"Sure yeh ain't get nuffin' better t'do?"
Head shake.
"All the nobs where they should be? None of 'em wanderin'?"
Nod.
"When's last time y'saw Belly, or-"
"Stop stallin', wanker!"
Kasoria rolled his eyes and looked around Mikiros (which took some shuffling all by itself, given the man's size). Raand was selflessly relegating himself to the role of spectator this time around. Seated on a bench, snacking on an apple, and enjoying both the show and his own shit-arsed contributions to it. Kasoria gave him a scowl but part of him welcomed the distraction. Battle was full of them, after all. More than that, a mage's biggest hindrance was their own mind's capacity to wander, fracturing their concentration, diluting their ether.
Let the tosser run his mouth. Adds to the challenge.
tap-tap
The sound of the heater shield's pointed base smacking into the ground got Kasoria's attention back to Miki. He saw a quirked eyebrow, an impatient grimace, just tinged with accusation... and he sighed, nodding. Yes, he did let the bastard get to him. Wasn't that always the way with friends? The giant raised his longsword and then gestured to Kasoria's empty hands. The smaller man shook his head firmly.
"Nah. Gonna see what I can do wiv'out it, ken?
"oo gn av un wun iz real"
As always, it took a few trills to run that through the filter. But that didn't mean it didn't, nor that he couldn't see the wisdom. All of The Band did, for they'd all known Mikiros long enough to become used to the mangled, vowel-chewing, word-chopping Common he spoke when simple gestures weren't enough. He raised a good point, too. He rarely allowed himself to be without some kind of weapon. Most times he used his magics, it was in a fight... and then, there was usually a blade in his hand, too.
Then he remembered the last time he'd sparred. Raand's falchion coming for him, faster and faster. The focus he'd needed, the whiff of desperation crystalizing his concentration out of sheer necessity. No weapon in his hands save his hands, and the ether he wielded. Yet he'd managed to survive the bout.
The more you advance, the tougher the tests need to be. You taught like that; stand by it now.
"Nah. Not this time." He holds up a hand as h sees Mikiros' face start to contort, frown of concern already crushing his eyes. "Din' worry 'bout it, mate. I handled Raand-"
"It was sparring, arsehole."
"-an' I know youse can control dat sticker a' yours well as he can his. So..."
He walked over to the table next to the bench, already summoning his Spark. It was eager as he was, flitting through his nerves and bones and pulsing twice the speed of his heart. He reached out with his right hand, fingers splayed, and called the power in him. Eyes open, but mind empty. Forcing out Raand's loud chewing, Mikiros' heavy breathing, the sounds of a full and turgid city beyond the courtyard walls, and he-
Reach.
Closed an invisible hand around the simple wooden sand timer, the same one he'd used before. Raand and Mikiros both popped their eyebrows in surprise when they saw their leader turn it over without coming within three feet of it. But as his hand moved, so did the glass. And once the sand started flowing, he turned, raised his fists and let the meager emerald haze around him flare into blazing life.
"On yeh come, wee man."
