could help her through this.
Luckily, much of the lesson that followed was largely Emilia watching as Lesley demonstrated, and while she was asked to follow and practice as well, Emilia's form meant she could only do so much. By the time she was allowed to return, sleep had been quick to claim her, the first time in a long time since Persephone's departure that the young princess could have a deep sleep undisturbed by nightmares.
Much akin a wide eyed deer as she watched the interactions between the men, Emilia watched silently as the tussle was over as quickly as it started on the ground, while a part of her inside rebelled against the idea of such dust staining her outfits. The few times Emilia had touched the ground, she had quickly been helped up by slaves or handmaidens, and the idea of rolling in such filth had a shiver running down her spine, not from disgust, purely because that had never been the way she had been brought up. She wasn't looking down on anyone, that just had never been her life.
Surreptiously moving backwards when Lesley threw the ball again, as the game continued, Emilia did her best to stayed out of the way, hurriedly passing the ball out of her hands the few times her new bodyguard insisted it get tossed to her.
By the time he called the game to be over, her sigh of relief was almost palpable as she jogged up to him, the light sheen of sweat and the way the stray strands of her hair stuck to her forehead almost a foreign feeling to the princess so used to the finer things in life. The word 'warmed up' would've brought a laugh to her lips had she not feel so completely worn out, Emilia could've sworn she could've taken a nap till the next day at this point. Never had she felt such a desperate need for a bath.
But it appeared Lesley wasn't done yet. She almost groaned when she heard of what her bodyguard had planned for the day - she wasn't trainned for this! The last time one of her guards had tried to train her, Emilia had almost kneed him in the nuts and more, from five paces away from him. With horrible hand-eye coordination and a clumsiness she wasn't sure which parent she had inherited from (cause obviously Persephone had none), Emilia had long since been written off as a hopeless case for self defense, and it was why she often had a half dozen guards - because she was a danger to herself sometimes.
Finally perking up enough to listen to just the last part of Lesley's instructions, Emilia raised a brow at his description, and then blinked blankly as he finished off. She turned to Meilin, the girl obviously far better equipped at this then Emilia was, with the questions she asked. The princess was merely at the level where she could only shake her head, hoping she had some far gone, lost human instinct that could help her through this.
Luckily, much of the lesson that followed was largely Emilia watching as Lesley demonstrated, and while she was asked to follow and practice as well, Emilia's form meant she could only do so much. By the time she was allowed to return, sleep had been quick to claim her, the first time in a long time since Persephone's departure that the young princess could have a deep sleep undisturbed by nightmares.