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When one doesn't have a salle, one is at the mercy of the weather, which at the moment is pretty bad. Summer has pronounced itself over, and the falling rain this morning is chilly, an extension of last night's downpour. It has been raining off and on since last night, and great mud puddles cover a good portion of the festival grounds. About the only place that is safe to work here is on the benches themselves, and that's exactly what Seldan is doing. Stripped to shirt, trousers and boots, blade out and in his hand, he appears to be doing footwork exercises made tricky by working in a narrow space. A good exercise, if an unusual one.

Malik apparently had the same idea, given that he shows up in the same spot, in much the same gear. A loose-fitting shirt that's already damp from the downpour, and a soft pair of boots that look easy to move in. There's a sword strapped to his side, a straight-bladed weapon that looks practical, if not overly decorative. He shakes the water out of his hair, stepping into the narrow space that Seldan is already occupying, steps stopping a bit short as he sees the other man there. "Starting to think that we're just destined to keep running into each other," he tells the myrrish man, watching as he practices that difficult footwork.

Reva makes her way through the rain across the Festival Grounds, and towards the benches where Seldan is training. She looks over the other two fellows, and says, "Well. Great minds thinnk alike, then." She's at least dressed for the weather, though her hat and coat are damp from the wet, she doesn't appear chilled. She pulls her coat open to show the fancy hilt of her own sword, and she says, "I think perhaps I will wait until you two finish. Or were you sparring together?"

If Malik is damp, Seldan is positively drenched, suggesting that he's been out here for some time. Shirt, trousers, and hair alike are plastered to his body, revealing a toned but wiry rather than massive frame. He wipes droplets from his forehead and lowers his blade, chest heaving enough to add to the image that he's been at this for a while, long enough that he isn't chilled, either. Not yet. "No, not yet. Good morn, Malik, and ... I do not believe we have met," he adds to Reva in a voice with a thick Myrrish accent. Instead, he sheathes the blade and hops down from the bench. "Seldan Padaryn of the Silver Guard, my lady."

Malik looks over to the newwcomer when he hears her voice, nodding a polite greeting. Seldan has already made his introduction for him, so there's no need for him to repeat it. He watches the paladin as he goes to make the proper courtesies, though, unsheathing that thin blade of his and starting to work through a few warmup forms, the footwork practiced but by no means expert, and the swordwork suggesting that he's had formal training of some sort. The movements range from large and flourishing, to small adjustments that barely look like he did anything at all -- an eclectic mix of styles.

Reva bows her head to Seldan and Malik. "Reva Jormunreksfel," he says, voice and name both marking her as Stormgarder. "Of no organization in particular, unless you count the Explorers' Guild." She'll draw her own blade and roll her shoulders as she makes it comfortable in her grip. A few knee-bends, but mostly working where she stands, not wanting to claim any of the limited space. She got here last, after all.

"That is no mean thing, Reva. I have done work for the Guild as well." Seldan steps back to let the other two work. There are multiple benches around, many at the fringes of the festival grounds where spectators to competitions might sit, and he had appropriated one of these. It's a bit less messy there than on the field in the recent rain, being at higher ground and less deep dirt. Riding here would be out of the question today, so deep is the mud on the field proper.

Malik doesn't really use the bench, per se. He's rather fine being down in the mud, from the looks of it. He steps forward into a slide, thrusting the blade outward and then spinning it back up to a guard position over his shoulder before dropping down to one knee and swinging the blade in a wide arc before him. In a fight, he'd probably do decently against someone with only rudimentary training, but against many of those that practice here, he'd probably be little match. His style is calculated, but has a certain wildness in it that suggests fighting in a way that gets the job done, rather than going through the formal motions that some of the higher-born families might train in. "We've all got to make a living somehow," he grunts, not seeming to care that he's getting dirty. "Guild pays as well as anyone."

Reva draws her blade, which is quite ornate and also quite large and not particulalrly ladylike. A few slashes at the air to loosen up the arm, and then a thrust towards a post. She nods about the Guild, and will begin fencing in her own little area, her style controlled and precise despite the size of her sword. It's possibly a bit dramatic of a style, thrust, parry, riposte, remise, and she's by no means expert. But it's enough to best a drunken farmer or a dward who's had too much to drink, which had previously been most of her opponents.

Seldan watches the other two begin their workouts, wiping more rain from his face and eyes as he himself stands among the spectator benches. He's utterly drenched, shirt, trousers, and boots plastered to a wiry frame, and having hopped down from the bench, is swiftly becoming muddied as well. It has been raining off and on since last night, and the field proper is ankle-deep in mud. His own form had been that of the formal training, but from the look of him, he'd been at it for some time. Still, he does not yet look wearied, only wet. "Better than most," he agrees, stepping away to let the other two work.

Malik steps back to let Reva have her space, giving the woman ample room for the more acrobatic style that she adopts. He just rests the blade on his shoulder for a moment, watching her go through her forms as he occasionally looks over to Seldan. "Were all of your scrolls ok?" he asks the man, almost like it's an afterthought. "I should have asked last night. If anything is unworkable, I'll replace it."

Reva chuckles at making a living, and preens, just a bit, at Seldan's better-than-most comment. "Hopefully that's good enough. The Explorers don't get called for drunken farmers, alas, but for more stalwart threats. Which is why I train." Her tall boots are muddied past the ankle, but her footing is steadfast as she shadow-fences with that heavy sword past Malik, striking furiously at her imagined opponent. At the end of her series of attacks, she reverts to an on-guard position, blade pointed up vertically.

It's raining. Yep it surely is. Alaryn guides her wet and mildly miserable mules onto the fairgrounds, and those mules are dragging her wagon along. The wagon has a covering at least, and a slight awning covering the driver if the rain is falling straight down. The moment the wind blows it in an angle, the driver gets nice and wet.

But she -does- have a solution. She reaches the official 'festival' grounds where she had planned to set up shop. Sure, the rain has driven some folks away, but there -are- attendees around.

So she eases her wagon into her designated position and climbs down after stopping. She unhitches the mules and leads them around the far side of the wagon. There she does some working, banging, and finally activates a stud that extends an awning to cover the mules in the back. At the same time, her covered wagon lifts one side of the covering to extend it outward to be another awning that will provide cover for customers. This also reveals her plethora of random odds and ends, little trinkets and some useful items that she sells.

That done, she walks around to that side and begins studying the people in the area intently.

"Hm? The scrolls I truly needed were safe, Malik. Fret not. I do not miss the others." Seldan, although he speaks, appears to be watching not Malik's style, but the set of his shoulders and arms. Why isn't really clear, but he doesn't look away until something seems to satisfy him, and he nods as if to himself. "I train as well, in hopes that I may take on greater foes. Being outmatched is a dangerous thing." 

He hasn't looked over at Alaryn's wagon yet, and seems to be content to stand in the rain, watching the others work.

"Some of the best moves I know came from bar fights," Malik says with a laugh, moving over to sit on one of the benches for now. "If you can manage to avoid flying fists, furniture, and flagons, chances are you can avoid a sword." He's content to sit it out for now, it seems, though he rubs at his left shoulder a bit absently, not seeming to notice Seldan staring at it. Instead, his attention is on the wagon that just arrived, watching the driver set everything up, eyebrows raising a bit at the innovative mechanical nature of the thing. "Interesting," he mutters to nobody in particular.

Reva continues to work under the awning, for what cover it gives. The occasional blustery wind soaks her as well, though her long suede coat and hat shed the rain well enough. The footing is complicated, but she's an agile fencer, and it hasn't tripped her up yet. Paladins and scrolls are outside her swim lane, though, she has no idea how to contribute to that part of the discussion. On the other hand, there's Alaryn's cart, and so she'll pause in her workout to see if there's anything interesting for sale.

"One of the best ways to overcome challenges is by having the very best gear." calls out Alaryn from under the cover of her awning. Oddly, she doesn't have a bunch of gears or clockwork claptrap. She doesn't look like the total machine-maniac that most artificers do. She has glowing crystals at the pinnacles of her awning, and another set of glowing ones at the base of the poles that extend to the ground, helping to anchor them there. "Now I sell all manner of things. From simple leather armor, to magic belts to make you stronger."

A pause, and she adds, "I am also capable of binding mana into your armor or weapons should you desire."

A familiar face - and shelter from the rain, at least for a time. Seldan seems satisfied with whatever it was he saw, so turns towards the cart as well. "Alaryn," he tells the other two. "I've a cloak she made, and it has served me well." He isn't wearing it at the moment, obviously, but does approach, slicking soaked hair back from his forehead. "Good morn to you," he greets politely.

Oh right, it -is- a chilly rain. So Alaryn decides to provide something else to lure customers into her awning cover. I mean sure it's about a fifteen foot by ten foot awning only, so only so many people can fit under there. But she grins to Seldan, "Glad it is working well." she states as she reaches into a belt pouch and plucks an orange gemstone from it. The stone seems to pulse with a flickering inner light. Seldan -may- have seen this trick before, but she steps out to the middle of her covered area and crouches to set the gem on the ground.

That done, she speaks a soft command phrase in Kulthian. As she does so, the gem transforms into a full blown campire, complete with stone ring around it. Under cover, it burns happily and begins to immediately provide warmth for those nearby.

"Ah, now that is better. Would anyone care for tea? My treat." she offers as she turns back to her wagon and extracts a battered but beloved teapot and a set of cups.

Malik gets up, following the other man over to the wagon. Either for the wares, or the temporary reprieve from the storm. He's dripping himself, now, similarly trying to push his unruly hair back out of his eyes as he takes a look at what might be on display. "Alaryn," he greets the woman, offering a polite nod. He even watches curiously as she takes the gemstone and transforms it into a campfire, that smile growing a bit when she does. "I can see how that might be useful."

Reva echoes Seldan belatedly, and gives Alaryn a, "Good morning," as well. "The thought of enchanted armor intrigues me, but my pursestrings will not stretch so far," she says calmly. "And though my armor is good, I would hope for better before I start spending gold on upgrading it." The campfire trick definitely impresses her, and she soaks in the heat gratefully. "That's a useful talent," she notes.

"Aye. Amazing how often some of the minor enchantments become oh so useful. Such as.." Alaryn gestures to the armbands she wears about her biceps, which make her look a lot more fit than she really is. "These do not make me stronger in a way that would assist in combat. But I can carry huge amounts of gear. It comes in handy when loading and unloading heavy things such as..."

That said, Alaryn heads over to dispense some of her drinking water into her teapot, and then raps knuckles on the big vat of water. "Every morning, I have the priests of Kulthos create water for me. A vat full of water is quite heavy. But... it is useful." And then she goes to hang the pot over the fire.

Seldan hadn't actually, and he, too, looks impressed. "That would be quite nice in an adventuring pack, if one is gone for some days. How long will it burn?" He slicks his hair back out of his face again, holding out his hands to the fire, but stops at the mention of Kulthos, his gaze levels, and his hands drop.

Seldan hadn't actually, and he, too, looks impressed. "That would be quite nice in an adventuring pack, if one is gone for some days. How long will it burn?" He slicks his hair back out of his face again, holding out his hands to the fire. "It seems that creating water would have been unnecessary this morn," he chuckles, suddenly breaking into a smile.

Malik stands close to the fire, clearly curious about its function, but it seems that Seldan has those particular questions covered. Instead, he looks at whatever other wares might be present, including the curious armbands that the woman wears, taking into account their function and design as he looks over the other items on display, like a child in a sweet shop.

Reva hrms and nods about the armbands. "That sounds useful," she admits. "Though I am rarely called on for carrying burdens." Though no slouch, she's not burly and buff by a longshot. Her fencing style was clearly more about speed than power. She nods, agreeing with Seldan's assessment of the usefulness of the other magic as well. "That seems quite useful for campaigning," she observes.

"The bead lasts for eight hours." offers Alaryn. "But you can cancel the magic early. The catch is, whatever time you spend with it deployed, you then must let it rest and recharge for double that duration before using it again. So.." Alaryn shrugs, "You can burn it eight hours every day and give it sixteen hours of downtime."

Then she gives an impish grin, "Or, just carry three and you're good all day, every day."

But then she reaches into the wagon and produces a bag which she opens and asks, "Does anyone have a particular favorite for tea? I have a variety of types." And that said, she presses a stud in the side of the wagon, causing a shelf to slide out. Then she lays out half a dozen different types of tea... all labelled clearly.

"I do not require a campfire at all times," Seldan answers, although the chuckle is still in his voice. He's beginning to dry off in its warmth, although it will take some time yet. "And your price for such a thing?" He looks over at the tea shelf as it opens. "I enjoy the stronger teas," he admits. "I shall let you choose as you will. My thanks for the kindness."

Malik shakes his head. "No, thanks," he says, much less formally. "Can't stand the stuff." He watches again as she presses more things on the wagon, and more shelves pop out, the man's eyes widening a bit. He almost reaches for something that catches his eye, but then thinks better of it, moving over to sit next to the fire himself. "Did you -make- all of this?" he asks the woman -- various parts of the wagon included in the question, from the way he's looking at it.

"Price?" asks Alaryn. "Well, the beads are not difficult to make. The cost would be no more than four hundred and thirty..." she pauses, tilts her head, "Four hundred thirty two gold would be the guild mandated price. That is twenty percent more than the cost to make it." she admits with a shrug, "I would charge less.. but..." she lifts her hands helplessly.

Then she gets to work, extracting bits of tea to place in small cheesecloth bags before dropping them into cups.

"I did not make the wagon, but I -did- install all of the... add extras, you might say." she admits with a grin as she settles in to await the water boiling.

Reva hrms about eight hours. "That's a good duration, but not quite the entirety of a night's encampment." But the idea of having two or three and rotating them is exactly the sort of answer that makes sense. As for tea, "Any kind is fine for me, thanks." Her coat and hat have dried comletely, and the hair that spills down her back is quickly drying as well. The mud on her boots is setting, but cleaning boots is easy enough.

Seldan nods his agreement with Reva. "Two seems enough for such an endeavor." He nods at the price, seeming to think, chin coming to rest between two fingers. The mud on him is also setting, but such things are easily cleaned, and as one has to go back out, it makes little sense to clean them now. "I shall think on such a thing. I've other needs to see to as well."

"Of course." offers Alaryn as she hands out the teacups to those who expressed a desire for some. She turns to regard Malik and asks, "Do you desire -some- sort of hot beverage to warm your insides while the fire warms your outsides?"

Already there is -some- steam coming from the spout of the teapot. She turns to regard it and nods, "One camp would likely only need two such fire beads. I agree. If you are traveling. But if you are travling with a large group, then you may want more than one fire per night. Yes?" she asks.

But then the pot begins to whistle like it is boiling, and she points gloved hands at it, lifting it from the hook without touching it. You know.. mage hand. AKA Minor Telekinesis. But the pot floats to her gloved grip and then she begins pouring. What? Reach into the fire? No thanks.

Malik shakes his head. "No, I'm alright. Thanks. The fire's enough." He still seems fascinated by the functioning o the thing, though he nods to Reva. "Not quite, no. But it'd probably be a good start to a more mundane fire. Start this one, add a few logs, pick the bead out o the ashes in the morning." And then, over to Seldan, "What, the Silver Guard doesn't let you live in the lap o fmagical luxury?" He leans over, bumping the paladin's shoulder -- which is a mistake, apparently, given the grimace he makes when he does so.

Reva will hold her cup out for tea, and drink her tea thoughtfully once its poured. "Yes, I'm sure there are things I need more than a campfire. Though campfires are important when travelling. But they're bot -that- hard to make manually." Not that she has any particular skill at it. That's what tindertwigs are for. She hrms at putting mundane logs on that magical fire, as Malik suggests, and asks Alarn, "So would that work? That'd extend the fire nicely."

Seldan also accepts his teacup, sipping carefull.y

Seldan also accepts his teacup, sipping carefully. "It would, unless you are somewhere where a normal fire will not burn, or where there is no firewood to be had. I presume that such a fire would burn where a normal one would not?" He goes to take a second, longer sip, only to have it splashed over his hand by an abrupt shove. "Ai!" He looks up at Malik, annoyed, but the annoyance vanishes quickly enough at the grimace. "If it still troubles you, move gently. Does it move as it should?"

With a shrug, Alaryn says, "I don't see why it wouldn't work. It is a real fire. It burns and warms things as you can see and feel." But she smirks, "I never considered just -adding- to it." She chuckles and nods, "That should work, aye. Would be best to not go reaching into the flames for the bead, I agree." And she looks to Seldan with a raised brow. "It is fire." she admits. "If fire cannot burn, then it cannot burn." She looks to the others and finishes pouring the tea. "So, -are- there any items that any of you might be seeking? If I do not have them, I can acquire them."

Malik closes his eyes, rubbing his shoulder and muttering at himself under his breath. "No, no," he assures Seldan, despite evidence to the contrary. "Still mostly just my pride." There's a slight flush that comes to his cheeks after that, though it could just be a trick of the fire, maybe. But then Alaryn is offering a blessed distraction, and he's already turning toward her. "The armbands. Could something like that be modified, maybe? Less brute force, and more coordination?"

Reva nods about the limits of the fire, sipping her tea and wincing as Seldan's is jostled. She listens a magic items are discussed. "I can't even really imagine what magic I might need," she admits.

From the look Seldan levels at Malik, he isn't buying what the other man is selling. "Pride will not avail you should you find yourself injured on the road," he remarks, holding his teacup with two fingers and then setting it aside to examine his own tea-decorated hand and front. A quick arcane gesture and a few spoken words, and the spilled tea is no more. He pauses a moment, then sticks the hand out in the still-falling rain for a minute or more. He, too, nods about the fire's limits. "But it will burn without fuel, if such is needed. That is itself useful."

Chuckling, Alaryn shakes her head, "It is not always about magic. I was offering to acquire and sell just about anything you might require." She sips her own tea and lifts a brow, "I've some healing crystals here if you are insured." she offers to Malik.

Then to Seldan she nods, "It consumes the charge of mana, aye. That itself is true."

Malik shakes his head, holding up the slightly injured hand to Alaryn when she offers the healing crystals. "It's fine, really," he tells her. "Just a little sore, is all. Ran into a friend. Maybe not as gracefully as I would have liked. It'll be fine in a day or two." Turning back to Seldan, he says, "Good thing that I've got other tricks if I run into trouble on the road then." And over to Reva, "That's one of the troubles with magic. It's mostly limited by your imagination. Sometimes, your fingers. Often, your wallet."

Reva ticks off on her fingers, "Survival, safety, capability. Those are the things you need on all adventures. Tindertwigs will do for the first, or I can make a fire with sticks and grass if I absolutely have to. Survival's another matter entirely. A keen blade," she pats the ornate bastard sword on her hip, "is a start, but I am saving up for better armor." She says, "As far as cability, the sword covers that as well, for me. Though more potency there would not be bad." She sighs at being limited by her gold. "And gold does not grow on trees. But if it did, then things would cost more and all the trees would be bare."

_Suit yourself_, says Seldan's wordless look and shrug at Malik. "Armor is a difficult thing when one studies the arcane arts as well. It protects you, but it can also get in your way. Thankfully, there are ways around it." The mess cleaned up, he picks up his teacup again, sipping carefully. "Still, one needs it."

Nodding, Alaryn smirks, "Well, when combat begins, I tend to stay at a distance and use my girl there.." she gestures to where the shoulder stock of a thunderbelcher pokes out of her pack on the wagon. "Combine that with my trusty bandolier, and I can keep up a whithering storm of fire for quite some time."

"If you are sure though.." she adds, now addressing Malik, "If you find yourself injured, my healing crystals can be just as effective as the spells of the priests."

Malik gives a little nod, looking over to Seldan's hand where he holds it in the rain. "You alright? You might wanna make use of one of those crystals she's offering," he tells the man. "Didn't expect that you'd splash it all over yourself. Thought you knight types were supposed to be graceful," he teases, flashing the paladin a playful wink before looking back to Reva. "I can cover most of those just fine. Besides, in a real fight, I'm not exactly looking to get up close and personal." And then, back to Alaryn, "So the armbands can't be modified, then?"

Reva nods slowly about Artificery cures. "I see," she says. As far as up close and personal goes, she says, "That's my focus. So I have to be giod at that. No magical training for me, nor esoteric arts, nor priestly pasttimes. But I fight well enough."

Glancing to Malik then again, Alaryn shakes her head, "Sorry. Was distracted. As for modifying them... as they have no combat utility, I am not sure how that would be useful. But I -can- fabricate a belt that will make you more agile and quick."

Seldan's smile returns at that, although it is a small one. "You are the last person I would have expected to speak to me of grace," he answers mildly,

Seldan's smile returns at that, although it is a small one. "You are the last person I would have expected to speak to me of grace," he answers Malik mildly. The skin's a little pink, but he doesn't seem too worried about it. "As for such a purchase, Her grace will suffice my needs, I think."

"Trust me," Malik says in return, his own smile returning a bit. "I'm full of surprises. You'll see. One thing I can promise is that, around me, you'll rarely be bored. In mortal peril, perhaps, or maybe just mortified. Occasionally maybe even impressed, just a little," he boasts, making a pinching motion with his fingers. "But not bored." And to Reva, "sometimes, you need to get up close and personal. I just prefer not to." He stands, looking like he's going to inquire further about the items she has for sale, but Alaryn seems to have diverted her attention to taking an inventory of something, adjusting labels and straightening wares. So Malik thinks better of disturbing her. "Maybe I'll come back later," he tells the other two, not wanting to interrupt.

"You are full of something, of that I am sure." Seldan's eyes suddenly go wide as the words pop out of his mouth before his brain can leash them, and he coughs. "Even if you have no interest in closing, the enemy is often interested in closing with you, and it is well to be prepared," he says quickly, changing the subject oh so fast and flushing as he does so.

Reva nods about closing to fight with an enemy. "Just as you say." She has finished her tea and her browsing, and she sets her teacup aside. "Well," she says. "This was a nice break, but I should continue my training." And so she ducks out of the portable shelter and back under the sheltered bleachers, getting rained on for the moments in between.

Malik turns, looking surprised for a second. But not at all put off. That grin widens even further, eyes brightening. "So. There's some fire in you after all," he laughs. "Was beginning to think that they took it away when you took your vows." He doesn't seem at all offended by teh comment. If anything, the look on his face says he finds it endearing. He turns to watch Reva as she runs back out into the rain, not much minding the fact that he's standing just outside the flap of the tent, getting soaked once more, looking back to Seldan curiously. "Should we join?" he asks. And then, "Did you find someone to translate for you? Offer still stands."

Seldan raises an eyebrow at Malik. "I save it for Her service, usually. Little is to be gained by antagonizing people I scarcely know. I've achieved a great deal via diplomacy, even in the few moons I have been here." He, too, looks after Reva, and sets down his teacup. "Yes, I should continue as well." He isn't quite dry yet, but nods anyway, and makes his way out of the tent as well.

Reva is at least dry on the inside, her coat and hat keeping the rain away. She's not inclined to bare-chested displays of manliness, perhaps for obvious reasons, and so is managing as she can, blade flashing quickly as she goes through the fencing practice with that huge blade.

"Ok," Malik says, following after the other two. "So, then, let's fix that." He pushes his hair up out of his face, running a few steps in front of Seldan so he can walk backwards, looking the man in the eye briefly. "Get to know me." He spreads his hands to the side, like this should be the most obvious thing in the world. "Let's go out. Have some actual fun. You -do- remember fun, yes?" But then they're back in the bleachers, Malik turning to watch Reva. "Good form," he compliments. "Not my weapon of choice, but you wield it well."

Reva smiles to Malik at his prase for her skill. "I've been fighting all my life," she says, her tone ironic. "But with the blade, that's much more recent. My husnand taught me, it wasn't something I'd have thought of, myself. But he didn't want to leave behind a helpless wife when he went off to the wars."

Seldan doesn't answer Malik, his jawline set, instead setting himself a little apart to watch Reva as well. He watches in silence for a few minutes, but as the two begin talking, turns on his heel and leaves, quick strides muddying trousers and boots alike as he leaves the festival grounds.

Malik nods, listenign to the story. "Where I come from," he tells her, "women fight alongside the men. Everyone's expected to do their part to defend the others. And I wouldn't call any of them 'helpless'," he laughs. "That's a good way to find yourself bleeding, fast. Tsuran women tend to have a bit more violence in their blood, I think. Years of having to take care of themselves."

Reva chuckles about women as warriors, and says, "It's not infrequent in Stormgarde, either. But I was not raised to war, and I've bo stomach for it, myself. I'm fine with fighting to defend your own, or against injustice, but lining up and hacking each other to fishbait for sport or so some noble can get a bit more gold is not something I want any part of."

"Hacking each other to fishbait can sometimes have its perks," he counters. "Tends to remove the ones with the more violent tendencies from society early on, leaving the more reasonable ones to come up with better ways to solve situations. Better that the ones who want to swing a sword around swing it at each other, than at everyone else. But for the most part, I agree. Not my preferred method of conflict resolution either. But that's not the world we live in, is it?"

Reva nods about it being the world we live in. "Yes," she agrees. "But the problem with removing the violent ones is that it removes a lot of other folks as well. But that's how it is, as you say." And she's definitely not happy about how it is, to judge from how she's slicing up her imaginary foes. She's definitely no slouch when it comes to the fighting bit.

Malik watches her form, the way that she hacks at her imaginary foe, a little smile forming. "Yeah. But I'm pretty sure that you're more than capable of tipping those scales in your favor again," he states matter of factly. Though he does occasionally glance off in the direction that Seldan left in. "I think I might have offended him," he says, a bit more seriously this time, that smile fading a bit.

Reva hopes she's capable. That's what all this training is for. "We shall see," she says gruffly. She's certainly not going down easy, if the fight comes to her. As far as offending Seldan, she says, "You may have. You were certainly trying hard enough." No venom there, simply observation. "Not all men have thick skins, nor take rough comeraderie as it's intended."

Malik winces a bit. There might not have been any venom in the words, but something about them manages to cut deep, from the look on his face. "I --" It looks like he struggles for words, for a moment, but eventually just looks sheepish. "Yeah. I guess I was an ass, huh?" He sighs, leaning back against the bench. "Guess I'll be apologizing tonight. Hopefully I'm at least moderately more skilled in -that-." Though as he watches her sword form, he turns, offering a simple observation. "You'd be better off driving forward with the heel of your back foot, rather than the toe," he offers. "It feels weird at first, and it's not exactly the 'orthodox' style, but you can eventually learn to push through just about any guard they might have up. Uses more of the muscles."

Reva chuckles at the reaction to her observation. "All men are different. My cousins would have laughed off anything that didn't draw blood, and a few things that did, if it didn't draw too much and a good tale went with it. As for apologizing, that may soothe him. You looked more like husband and wife than comrades in arms, but that's what I'm used to seeing, so there may be some bias." She arches a brow at the fighting critique, but she shufts her stance and tries it like you say. "It feels like I'm generating less power," she complains, though she continues to try the technique.

"Husband and ..." Malik blinks a bit, his face starting to flush even more. "No. It's not like that," he tells her, looking a bit nervous. "He's just -- probably the closest thing I have to an actual friend in this city. That's all. And I keep constantly tripping up. Occasionally, literally." He moves up beside her, drawing his own sword and mimicking the form that she's using. "The trick is, it's in the hips," he explains. "You use your heel to drive the knee straighter, rather than bending it like you do on the foot. The knee presses the hip forward. The hip pushes the rest of it. It just creates one straight line." He demonstrates what he means, allowing her to see. "But you're right. It feels like you're generating less power because you -are- generating less power. The muscles need time to adapt to the movement, get used to it. But it's a way to generate more, not less. Over time."

Reva smirks at how Malik takes the husband-and-wife comment. "Like old friends bickering, then," she allows, if that's less uncomfortable. She shrugs at tripping up, and says, "Most men don't worry that deeply about it. Or it's forgiven if you buy them a beer and take them hunting." She shrugs. "Not that it's my business. You two will do as you like, and neither of you are Stormgarders, so I can't guess how you might react." She'll mimic how you do the move, foot planted, using the heel to push off, and striking like that. She's sort of getting the hang of it.

Malik moves in front of her, nodding. "Good," he says, watching her form. "That's right." He carefully unsheathes his sword, crossing the steel with hers. "Now, the good part of that is, even if they're braced? You can manage to push through it." He bends his knees, applying pressure back to her blade, and not a small amount. "Try it now. Feel how you use your leg to drive it all forward, even if you have to take me right along with it. Which is exactly what you want to do."

Reva goes through the motion again, slowly at first, getting a feel for how the different leverage works. She's not super strong, and the pressure takes a considerable effort for her to manage, she's more about skill and precision when fighting, angling her blade to make up for the pressure you apply. But she nods about driving forward, doing it as you say. "It still feels strange, but I think I can see how it's effective," she says.

Malik just smiles. "Good. Now that you've got me off-balance, all you have to do is turn your shoulders a bit, and I'm probably gonna take a hell of a spill." Though he does back off the pressure before she can actually do that part. "Maybe a demonstration later. I show up covered in bruises he's gonna think I just need healing again. Awkward on top of awkward."

Reva laughs. "Just give him a kiss, he'll be fine," she quips dryly. "But make sure it's in private, he seems like the type that doesn't like kissing in front of others." She nods about a demonstration later. "That sounds good," she says. "Though you might just let him heal you if he wants to so badly. Some poeple can't show affection in regular ways."

Malik runs a hand through his hair, that faint flush coming to his cheeks again. "I -- don't think that he'd appreciate that very much," he answers in turn, clearly unsure as to how to answer that particular recommendation. "Besides, he took vows, or whatever. Pretty sure that that kind of thing isn't allowed." He sheathes the sword, clearing his throat a bit as he looks around for pretty much anything else to talk about. "Besides, he already did. I mean, mostly, anyway. It's better than it was yesterday." He pushes those damp, unruly locks out of his eyes once more, finally saying, "I should probably get going though. Gotta go find something in the market. Apologies go better with peace offerings."

Reva can only shrug and nod at the mention of vows. "That may be another reason he's uncomfortable," she agrees. "But healing should be OK, and it lets you spend time togetgher." She nods about a peace offering. "Can't hurt. I hope you two can ... make up." She's not sure how else to say it. It -does- seem like a domestic situation, which brings her back to her old Warmande mode, setting differences between housemates and such. "Take care then. I wish you luck."

Malik sighs, offering a wave. "Maybe you're right," he tells her. "Guess we'll see how it goes?" He starts to walk off, but offers, "I'm here pretty frequently. If you ever want someone to spar with, feel free to come find me. I'm not that good, so, you know. If you're ever feeling like you need a win." He offers a wink, then heads back out toward the market district.