swordplay [private]

When Owen was first given his new celestial bronze sword, he was like 'Holy mother of God is this real steel?' Turned out it was celestial bronze, but that was beside the point. He was thirteen years old and he had a badass sword in his hand. Man, all the kids in his class would have been burning with jealousy. Swordplay was pretty cool in TV - how awesome would it be in real life? Beyond awesome! If, you know, Owen could actually wield his sword right.

Owen was sweating bullets now, both from exhaustion and how hot his armor made him feel. His sparring partner was relentless, jabbing here and there like some persistent wasp. What was it with this guy? Didn't he get tired or something? Owen parried the boy's sword but he was too quick, twisting around his grip and managing to point the blade at his neck. His pulse racing and his lungs out of air, Owen raised both hands up in surrender, his own sword clanging to the ground. "Okay, you're good. Now please point that thing somewhere else, yeah?" He tried to ignore how his voice sounded higher than usual.

"You need serious work, Wright," the boy sneered, withdrawing his weapon. Owen's sigh of relief was audible as he picked his sword up. He could hear the boy's laughs as he reteated, but Owen wasn't that bothered. One day, he'll be an epic swordsman, and he'll be making that boy beg for mercy at his feet. The thought brought a smile to his lips. He resumed another stance, this time facing an imaginary enemy.

"En garde!" He took a mean swipe at the air, imagining his sword slicing a ninja's side (okay so he might have been watching too much Naruto). With a triumphant 'whoop', he pretended to weave in and out of his enemy's blows. "I am Owen Wright, the best swordsman alive!" he said, spinning and sticking the sword out at another imaginary ninja, only to stop so suddenly. He had struck the air inches from another demigod's throat. If he hadn't stopped himself for one more second... he could've sliced someone's head off.

Owen quickly pulled his sword back, terror and nervousness in his emerald eyes. "I - I didn't mean to -"

The first thing Owen registered was relief. He hadn't killed someone! Yay! The next thing was... still relief. The boy wasn't mad! Yay! A sheepish grin played on Owen's lips as he slid the sword back in its sheath, preferably before he could really slice anyone's body part off. He nodded. "It's a lot to take in. The last time I held a sword, it was plastic and lit up like a rainbow when you pressed a button on its hilt." Realizing what he just said, Owen cleared his throat and said in a somewhat deeper voice, "But that was a long time ago, I mean. A long long time ago..."

His eyes wandered down towards the knife in the boy's hand. A knife. Come to think of it, he'd seen him a few moments ago before he started practicing, sparring with another kid. Owen didn't pay it much heed at first. He was too busy trying to make sure he'd worn his armor the right way. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't realized how the blond's weapon was way shorter than his foe's, and the thought made Owen's eyes grow big and his mouth opening in a mixture of surprise and awe. "You're fighting a sword with a knife," he stated unnecessarily, shifting his impressed eyes back to his face. "You must be really good, considering you're not dead yet."

It was then that Owen caught a brief flicker of movement behind the boy. A flash of celestial bronze, aimed for the blond's back.

"HEY!" Owen stepped to the side and pulled his sword back out. Metal clanged as both blades met. The other boy was seething, revenge written all over his eyes. Looked like a sore loser. "Attacking when your opponent's back is turned, not cool," Owen managed to force out through gritted teeth. Damn, the other guy was stronger than he looked...

"Nah, a long time ago as in... just the other day." Owen continued to grin sheepishly until a chuckle finally escaped his lips. "No really, I don't even remember how long it's been."

Owen let out another chuckle at the older boy's not-so-humble comment. He wasn't bothered, really. The thing with growing up with someone who had a head as big as the earth was that you learned how to get used to such remarks, especially if they were accompanied by a smirk. But before he could make another comment, Owen got distracted by the sneak attack.

"Anytime," he grunted, but damn this guy was strong. Or Owen might just be that scrawny. The other boy snarled and with one swift movement, he maneuvered his blade so it went right around Owen's and met the blond's attempt to stab him at the side. Owen backed away a couple of steps, panting and hesitant.

He was far from being the amazing swordsman. Very far. Hadn't he just been beaten up by that other kid so effortlessly? Hadn't he almost carelessly beheaded another? For a brief moment Owen wanted to drop his sword as though it was a disgusting disease, but something stopped his fingers from uncurling around the hilt. He couldn't tell what, but it may have been the very same 'something' that made him lunge, swinging the sword in an arc to his right, aiming for the boy's other side. He probably wouldn't be able to deflect two attacks coming from both sides, right?