[He's really got his number, hasn't he? It's kind of difficult to stay on task being called out like that. But he does- as best he can anyway- attempting to shrug it off.]
No better defence than offence.
[Probably a mistake. No, definately a mistake. Focusing more on a response than the way he was moving means a faceful of sparks from the both of the weapons, something not enough to hurt- not really hurt anyway, but something which interferes with his vision, something that alters his balance, something that has him vulnerable.
And yeah. That shove works well to exploit that weakness. It forces him off-balance, staggers him, and his instinct is to cover it in whatever way he could. Which is not what he knows to do- to put distance between them and move right into a bladebeam and collect himself while Sephiroth deals with that- it's to spin on one foot and launch himself into an overhead chop, the still hot blade gripped at the handle in both hands, his aim... not exactly true. Sparks to the face and all.]
[It’s true, it would have been wiser to put space between them. Sephiroth’s opponents need to allow themselves room to breathe or recoup, otherwise he will not relent, except in moments where he allows it. Again, sparring sessions like these always devolve into some mild form of amusement for him, one of the few activities that he can enjoy himself in, even if it’s utterly nerve-wracking for his partner.
So when Cloud’s sword comes careening down, so obviously about to miss its mark, Sephiroth doesn’t do more than twist his body as it lands inches away from his boots. Dirt kicks up, spraying in all directions, and the ground shudders under the assault.]
One strategy isn’t enough. [A SOLDIER needs multiple. A SOLDIER needs to adapt. In all of his years of training, he has learned how to judge the flow of battle, how to pinpoint weak spots in those who seem overconfident in their own skill. Cloud does not appear overconfident, but he does seem over-reliant on pure strength. Just ask the earth beneath their feet.]
What if an opponent is faster than you?
[Cloud’s going to have trouble countering if he’s trying to heft his sword back up, and Sephiroth takes that into account. His next assault is a series of— no, not eight strikes. He doesn’t want to kill him. But four, in quick succession, a flurry almost impossible to track with the eye. He’s making a point.]
Then I'll slow them down. Take out their legs, or something. Usually works.
[...Well, it was true. In his experience, usually using the flat of the weapon to crush kneecaps usually did the trick, be his target bipedal or not.
Yet he can't speak an answer. He's too pressed. Sephiroth's mentality with all of this seems less Harpy and more cat- his amusement is felt, but it never really overtakes some strange emotion- something akin to fear, which only grows, the more and more Sephiroth seems to be taking pleasure in his growing strain.
It's got to be past two minutes by now. It has to be- but like answering Sephiroth's simple question, he can't exactly check. He can't even ask, as busy as he is pulling the blade from where it's well and truly wedged in the earth- let alone making any kind of attempt to dodge any of those four strikes, while still keeping his hand on the blade's hilt.
Honestly, the plan went out the window some time ago. Probably at his mistake of pressing an attack earlier. He's paying for it- and he'll probably spend time paying for it, even after the blade's removed from the ground.]
[That cinches it, is the proverbial nail in the coffin. If one does not account for the weaknesses in their strategy, it will be pointed out to them by their opponent, whether by error or by blood drawn. Sephiroth is not a cruel man (yet), but he is a militaristic one, trained to beat down the rough edges of imperfection until there is nothing left but refined, impeccable instinct. He sees nothing but rough edges in Cloud — he feels the need to destroy them, for his sake.
It may be a lesson harshly learned, but it’s for his own good.
Though Masamune’s edge whispers near, threatening to glance clothing, skin, or whatever resistence Cloud manages to dredge up in his attempt to unearth his sword from the ground, one strike will meet its mark. The steel tip pierces through skin, an admittedly shallow wound, given just how badly a sword like Sephiroth’s could bury itself into the body. He purposefully chooses a benign spot around the torso, skewing towards Cloud’s side; this doesn’t change the fact that it probably hurts, probably spills more red when he draws the blade away.
To the SOLDIER’s credit, his smile does fade at the edges. The tip of his weapon shines crimson, which is signal enough to stop.]
Time’s up. [Give or take a few liberal seconds.] I’ve seen all I wanted.
[It's unexpected, this pain that makes his vision double, but the way every muscle in his body tightens in shock isn't exactly something he hasn't felt before. He knows this feeling, it's something that'll stay with him for the rest of his life. But it's different, too.
He's expecting Sephiroth to brace, to shove the greatkatana all the way out of his other side, but he doesn't. Instead, he scrapes it to the side in a long, deliberate cut- shallow but painful- and honestly, it's only his own sudden jolt to the side, reactionary of course, that makes the cut crooked. Pain gives him the strength to allow him to wrench the sword from the ground- to turn and to hold the sword above Sephiroth's head as if to strike- but he teeters, sword careening to the side where it's tossed with a loud clang.
His hands move to his side. It's shallow, but that doesn't mean it's not bleeding like a bitch. He's certain it's no accident. Sephiroth didn't have accidents. But he's also certain that if he wanted it to be worse, it would be worse. Much worse.]
Shit.
[Press harder. Press harder. And behind gitted teeth.]
...That some kind of learning experience? Or how you vent out stress?
[Just a scrape, Cloud. Were his materia more than just useless spheres now, he might even be generous enough to cast a healing spell in his direction. But the point is moot, and the wound is purposefully shallow, so despite the pain and the blood, he knows it’s nothing critical.
He doesn’t so much as react when Cloud’s weapon is swung high over his head, only to clatter unceremoniously to the ground.]
I was seeking an answer to something. I have it now.
[Sephiroth gestures to the other with his free hand, knowing it would be useless to wait for the hot flash of pain to subside. He merely continues.]
But as for you… consider this an incentive to improve.
[That's for sure. The fact he can stand is proof of that. It's a lesson- something most would likely see as a cruel one, but something he knows to be just... an incentive. To not screw up again. He doesn't have to be SOLDIER to know that.
...And lesson learned.
He drags himself to pick up his sword, grimacing faintly at the effort needed to pick it up and put it back on his harness, but he doesn't say anything. Of course not. He doesn't want pity, and he's certain Sephiroth wouldn't be inclined to give it.]
Feel like letting me know what you were after?
[Spoken as he's straightening himself up again.]
It's not like it's your job to help me. ...But I want to improve. If you're up for it, next time you'll get more of a fight.
[When he’s more inclined to have that conversation, and when Cloud isn’t bleeding out from a minor injury. He watches as the man slowly hefts his weapon up to attach it to his back, considering the offer, and Sephiroth angles Masamune vertically behind his shoulder, as well, as if to signal the end of it.
It doesn’t take much thought to accept Cloud’s implied offer.]
However, if you want to train to improve, you only need to ask me. I would rather put my idle time to good use.
[That and Cloud is his bonded, a man with whom he’s built up a small amount of rapport. There is a faint, friendly obligation, though he does not say as much.]
[That's all that there is to say, isn't it? It's not like he's still unsure of the man. It'd been long enough to know that he wasn't exactly his enemy. Hence agreeing to this in the first place, much less his behaviour around him. There's simply no reason to be curt.]
...Thanks. If you want anything in return, [...Anything he could provide, anyway.] then let me know.
[And.]
I can get myself back from here. I'll see you in a couple days.
[Anything in return? People keep offering that to him, keep checking on him. It's still a strange notion, as if the statement is always spoken in a foreign tongue.
Still, he's learned to accept it as the reality, and responds only with resigned acceptance rather than outright denial any longer.]
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No better defence than offence.
[Probably a mistake. No, definately a mistake. Focusing more on a response than the way he was moving means a faceful of sparks from the both of the weapons, something not enough to hurt- not really hurt anyway, but something which interferes with his vision, something that alters his balance, something that has him vulnerable.
And yeah. That shove works well to exploit that weakness. It forces him off-balance, staggers him, and his instinct is to cover it in whatever way he could. Which is not what he knows to do- to put distance between them and move right into a bladebeam and collect himself while Sephiroth deals with that- it's to spin on one foot and launch himself into an overhead chop, the still hot blade gripped at the handle in both hands, his aim... not exactly true. Sparks to the face and all.]
no subject
So when Cloud’s sword comes careening down, so obviously about to miss its mark, Sephiroth doesn’t do more than twist his body as it lands inches away from his boots. Dirt kicks up, spraying in all directions, and the ground shudders under the assault.]
One strategy isn’t enough. [A SOLDIER needs multiple. A SOLDIER needs to adapt. In all of his years of training, he has learned how to judge the flow of battle, how to pinpoint weak spots in those who seem overconfident in their own skill. Cloud does not appear overconfident, but he does seem over-reliant on pure strength. Just ask the earth beneath their feet.]
What if an opponent is faster than you?
[Cloud’s going to have trouble countering if he’s trying to heft his sword back up, and Sephiroth takes that into account. His next assault is a series of— no, not eight strikes. He doesn’t want to kill him. But four, in quick succession, a flurry almost impossible to track with the eye. He’s making a point.]
no subject
[...Well, it was true. In his experience, usually using the flat of the weapon to crush kneecaps usually did the trick, be his target bipedal or not.
Yet he can't speak an answer. He's too pressed. Sephiroth's mentality with all of this seems less Harpy and more cat- his amusement is felt, but it never really overtakes some strange emotion- something akin to fear, which only grows, the more and more Sephiroth seems to be taking pleasure in his growing strain.
It's got to be past two minutes by now. It has to be- but like answering Sephiroth's simple question, he can't exactly check. He can't even ask, as busy as he is pulling the blade from where it's well and truly wedged in the earth- let alone making any kind of attempt to dodge any of those four strikes, while still keeping his hand on the blade's hilt.
Honestly, the plan went out the window some time ago. Probably at his mistake of pressing an attack earlier. He's paying for it- and he'll probably spend time paying for it, even after the blade's removed from the ground.]
no subject
It may be a lesson harshly learned, but it’s for his own good.
Though Masamune’s edge whispers near, threatening to glance clothing, skin, or whatever resistence Cloud manages to dredge up in his attempt to unearth his sword from the ground, one strike will meet its mark. The steel tip pierces through skin, an admittedly shallow wound, given just how badly a sword like Sephiroth’s could bury itself into the body. He purposefully chooses a benign spot around the torso, skewing towards Cloud’s side; this doesn’t change the fact that it probably hurts, probably spills more red when he draws the blade away.
To the SOLDIER’s credit, his smile does fade at the edges. The tip of his weapon shines crimson, which is signal enough to stop.]
Time’s up. [Give or take a few liberal seconds.] I’ve seen all I wanted.
no subject
[It's unexpected, this pain that makes his vision double, but the way every muscle in his body tightens in shock isn't exactly something he hasn't felt before. He knows this feeling, it's something that'll stay with him for the rest of his life. But it's different, too.
He's expecting Sephiroth to brace, to shove the greatkatana all the way out of his other side, but he doesn't. Instead, he scrapes it to the side in a long, deliberate cut- shallow but painful- and honestly, it's only his own sudden jolt to the side, reactionary of course, that makes the cut crooked. Pain gives him the strength to allow him to wrench the sword from the ground- to turn and to hold the sword above Sephiroth's head as if to strike- but he teeters, sword careening to the side where it's tossed with a loud clang.
His hands move to his side. It's shallow, but that doesn't mean it's not bleeding like a bitch. He's certain it's no accident. Sephiroth didn't have accidents. But he's also certain that if he wanted it to be worse, it would be worse. Much worse.]
Shit.
[Press harder. Press harder. And behind gitted teeth.]
...That some kind of learning experience? Or how you vent out stress?
[Just a scrape. Just a scrape.]
no subject
He doesn’t so much as react when Cloud’s weapon is swung high over his head, only to clatter unceremoniously to the ground.]
I was seeking an answer to something. I have it now.
[Sephiroth gestures to the other with his free hand, knowing it would be useless to wait for the hot flash of pain to subside. He merely continues.]
But as for you… consider this an incentive to improve.
no subject
...And lesson learned.
He drags himself to pick up his sword, grimacing faintly at the effort needed to pick it up and put it back on his harness, but he doesn't say anything. Of course not. He doesn't want pity, and he's certain Sephiroth wouldn't be inclined to give it.]
Feel like letting me know what you were after?
[Spoken as he's straightening himself up again.]
It's not like it's your job to help me. ...But I want to improve. If you're up for it, next time you'll get more of a fight.
no subject
[When he’s more inclined to have that conversation, and when Cloud isn’t bleeding out from a minor injury. He watches as the man slowly hefts his weapon up to attach it to his back, considering the offer, and Sephiroth angles Masamune vertically behind his shoulder, as well, as if to signal the end of it.
It doesn’t take much thought to accept Cloud’s implied offer.]
However, if you want to train to improve, you only need to ask me. I would rather put my idle time to good use.
[That and Cloud is his bonded, a man with whom he’s built up a small amount of rapport. There is a faint, friendly obligation, though he does not say as much.]
no subject
[That's all that there is to say, isn't it? It's not like he's still unsure of the man. It'd been long enough to know that he wasn't exactly his enemy. Hence agreeing to this in the first place, much less his behaviour around him. There's simply no reason to be curt.]
...Thanks. If you want anything in return, [...Anything he could provide, anyway.] then let me know.
[And.]
I can get myself back from here. I'll see you in a couple days.
no subject
Still, he's learned to accept it as the reality, and responds only with resigned acceptance rather than outright denial any longer.]
I'll be sure to.
[Before Cloud goes, he makes certain to add-]
Find a healer. Don't let your wound fester.