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[icy_veins]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ERIDANUS SUNGAZER. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 099.23.886.00 *** Archmage has joined 099.23.886.00 <Archmage> Hello, this is Eridanus Sungazer. <Archmage> In the event I am currently unavailable, please leave a message. <Archmage> I will answer back, promptly. If I feel you are worth the trouble.

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[icy_veins]

[Though his stamina, agility, and stance has greatly improved—it is another thing entirely to stand toe to toe with Lucius the Eternal once more. He can sense much more acutely the difference between them, see where he can bridge the gap, only for the blademaster to leap away from him again. It's frustrating, in many ways, and in many more it only serves to encourage his continued improvement.

With his blow parried, Eridanus flicks his saber to the side, panting his breaths as he watches Lucius pirouette away with the grace of a danseur. In his off-hand, Eridanus tests his grip on his short-blade, flexing his fingers around it and griping it anew with a firm yet delicate hold.]

I have not been practicing so vigorously for any reason other than striking you, Lucius, [Eridanus smiles between his panting breaths, his own tail wagging behind him with excitement.] Surely I will earn more of your praise this day.

[His saber is relaxed at his side, and with a start that is more leap than stride, Eridanus closes in on his lover. He pulls his blade upwards, a flash of arching silver that rips through the air with a practiced speed and finesse. Though it's unlikely the cut will land, nevertheless, his aim is for the very same spot Lucius once engraved his chest.]

[chemoscion]

[ Surely I will earn more of your praise this day—the words are a vow, a promise of pain, and with their sweet sound, blood floods his limbs with a heat grander than that of mere exertion. Lucius' ears flick back—not pinned in a posture of anger, but angled instead with the thirst of a hunter. As Eridanus' stance shifts, weight rebalanced and muscles tensed in the barest fraction of a second, Lucius' tongue licks over his teeth with bestial hunger.

The strikes is, in its way, beautiful: well-rendered and swift, glittering opal and silver alike a liquid blur of motion. Still, no amount of graceful splendor can hide just how ostentatious Eridanus' attempt is; rather than aim for a beginner's target, the tip of that sabre grasps for his heart.

This time, Lucius doesn't reflect the blow. Rather, he spins aside from it, a laugh on his lips as nimble feet pull him far enough that his lover may meet his grinning eyes. ]

I commend the arrogance, [ Lucius taunts, the same as he would any other opponent, and in his hands, he rotates his own sabre easily within his grip. ] Sadly, you have work enough cut out for you just aiming for an arm or a cheek.

[ Abruptly, his weight shifts on the balls of his face. The idle spin of the blades in his hands quickens, and in the blink of an eye, his palms close around their hilts in a new grip entirely. It's a stance Eridanus should recognize immediately—given that it's the very same as his own, Lucius having entertained him more than long enough to present a flawless copy.

The sword stroke that carries him forward is flawless as well. The native sword style Eridanus has presented to him is intended for bodies far more lithe than he had possessed as an Astartes, just the same as Eldar's had been—but it suits just perfectly for the form he wears now, he finds, his shape as a manticore as sleek and nimble as any he could ask for. In a cruel blend of malice and flirtation, his lips pull wide. ]

Perhaps start with an eye!

[ Naturally, that is the intention behind this demonstration, the falchion held in Lucius' off-hand primed to deflect any attempted riposte as that lightning-quick strike draws him near. ]

[icy_veins]

[More than a battleground, the sterile floors of their arena feel more akin to that of a ballroom's parquet. As Eridanus' strike cuts through the air with deadly force, Lucius spins around it, their forms caught in a flirtatious dance as they twirl around one another. The motion carries him a few steps farther, until he too turns on elongated toes and swaying steps to face his consort once more.

But even with such a playful taunt, or perhaps because of it, Eridanus knows he cannot relax even for a moment. His swords are up, defensive—though the moment he recognizes the new stance Lucius has taken, he can't help the slight falter in his guard. To flawlessly mimic the Rim'falen style is something he could only expect of the Eternal, and yet, it still awes him to see it before him. Though he knows he could never outplay an eleven-thousand year old blademaster, perhaps the adopted style will give him advantage.

In the span of a breath, his grip on his sabre and short-blade shifts. Eridanus raises his own saber to greet Lucius' in a flash of silver, the sound of metal clashing with metal resounding in the air between them. Where the falchion is concerned, he tries to meet its edge against the handguard of his short-blade. Dual-wielding, though, remains Lucius' specialty—the falchion easily deflecting his strike and leaving him open.]

To adopt Bash'a Anar so easily, [Eridanus huffs as he shoves himself away from Lucius before that falchion can find the tender meat of his belly,] I shouldn't say I am surprised, and yet... I am.

[He smiles, though his panting breaths and sweat-slicked skin are proof enough that even trying his very best, Lucius remains untouchable. Eridanus isn't content to let it remain that way, of course.]

What is that saying, I believe I heard it somewhere recently... shoot for the moon, and even if you miss, you will land among the stars?

[Eridanus doesn't waste time in charging for Lucius again, his blades primed. If either blade is raised to guard or riposte, he'll meet it with his short-blade—allowing his sabre the free motion to swing low for his consort's legs.]

[chemoscion]

[ Eridanus backs away, and Lucius lets him go, ever the cat toying with a broken-winged bird. If his desire were merely for Eridanus' head, he would not give him the space to draw those haggard breaths; however, he does, idle on the balls of his feet as he receives his lover's awe. ]

It loses something without the play of long and short, unfortunately, [ he hums, conversational, and briefly, he spins the falchion in his off-hand to remeasure the way it sits within his palm. ] This weapon wasn't made for it as yours was.

[ And yet, he doesn't drop the stance. When Eridanus draws near enough to answer with his short-blade, Lucius' falchion slices through the air to meet its edge—but it's that very same understanding of the interplay of distance that signals to him the weapon is a mere decoy. Again, he puts his superior agility to work; he turns in a half-step to meet sabre-to-sabre, and rather than placing teasing distance between them this time, he bears the motion to its completion. It carries him around to Eridanus' vulnerable side, and he drives his falchion's sloping tip toward the space beneath Eridanus' ribs. ]

[icy_veins]

[Caught in the entanglement of blades, Eridanus feels the way the weight in Lucius' falchion shifts. The way it slides and presses against the cross-guard of his shorter blade, the vibrations of smooth metal gliding across metal felt in the palm of his hand. Where there's a gap between their sheer strength, Lucius makes up for it in a quickness both practiced and gifted in his feline form. Even if he were to leap from the attack, in such close proximity, the tip of that blade would still find its mark.

So, with no other choices left to him, Eridanus decides in that microsecond that softening the blow is his best chance. A subtle shift in his footing has him turning just as well, just enough so that the tip of Lucius' falchion finds the tougher meat of his back. Still, it wedges into the stone-flesh and pulls a breathless grunt of pain from Eridanus' throat.

Regardless of the wound now soaking his shirt bloody, he focuses his attentions on his short-blade—glancing it off of the falchion and driving upwards towards Lucius' arm. To the onlooker, they would look like nothing so much as lovers entangled within an impassioned embrace; and yet, for Eridanus, he only has the thought of driving his short-sword into the tender meat of Lucius' bicep in his mind.]

[chemoscion]

[ As Lucius feels the cut of his blade into the rocky slab of Eridanus' back, his eyes narrow. The hardness of its flesh holds his weapon there, a sword in the stone, a second longer than he would like; still, that second too long forces him to forego a second strike, Lucius winching his weight onto his back foot to make the space to intercept that stabbing attack with his sabre, the weapon awkwardly long in the slim gap between them.

The falchion gripped by Eridanus' ungiving skin slips free; this time, Lucius does skirt back again, shaking blood from its edge with his eyes narrowed to predatory slits. ]

I don't know whether I should commend you or scold you for that. [ It certainly isn't a maneuver that would have saved him in his rightful shape. He exhales through his nose, tongue slithering between his lips as though tasting the air, as his eyes drop to the broad expanse of Eridanus' chest. ]

Funny, [ he muses, expression glinting with sudden mischief as his gaze flits back to Eridanus' own. ] Right now, this stance would seem to suit me more than it does you, Archmage.

[icy_veins]

[As Lucius puts space between them, so does Eridanus—a few nimble steps, just enough to have the time to formulate his next move. Still, he isn't sure if the expression his consort wears, regardless of his words, is one of irritation or recognition of a proper foe. In the idle span of his thoughts, his grip on his saber loosens, and despite that his skin were like stone, he rolls his shoulder as if trying to ease the throbbing pain in his back.]

Unfortunately, [and as he continues, Eridanus adjusts his grip once more,] I bear the wrong sword for any other style.

[A longer sword, perhaps even one meant to be wielded with two hands, would be better suited to his aggressive form. A nimble sword-style was meant for a nimble race—though if he were to cast aside his off-hand, Eridanus wonders just how well he could fight without it.]

Would you prefer I fight you in a more bestial way, my Eternal?

[chemoscion]

[ Like the heated breath of a lover against his throat, the question washes excitement down Lucius' spine. Beneath the cloth of his shirt—for there would be no honor in meeting an unarmored opponent in anything more—the fur decorating his skin stands on end; the cage of his fangs parts where a rictus grin had pulled it taut, and his tongue lolls free to lick the air with an eager hunger.

He recalls what it had been like—but that had only been seen secondhand, and now, the thought of finding himself overwhelmed by his lover's bestial strength tightens his muscles with shuddering desire. It's a question answered first with laughter, his paired blades twirling restless patterns through the air at his sides. ]

I was going to say I could teach you, the way you have so graciously taught me. [ His grin pulls the muscles of his face taut once more, but even so, the heated gaze that meets Eridanus' swims with his lust still. It's a fair joke, that a marine's style better suits Eridanus in kind, but...

Lucius' weight shifts, falling onto his back foot, and the falchion in his off-hand raises in the air between them. ]

Here. Maybe this would look better in your hand.

[ It isn't a heavy blade, made for graceful slicing movement above all, but it is what had suited Lucius for the last ten millennia or so. ]

[icy_veins]

[Exertion rises and falls his chest with panting breaths, Eridanus' verdant gaze settled upon Lucius unblinking, watching him with a predator's interest as the offer remains hanging in the air. He's known his lover long enough now to recognize when something has caught his attention—the way his tail flicks, the way his pupils tighten into umbral slits, the way his arms strain with barely contained excitement, and of course, the way his serpentine tongue lolls past his lips like some scenting organ. All of it shivers through his skin, whipping his own tufted tail through the air with a hound's eagerness to please.

And then, his master's answer comes, and before words have even formed in his mind to respond, Eridanus' tip-toing steps carry him forward. That space that Lucius had put between them is shortened in just two long strides, stopping just shy enough that when Eridanus looks down upon his consort, he would be able to feel the heat of each excited pant that left his own, parted lips.]

You would allow me to use your falchion? [He asks, the question redundant as he raises his left hand—still clutching his dagger—and offers the off-handed weapon in return.] I am greatly honored.