It isn't a fight Eleven is taking terribly seriously beyond measuring skill; he enjoys the fight and flashes a smile with every successfully parried strike or narrowly evaded blow. Spars are a wonderful way to enjoy that thrill with low stakes, coming alive from his usual reserve and tempered shyness to put himself to the test. It speaks to trust beyond lending his own blade to someone that could have easily become an enemy.
He doesn't have any insight to Archeval's movements beyond his physical tells, but there's something about this fight that almost feels familiar, the way Archeval comes in closer, forced to fend him off. In dueling with real weapons, bloodshed is almost inevitable, and it comes as a shallow cut across his shoulder. Eleven winces, then laughs through the slight sting of it and fights harder to change the tide of their spar, to force Archeval back on defense. Content now that he understands the man's skill level as it compares to his own- a touch faster, more intuitive- so that he doesn't have to worry about holding back as much anymore himself.
no subject
He doesn't have any insight to Archeval's movements beyond his physical tells, but there's something about this fight that almost feels familiar, the way Archeval comes in closer, forced to fend him off. In dueling with real weapons, bloodshed is almost inevitable, and it comes as a shallow cut across his shoulder. Eleven winces, then laughs through the slight sting of it and fights harder to change the tide of their spar, to force Archeval back on defense. Content now that he understands the man's skill level as it compares to his own- a touch faster, more intuitive- so that he doesn't have to worry about holding back as much anymore himself.
"You fight like... someone I know."