[Training] All the grace of a rhinosaurus (Basic Acrobatics)

[Cyrus Marius]

TS: 2nd Cycle of Immanis, Spring, Era XIV PF

The young soldier rounded the last corner of the track that surrounded the training yard, running at a pace that could neither be called a jog nor a sprint. His long legs carried him swiftly around the track's distance, and his broad chest swelled with the deep breaths that filled his lungs. It was Cyrus' custom to work and train himself relentlessly at the beginning of each brightening, honing his body as if it were a weapon in it's own right. The legionnaire knew that if he allowed his physical condition to slacken, all the martial knowledge and skill he posessed would be worthless, and so the legionnaire worked to make his body as hard and enduring as the steel that so often armored it.

Cyrus slowed to a jogging gait as he completed his last lap, then began walking in order to allow his muscles to stretch and get the blood flowing through them. His thighs and calfs bunched and flexed beneath the loose material of his grey-colored leggings, and his bare upper torso was flushed from the exhertion of the run. He drew in deep breaths, slow and steady, and finally stopped pacing in order to stretch properly. His long blonde hair was tied back tightly into a single ponytail that hung between his shoulder-blades, restraining the mane that so often framed his countence and emphisizing the angles of the young legionnaire's visage. His black leather eye-patch stood out all the more, unobtrusive as design could allow, but still there for the world to see none the less.

The soldier walked over to a nearby bucket of water with a long-handled dipper extending out from the top, and he dumped a cup-full of the water over his head to cool himself off. He shook himself like a hound, exhalting in the feeling of the cool water running down his neck and torso, then he brought another cup full of the water up to his face to drink. Cyrus lingered by the drinking water for a moment, allowing his body a brief chance to rest, but then he replaced the dipper and went to go retrieve his grey-colored tunic. He had another challenge this brightening, one that he had personally requested, and he did not want to be late. The young legionnaire grabbed his tunic and pulled it down over his bare torso, then turned to head towards another section of the training yard. He took his time, glancing around idily at the few other soldiers drilling themselves at this hour, and soon he arrived at the desired location.

This area of the training yard was less trampled then the areas dedicated to marching and combative practice, and grass still grew thick and in relative health around where Cyrus walked. The legionnaire strode up to the grassy area and glanced around, looking for the soldier that he was supposed to meet here. He had requested assistance with an aspect of his training that was often over-looked in the rank and file regime of the infantry. Especially for a soldier like Cyrus, destined for the chaos and pandemonium of the front-line Heavy Infantry, superfluous skills that required room for effectiveness were often seen as liabilities rather than assets. Never the less, and always one to walk his own path, Cyrus had requested that his comrade join him this brightening for some training that could prove both effective and perhaps amusing as well. Knowing the particular soldier, there was a high probability of the latter comming true, Cyrus thought to himself with a smirk.

The legionnaire began to stretch again as he waited, wanting to be prepared when his companion arrived. He kept his sapphire-colored eye open and watching however, waiting for her familiar form to come into view.

[Kella Greeran]

(OOC: Hey could we timestamp in two cycles later or earlier? Kella's in training for Black Bell on the 40th. Thanks!)

Despite the pitch of her voice and smaller size, Kella's femininity was frequently shrouded in plain uniforms and her wry manners. Where most girls in Aelyria were uncommonly attractive and dressed to kill, she was only moderately attractive and dressed to literally kill, which left little room for embellishment.

But today was different. The figure that stalked across the field was wrapped snugly in black pants and a deep plum bodice. Her cropped hair hung loose and her eyes were rimmed in smoky kohl.

Seeing Kella in a context apart from training was a strange enough business, but observing her a little tarted up was enough to throw any mental order in a bit of disarray. Even as she walked across the field, she was trying her best to rub off traces of powder and paint and tug her clothes into a more modest position.

When she drew near, the scent of red current and her warning glance tinged the air between them.

"Not one disparaging word, Cyrus. I had to call in some favors."
She began to turn away from her fellow soldier but stopped midway with a raised hand.
"Oh, and don't jump to conclusions, he was one of the best."

A man's voice came from behind, it had the width and breadth of a town crier mingled with the panache of a charlatan.

"Kell-bell! Where've you gone too?"

The woman's expression scrunched a little at the nickname, as if wincing in pain.

"Right here!"

Cyrus could now understand why Kella cautioned a snap judgment. The lean man approaching him was snowy haired and deeply tanned with a neatly trimmed beard, and olive green eyes. His garb was reminiscent of a gypsy with a loose white shirt and sage colored vest trimmed in gold. But most disconcerting was what he did not have.
A marvelously intricate peg leg inlaid with gold and bone jutted from his troubadour trousers, and his wide and long hand gripped a matching cane.

A bright smile plastered itself on Kella's face, making an alarmingly quick transition from chagrin to charming.

"Cyrus, this is Massimo Epifanio. He helped train my brother and I when we began our own act. Massimo this is Cyrus, one of the legion's finest."

The man extended a well-calloused and heavily ringed hand that felt like burnished leather.

"I don't normally make house calls but when Kell-bell wears her 'bartering outfit' I can't refuse, old goat that I am."

From behind Massimo's back, Kella silently mouthed, "You owe me." She then busied herself with changing from her tightly laced boots to a softer slipper.

Massimo pivoted his body towards Cyrus, closing them off from Kella's view as he continued in a more clandestine tone.

"When I was a young lion like yourself, I was a jumping, twirling, flipping god. And I had lasses prettier than this one." He jerked a thumb at Kella, who was pulling fiercely at the heel of her boot, evidently a little stuck.

"And with a little more um, hem, you know."
His hands made a curving motion, vaguely suggesting certain parts of the female anatomy.

With a robust clap on Cyrus's shoulders he added wistfully, "Getting old is Aeternia."

Kella sprung into their conversation, announcing she was ready. The Vagaran seemed quite pleased over managing to change out of her tight boots with swearing kept to a minimum.

"That you are Kell-bell!" The old man answered heartily.
"She'll be demonstrating what I cannot."

He stuck his cane in the soft sod and looked to Cyrus.

"So, young man, let us start simply. How flexible are you and how are your cartwheels?"

[Cyrus Marius]

OOC: Sorry about that hehe, hope thats a little better.

Cyrus was doubled over in a rather unsightly position, stretching the muscles at the back of his legs as Kella came into view. He turned his head at the sight of the approaching figure, but his jaw almost went slack as he recognized his fellow soldier. She had traded her customary legion-issue clothing for an alluring outfit that flattered her oft-hidden form, and the touch of cosmetic was done tastefully and artfully, defining and enhancing her features. Cyrus straightened immediately as she neared, and he could not keep the smile from spreading across his face. He pictured a certain red-headed soldier who would pay untold crowns to see this sight.

"Serale Kella, it's good to see you," he began after she had warned him off, a slightly playful tone in his voice the only outward indication of his amusement. "Thank you for meeting me here."

The young legionnaire had been around enough women in his life to recognize when banter and jokes might be met with kitchen knives and airborne projectiles, so he restrained himself from making any sideways comments. Soon however, a third voice made itself known and hailed Kella like an old friend or family member, and the figure that it belonged to ambled into view. The Vagaran soldier lit up at the sight of the jaunty-looking man, and Cyrus immediately understood her comment about jumping to conclusions. His gaze was drawn to the intricate and elaborate prosthetic limb that protruded from his pant-leg, but having adapted and overcome his own handicap, Cyrus withheld his initial judgement.

"Serale, Massimo Epifanio," the soldier began, accepting the offered handshake and returning it heartily, "it is an honor and a pleasure, sir." Kella's admission that this was the man who trained her in acrobatics raised Cyrus' respect of the man considerably, for he had seen Kella's acrobatic displays in the past, and they were quite impressive. The Vagaran woman had often wisely chosen to remain beneath the radar of the callous and dismissive Imperial Army, but her skills spoke for themselves when she displayed them. "I appreciate you taking your time with the likes of Kella and myself, though I doubt many goats, old or young, could deny a bartering outfit of that caliber." The young soldier glanced at Kella as she mouthed her ultimatum behind Massimo's turned back, a twinkle of good-natured laughter visible in his lone sapphire eye.

Kella then turned away to attend to changing her shoes, and Massimo took Cyrus aside to talk to him about his youth and the women that he had perhaps performed some particular acrobatics with in the past. The young legionnaire could not contain a chuckle when the amiable old man painted a picture with his hands, and he cast a quick glance over at Kella to see if the other soldier had overheard. Thankfully, she seemed pre-occupied for the moment with a particularly troublesome boot, naturally, and she did not seem to hear or notice the comparison. Knowing the Vagaran's fiesty temper, Cyrus considered both himself and Massimo lucky on that count.

Soon Kella had managed to wrangle her rebellious footwear into submission, and she announced her readiness to the elder performer. Massimo then turned and began scrutinizing Cyrus, presumably appraising his form with an expert's eye. The young soldier knew he had a physique more suited to the slash and bash chaos of a pitched melee rather than to the light and graceful movements of an acrobat, but neither was he a hulking brute who survived by virtue of his raw power. He was lithe for his size, lean and defined from his service to the Empire, and he carried himself with the self-assurance and confidence of a born warrior. Massimo then asked him a simple question about his acrobatic potential, and Cyrus hesitated a brief moment before answering.

"Well, I suppose that I am as limber as the next man, sir." It was as true an answer as Cyrus knew, for he had never pushed his flexibility beyond what he considered average limitations. "As for my cartwheels, it has been some time since I attempted one, and I could not say that they would be very pretty." It had actually been years since the young legionnaire had attempted a cartwheel, not since his 9th birthday if he remembered correctly. They had not been very pretty then either, but perhaps that was better left unsaid for now.

[Kella Greeran]

(OOC: Thanks! I appreciate it. Also, I hope my posts aren't waxing too long, lol)

Massimo rubbed his beard, "Much as the next man, eh?"

Kella's uninvited voice chimed in, "Oh I think he's a little more limber than most."
Whether this was a compliment or an attempt to goad her instructor to push Cyrus, neither could tell. The girl began swinging her arms and rolling her shoulders, prepping for a light little stretch.

"Well then," Massimo spread his hands expansively, "The lady has spoken."

In a move Kella was probably not expecting, Massimo swatted her with his cane, knocking her squarely on the arm. He simultaneously bellowed.

"Opening number four!"

Kella cried out, "By Diana, Massimo! Number four! I haven't even warmed up. Wha-"

Another stinging thwack silenced Kella. Her look was a storm cloud, and her dark speech a consistent string of muttered epithets.

Massimo turned towards Cyrus as if they were old friends.

"Now, my good man, I do not expect you to master these stretches, but I implore you to repeat them daily at the level that is a notch beyond what it comfortable. They are best if paired with exercises that strengthen the stomach. Why is that Kell-bell?"

She answered automatically, "Because that's what holds you together when you move."

Massimo smiled and turned back to Cyrus, "Remember to breathe. Try with the lady."

A resentfully obedient Kella was curled into a ball on the tip of her toes, with her face tucked into the space between her knees. In a slow motion she uncurled into a standing position, but kept her nose to her knees so she was literally folded in half.
After half a minute of this she laid on her back in an "L" shape with toes to the sky. Abruptly her legs dropped into a "V" and then a middle split.

"Kella Jestarina Greeran!" Massimo clicked his tongue, "Your freefall splits are shameful."

It was hard to tell, but Kella might have growled. Even still, she continued moving into a butterfly stretch, lunges that slipped forward into front splits, and a move where she stood and folded her leg in half by pulling her ankle to her lower back. She gave Cyrus pitying looks all the while, as if very sorry she was putting him through this. Thankfully the routine ended with a gentle head roll.

"I'm not doing anymore of number four, Massimo, you'll break us both and I rather like Cyrus." The woman's cheeks colored at her admitted fondness, and she speedily added, "In one piece," to save herself.

This time Kella was quick enough to dodge the cane, Massimo seemed pleased by this development.

"Well then, something simple. Kella, what is the principle of a cartwheel?"

The girl nodded and looked to Cyrus, glad to be doing something slightly more dignified in front of him.
"Well, it starts with proper momentum and rhythm. You want to beg-"

"Kell- bells! That is not what I taught you. Say it."

Her slate blue eyes shot poisoned daggers at the old man, but he was unmoved.
"Say it."

Kella crossed her arms and finally spat out the phrase,
"Fingers, fingers, toes, toes, that's the way a cartwheel goes."

The old performer clapped his hands together and sighed happily.
"Ah, my lessons have remained."

He returned to Cyrus and said, "This may seem simple and unimpressive, but the principles are true for many things you will learn today."

As Massimo continued to describe the process of the move, Kella performed each step as a demonstration. Strangely, the girl looked quite pleasant, as if her face had been trained to put on a show as much as her body.

"Stand in a lunge, put your best leg forward and give it a slight bend. It helps if your arms are up close to your ears."

Kella's arms raised, and her wrist did a bit of a flourish to accent the movement.

"Begin with your favored hand, when it hits the ground your back leg should be kicking or pushing from the ground. Your next hand needs to follow very quickly. When it touches the ground, your other leg ought to be off the ground."

Massimo, held up a finger to accentuate a point, "The trick is the little rhyme Kella said. You need a rhythm, one, two, three, four."

At this point, Kella was performing a handstand, but Massimo did not even spare her a look.

"You'll want to hit a hand stand in the middle of your arc, and watch you don’t swing your legs to far side. It helps if you suck your stomach in."

Kella landed in a lunge, a smile on her face and her arms raised triumphantly.

Finally, the old man turned toward the girl, still oblivious of her little performance.
"Kell- bell, give him a few tries, then catch his legs when he wheels. Hold him in a hand stand so he understands the feel."

The girl nodded with an impish look at Cyrus.
"I know you can swing a sword, but can you swing your legs?"

As if admonishing her to not be sassy towards men, Massimo demanded, "Repeat it, Kell-bell."

The blistering waves of annoyance that came from Kella were astounding.
"Finger, fingers, toes, toes, that's the way a cartwheel goes."

A less enthused looking Kella then beckoned for Cyrus to come over and give the move a go.

[Cyrus Marius]

OOC: Not at all, I rather enjoy reading them . Sorry about the delay by the way, my computer went down and I'm making due with a laptop substitute that likes to crash when I try and write replies.

Cyrus watched with rapt attention as Kella demonstrated the various stretches that Massimo instructed her to perform. He knew the rudimentary streches one did before physical exercise, but what the Vagaran was doing far exceeded anything that Cyrus had expected of himself in the past. He watched as Kella moved with an almost feline smoothness from one position to the next, fluidly manipulating her limbs and stretching herself in one direction after the next. As his sapphire-colored orb lingered on her form, distracting and vividly illustrated thoughts ran unbidden through the soldier's mind, and he physically shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts away.

The young legionnaire attempted to perform the same stretches as he had seen Kella execute, but it was soon painfully obvious that he was not as limber as he should be. His face contorted slightly as he attempted some of the more demanding stretches, and he could not contain the groan that escaped from his lips as he valiantly tried to perform the freefall splits. Cyrus stood straight again, shaking some of the ache out of his limbs, and he resolved to add the challenging routine to his daily regime every morning.

The legionnaire remained silent as Kella and Massimo began to discuss cartwheels, although he could not help the slight grin that crossed his visage at the small jangle that the Vagaran soldier had to repeat. Cyrus recognized it as valuable advice however, even as the elder performer said thus, and he mentally pictured how to manipulate his own body to perform the cartwheel. He had a relatively comfortable sense of his own balance and he was good on his feet, so applying the information he had been given should prove no great challenge, right?

The soldier almost smiled to himself with confidence, but he continued to listen to Massimo's voice and watch Kella perform the cartwheel with an impressive level of skill and familiarity. The female soldier had a look on her face that the legionnaire had rarely seen before, a comfortable and glamourous expression that was attractive by it's very nature. Cyrus raised a hand to his mouth and his chin, feining a look of deep thought, while he really grinned like a mischevious child at the Vagaran's display behind her mentor's back.

Then it was Cyrus' turn to try the manuver, and he backed up a step or two to give himself some room to work with. He placed his body in a similar position to what he had seen Kella do, legs in a lunge and his arms up by his head, and after a slight moment of finding his balance, he began the falling part of the manuver. His body moved swiftly, and his right hand shot downard to catch his weight as he went headfirst towards the ground. The young soldier pushed off with his back leg at the same time that his left hand moved to touch the grassy surface of the training field, but Cyrus had pushed too hard with his legs. As his second hand made contact, the rest of his body sailed to the side, legs flailing through the air for a moment before he struck the ground solidly on his back.

The young legionnaire lay there for a moment, blinking up at the sky. So, he thought to himself, perhaps things are slightly easier to perform in one's mind then to attempt in the flesh. He smiled slightly at himself as he lay there, humbled by his own previous confidence, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position and glanced over at Kella.

"How was that one?"

Still grinning, Cyrus pushed himself up and brushed some of the grass off his backside. Never one to give up, the young soldier put himself in the position again, and without a moment's hesitation, attempted the manuver a second time. This time his left hand shot out too soon, and he half fell, half somersaulted into a pile at Massimo's feet. Cyrus grinned up at the elder performer, enjoying the attempted acrobatics despite his rocky beginnings, but the man's cane loomed ominously close, and the young soldier hurried to his feet to attempt the cartwheel a third time.

[Kella Greeran]

For once, Kella felt a little smug about her abilities. Sure the boys could lift more and hit harder, but they could not move as effortlessly as the lasses. They lacked the magic trait that allowed women to slink and sway when they walked, which made acrobatic tricks just a little harder.

Watching Cyrus was a little too fun, for more reasons than the obvious fumbling. On the plus side, Kella thought, he was so absorbed in the task at hand that perhaps he wouldn't catch her staring.

When he asked how he was doing, Kella plastered on a purposely fake smile and crooned like some empty-headed tavern wench,

"You're fantastic, Cyrus!"

He would get the mild sensation that she was being cheeky.

When Cyrus plopped at his feet, the old man beamed in a grandfatherly way. All Massimo's scorn and censure was saved for his former pupil.

"Ah, Prime was not built in a day. Kell-bell told me you are tenacious, that is the key."

He lightly rapped Cyrus's sturdy stomach with his cane when the soldier drew himself up to try again.

"Remember to hold it in, that will keep you from wobbling. Just keep giving it a go until the grass has stained you greener than a sirens..." He caught himself, "... tresses."

As Massimo was delivering his motivational speech a sing-song voice came from behind the pair.

"There once was a man named Cy
A cartwheel he did try
He'd have a heigh ho
And away he would go
But fell with his arse to the sky."

Kella was walking about on her hands behind the old tutor's back, but somehow managed to compose little ditties as the blood rushed to her head.

"One day Cyrus did chance
To attempt a jester's dance
He twirled
And he swirled
But somehow lost his pants."

Massimo cleared his throat to muffle a rumbling laugh at Kella's display of buffoonery. The girl was momentarily swept up in her old ways, all impish smiles and silly jabs.

She fell gently back onto her feet, moving almost like some fanciful little toy.

The Jester's gestures were all a light, peculiar farce, as if conscious of the fact that she was made to be stared at as something mildly fantastic and a little strange.

It suddenly did not seem so bizarre to envision Kella decked in scarlet and purple motley with a painted face.

Her expression bordered the sweetly playful, for what was life to a Jester but a game and a show? It was never something cruel or sudden, but a little toy in her hand in which she had no part. According to the audience, after the act, the Jester just ceased to be. Her life ended when the crowd turned away.

Such sad bright thoughts would snatch at Kella's mind when she was a creature of the circus. Even now, the memories filled her heart, spilling over when disturbed. To banish the hint of melancholy, she continued her game in full force. Despite any taint, it could all still make her smile a bit.

"Well, then, Cyrus, you seem keen to give it another go. I'll catch you if I can this time," she piped.

"And when she catches you," Massimo interjected, "Try a limerick yourself. It will distract your mind as you hold the position. Good effort. You'll have it soon enough."

Kella looked eagerly to her teacher, hoping for her own scrap of praise. When Massimo caught her expression, his brow darkened and he clucked his tongue.

"Your limericks need work. Try another."

The Vagaran looked like a pail of water had been dumped on her head. She stepped away to make space for Cyrus's cartwheel and adopted the mask of a performer.

"A man and a porcupine had an affair
And though he kissed her with care
His eye she'd poke
But he'd laugh and joke
That's why the gods gave me a spare."

Unsure of his reaction to her rhyme, Kella looked a little sheepishly to Cyrus.

[Cyrus Marius]

The young soldier paused before attempting the third cartwheel, and he listened attentively to what advice Massimo had to impart. He was still struggling to maintain his mien as the rapt pupil, but Kella was using all of her considerable charm to reduce the young legionnaire into a pile of giggles. He tried not to look directly at the Vagaran, but that was becomming harder and harder to do. Instead, he focused on the elderly performer, and tried to think about how he would correct his form for the next attempt.

Then however, he heard Kella's first rhyme. The laughter burst from the soldier's lips before he could contain it, and as he tried to throw her a withering glance, he beheld her on her hands again and could not contain the second laugh that escaped without permission. The girl really had a gift for entertaining, a trait that was often under-valued but truly priceless in the generally grim ranks of the Imperial legions.

Cyrus had turned back to face Massimo as Kella spoke her second limerick, and both he and the elder man struggled to contain the laughter that threatened to come forth. The legionnaire glanced at the Vagaran soldier again over his shoulder, and he found he could not turn away as she gracefully completed her acrobatic display. A part of him wondered if this was the same woman as the one who was such a familiar part of the Imperial war machine, the woman who could rally a ravished and dying unit, while under fire and while wounded, and still have enough fire within her to fight at her comrade's side. It took an incredible amount of self-posession and awareness in order to withstand such ordeals and maintain one's personality and disposition as Kella had, and it was Cyrus' respect for that trait that made her so intriguing to him now.

Yes, he told himself, it was respect. That was it.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he nodded at Kella's suggestion to give the cartwheels another go.

"Nothing bent or broken on those previous attempts, so I'm good to try again. I can't make any promises of course, but I'll try my best not to kick you." He said with a small grin.

Then Massimo suggested that Cyrus try his hand at his own limerick, to relax the soldier's focus and tension as he tried the cartwheel. He made a thoughtful face, but then he heard Kella's third rhyme from the side, and he feined a look of shock and surprise.

"Hooo..." He shook his head as if angry, but the smile was fast in comming, unable to hide behind the pretense of offense. "Oh boy, nice one Kella. Your limericks do need work." The legionnaire stuck his tongue out for good measure, then began his cartwheel aimed right towards the Vagaran. He figured at least, if nothing else, he'd get the satisfaction of crashing into her.

The young soldier remembered to maintain the form he had been shown, only this time he focused more on controlling his body during the shifting motion. As his dominant hand touched down on the surface of the field and his legs kicked off from the ground, Cyrus flexed the muscles of his midsection and lower stomach, using them to control the momentum gained by kicking off. His other hand naturally flew into position to hold up his weight, and the muscles of his upper body worked to correct and maintain his balance as he completed the position. He could feel Kella's hands wrap around his ankles, and he quickly found his balance with his hands and arms, then fixed them in place so that they would support his weight. Remembering what Massimo had requested, Cyrus tried to think of the best limerick he could come up with at that particular moment.

"I once knew a pretty female soldier,
Her stretches could set men's hearts to smolder,
When tall red-heads would wink,
She'd throw quite a stink,
But she'd better take what she can get before she gets any older."

[Kella Greeran]

(OOC: LOL)

Cyrus's initial expression of offense actually caused Kella's eyes to widen a bit, as if she was already starting to form an apology. The girl had a knack for offending, but being mean was not her brand of humor.
But the look on Cyrus's face vanished quicker then it came, causing Kella to quickly adopt a defensive tone.

"I'm out of practice is all. My best ones were bawdy and I'd be too embarrassed for those without the costume to disguise me."

After the brief exchange, Kella readied herself to catch Cyrus's hurtling legs. This time, his cartwheel was surprisingly smooth.

Cyrus's ensuing limerick was too grand for Massimo to contain himself. The man chuckled broadly at his pupil's expense.
A womanly laugh joined Massimo's rumble. Not some half wry smile or mischievous look, but a true laugh. Kella could barely manage her retort.

"A pox on you, Cyrus!"

It was a shockingly good rhyme, and Kella would be lying if she said she wasn't just a little sore over it. Any trace of soreness, though, was fully submerged in her appreciation of wit. An almost unexpected trait in the soldier between her hands.
And it was a chance to truly laugh at something other than the frequently absurd life and times of Kella Greeran.
She found herself wondering at the strange hiatus this tumbling session brought. It was a marvel that something so pleasant could arise in the midst of precarious and grueling circumstances.

Gently she pushed his legs in the proper direction, helping him to a soft landing.
When Cyrus could stand and face her, the girl gave a courtly bow, sinking low before him.

"I have been bested."

She straightened to look at him, her slate colored eyes were glittering with the prospect of a challenge.

"For now at least."

Her warm bronzed tone dissipated as her speech took on the levity that normally colored it.

"In regards to your jab, I'd chew the good- hearted red-head up and spit him out. He is too thoughtful a fellow when he is not tangling me up in some sort of peril or trying to lob off heads."

Arching her brow she added, "Would you have me snatch the nearest fellow, Cyrus, before my few charms vanish?"

Massimo allowed space for Cyrus to retort before he interjected, "Your brother says you joined the military to catch men, Kella."

The Vagaran folded her arms and scoffed, "He would. Just because Kellor beds every seafaring wench he comes across it does not mean I treat my profession with the same looseness."
The old man merely shrugged, as if he saw little wrong with a bit of "looseness".
Kella mumbled under her breath, "It's a miracle of Diana I am not an Aunt several times over by now."

Massimo ignored Kella's mutterings and looked toward his new favorite. His hands rested on the top of his cane as he beamed at the soldier.

"That was a well done wheel, young man. You can use the same principles for a hand stand, but with less momentum."

He continued to speak, gesturing with his hands dismissingly.
"Kell-bell's quaint walking trick is a matter of practice and time."

Speaking of Kell-bell, he addressed the girl without looking at her.

"Kell-bell, what would be the next suitable task?"

She glanced at Cyrus in her periphery. Her smile was almost wicked.

"Backflips in place I would think."

Sensing her malicious glee, Massimo interjected on Cyrus's behalf.

"Very well, but we'll start with hops, Kell-bells. You've got to be gentle with beginners."

"Oh," she pulled an Eyvind and winked at Cyrus, "I'm always gentle."

Inexplicably Kella, drew a bit of decorative black ribbon from her bodice and held it straight above her head.
At that signal, Massimo began his orderly description of the exercise.

"To start we will just have you jump a bit. Begin by bending your knees so the tops of your thighs are at an angle. Be careful not to make a table with the tops of your thighs, that is too low."

He paused a moment letting the picture sink in.
"Then you will spring straight up, as if pressing the earth away through the very tips of your feet. Kell-bell is holding the ribbon at eye level for you to keep your eye on throughout the move."

In response to this commentary she shook the ribbon in her hand a little.

"You are welcome to keep your focus pinned wherever is comfortable, but the ribbon may help the first few jumps. Give it a go and then we'll continue if there are no questions."

[Cyrus Marius]

The young soldier laughed along with Massimo and Kella as he held himself aloft on his hands, his face flushing from both the blood rushing to his head as well as the humor that infected the trio. It felt good to laugh, to joke and to play around, and Cyrus didn't realize until that moment how much he had missed it in his life. He had endured much hardship and loss recently in his life, and it had caused him to forget how to find humor and joy in the small, simple aspects of life.

Slowly though, he was learning to remember.

Shaking off the disquieting thoughts, Cyrus allowed himself to simply chuckle in amusement as Kella aided him in completing the cartwheel. The soldier touched down lightly on his feet and made a small flourish similar to the one the Vagaran soldier had performed upon completing her own cartwheel, then he faced her as she bowed before him.

"Yes," he responded, his voice solemn and stiff, yet undercut by the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth, "you have been."

The legionnaire smiled at her coy, playful threats, and he laughed out loud again as the Vagaran spoke about their comrade.

"Oh come now," Cyrus began, a slightly teasing tone in his voice, "I think maybe our officer-to-be might enjoy a good chew. Besides, aren't lopped off heads and life-threatening situations some sort of Vagaran courting ritual?"

With a devilish smile, the young soldier added, "In any case, how do you know the nearest soldier would succumb to your charms anyway?" Cyrus adopted a feigned nonchalance as he spoke, as if he didn't realize he was the nearest soldier.

Massimo then interjected into the two soldier's banter, and Cyrus grinned as Kella described her brother's lusty ways. Cyrus himself had something of a reputation in his youth, a fact made all the worse by his father's noble status, but Cyrus was always a wilder sort than his patrician family. He had once bedded a priestess of Haya, just to see if he could rise to the challenge. The young soldier grinned fondly at that memory, but quickly returned to the moment. He had to get his mind back on acrobatics, not acrobatics.

When Kella and her mentor began speaking of the next task for the young legionnaire to perform, his lone sapphire eye widened considerably. Backflips in place? Kella was going to find a dead and stiff lizard in her sleeping cot in a night or two, Cyrus vowed to himself. Thankfully, Massimo stepped in and saved Cyrus from the inevitable broken neck that would follow his attempted flipping, and bade Kella be gentle with her new tumbling partner.

"Oh yeah, always gentle," Cyrus replied to the Vagaran's quip, smirking back at her and returning the wink, "gentle as a wee babe, that one."

It was then time for business though, and the young soldier focused on what Massimo said about the beginnings of the flip manuver. The basics sounded simple enough, and luckily Cyrus was blessed with long and powerful limbs that aided in his physical exhertions. His thighs were corded with tight muscle from his daily runs and marching, and the spare diet of a legionnaire had left him light and lean and able to manipulate his own body weight with ease.

He adopted the stance the elderly performer instructed, adjusting his height and the position of his legs until Massimo's kindly face showed signs of approval, then he fixed his focus on the ribbon in Kella's hand. Unbidden, his cobalt gaze roamed over her form, appreciating the female form with her arms stretched sensually over her head, but again he shook the distracting thoughts from his mind and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Jumping shouldn't be too complicated," he said, reigning in his mind to apply it to the challenge before him, "I've done it once or twice before."

The young legionnaire smiled to take the bite out of his sarcasm, and with a small squat for momentum, Cyrus sprang off his legs into the air. His long limbs propelled him into the air, weight pushed from the balls of his feet and centered over his midsection to keep him from shifting directions in mid-air. He could feel his legs extending underneath him as he rose, and he tucked his legs beneath him much as someone clearing a hurdle would do. His sapphire-colored eye lingered on the black ribbon, focusing his attention on that and allowing his body to accomplish the task he had given it. He could feel how high he jumped in the air, and as he began to sink back to the ground he wondered what the verdict would be from the two veteran acrobats before him.

[Kella Greeran]

Cyrus looked to the pair after his first round of jumps, looking for some response.

Massimo smiled looking rather chipper about the display. Kella however, feigned using her ribbon to dab the corners of her eyes. Her voice climbed a notch in pitch, and became breathy all at once, as if threatening to break for joy.

"I am so… proud of you, Cyrus…"
She alternated between pressing her fingers to just below her collarbone or fluttering her hand like a fan.
"I told myself I wasn't going to cry."

Without disturbing his smile or even the weight of his stance, Massimo gave Kella's leg another good thwack with the cane. Cyrus could hear the stick whistle through the air before it met its fleshy mark.

At the stinging blow, the Vagaran didn't even budge, and barely blinked. She did, however, bite down a hot swear that would scare venerable drunks from a tavern.

"Encourage proper performance, Kell- bells. Don't pull the house down around your ears," Massimo chastised.

The woman's sarcasm was unfurled in full bloom.
"Just like you encouraged us."

Massimo's retort was like a father's methodical correction to his child.
"This is one skill in a soldier's arsenal, Kell-Bells. When you trained, the talent dictated whether you ate bread or air."

The woman grew thoughtful and a little cowed. She was wise enough to see the logic, despite the cannonball to her pride. She brushed off her discontent like a bit of dust on her sleeve. The girl was quick to temper, but quick to mend her ways. Surprisingly reasonable, all things considered.

"Good job, Cyrus. Make sure you bend your knees when you hit the ground. A most unpleasant snapping can follow if you don't." She corrected her behavior without even a slight flinch.
"Now the hard part. Pull your knees towards your chest at the height of your jump. Tuck your hands either under your knees or around your shins. The momentum will take you back."

Massimo took over on the finer points.
"You should land in roughly same spot where you began, but be quick flicking your head about to look at the ribbon again."

The black strand danced in Kella's fingers as she whirled it about to emphasize the point.
"Unless you and the earth are exploring the possibility of an intimate but abusive relationship," she chimed.

[Cyrus Marius]

OOC: Sorry for the delay again, hopefully my computer problems will be solved soon.

Cyrus flinched in sympathy as the elderly performer's walking stick whistled through the air towards Kella's leg, but he did not speak up or interject into the two's exchange. It was not his place to presume on any level to judge the relationship between his fellow soldier and her former mentor, and despite any questionable behavior or comments, he could tell that the two of them cared for and respected one another deeply.

Instead, the young legionnaire focused his attention on the lessons the Vagaran was instructing him in. When Kella described to him how to follow through with the flipping part of the manuver, Cyrus mentally repeated his previous jump in his mind and imagined, step by step, the process which Kella dictated. It seemed a matter of momentum more than anything else, different than the balancing required in a hand-stand or cartwheel, and the timing had to be accurate to stick the landing once the flip had been performed.

The soldier grinned again however at Kella's comment about the earth, and he shrugged playfully, "Well, the earth and I have been speaking about our future together, but I don't know if I'm ready for the commitment yet."

The legionnaire then prepared to attempt his first shot at a standing back-flip. He went over the directions that Kella and Massimo had given him again, and he visualized the manuver in his head before he, literally, jumped right in.

Tuck your knees,
Hands on your shins,
Flex on the landing.

With one last deep, steady breath, Cyrus sprang from his crouched position again. He could feel himself sail upward, only this time, he threw the muscles of his thighs up towards his chest as strong as he could, bringing his knees up against his ribcage and sending his whole body spinning backwards in the air. His hands flashed down and locked at the wrists around his shins, and the soldier had the distinct sensation of going upside-down in mid-air as the momentum of his jump turned his body in place.

The ground flashed by underneath him, and at the last moment, he remembered to lift his head and fix his sapphire gaze on the black ribbon that Kella held aloft. His hands relaxed their grip and his legs began to unfold as he completed the rotation, and when his body was mostly in it's proper upright position, he brought his legs down to touch down on the ground beneath him. Concious of the 'unpleasant snapping' that his fellow soldier had mentioned earlier, Cyrus flexed his knees as his feet touched the grass to allow his leg muscles to absorb the weight of his body.

His balance was slightly off however, and his focus on the ribbon distracted him from watching where his feet were placed. He placed them too close together, and his center of gravity was placed too far forward on his flexed knees. He leaned precariously forward as if he were going to pitch forward, but the young soldier pin-wheeled his arms to regain his balance and took a quick step forward to steady himself.

He straightened himself and grinned sheepishly at Kella and Massimo, but he was impressed with himself that he had been able to perform the manuver the first time. He quickly corrected himself however, and instead gave the credit to the teachers that had instructed him so well and made it easy for him to understand and emulate. He knew that the Vagaran soldier would be a wise choice to ask to teach him, much more so than many of the other sources he could have sought out to recieve instruction. The two soldiers had served together in Prime long enough to know each other's methods of operation respectably well, and Kella's choice in bringing the knowledgeable Massimo Epifanio further confirmed the Vagaran's worthiness as an instructor.

Cyrus looked again to the two of them, and waited for their critique.

[Kella Greeran]

(OOC: No worries, I have to take my time too. I need to work up momentum to muster a reply good enough for the thread, lol.)

IC:

A shockingly feminine cry came from Kella, when Cyrus hit the grass unscathed.
"Huzzah!"

The ribbon fluttered to the ground as Kella performed a quick rendition of Cyrus's trick, but hers had a touch of jubilation. It was a sudden turnabout from her previous mien. Perh