I flinch, again. 

Okay, she knows a trauma response when she sees one. 

"Alright stop this, it's over, right now. Take that off, and come meet with me again."

"...Okay."

The process for stripping this is relatively simple - robotic, even, when I get to that point - the assist of the system guiding my hands more then me doing anything to actually make things happen, once I slink back into that little cubby. 

...I stare at my dress, for a good long minute, before putting it back on and slinking out, eyes downcast. 

"You're not in trouble. I'm here to help you, and to teach you, not to declare you unworthy or scold you." 

She sighs, and tetches. 

"You did fine - Most people don't ever figure out that they can do what you did. There's nothing wrong with trying to win a spar, and there's nothing wrong with being unable to. The point of the exercise is to find out what you can do. You clearly don't have much training, but you have a passable instinct and a workable sense of what is getting in your way and the ability to focus yourself on getting through that. That's good - great, even. I've met Knights who can't figure out the first of their options with powers that are supposed to be completely instinctual and internalized. You just need a foundation, and to get past that flinch."

I nod. 

"This seems... a bit premature, at least in terms of using the functions. It felt fine, I suppose, and I could probably defend myself passably against low-skilled attackers with this but..."

She nods.

"They're enchanted well, but the scope of the learning they promote is fairly narrow. You're adapting to the concept of a fight like this, and the options. It won't promote your fundamentals, like this. Get yourself a blade, and I can show you something to start."

"...Thank you." 

I smile, a bit shyly, and go off to grab the sword Amaya selected for me, that good while ago, which is of course right by the stage, before taking my time to come back. 

She smiles lightly, and steps into a low stance, an unadorned sword appearing in her hand. 

"Come here, and try to mimic what I'm doing." 

I walk over, and settle in. 

It's... awkward, how low it is, the way that my feet have to splay out that little bit and the way that my shoulders and hips have to pivot to keep facing forward, with the way that the firmness of the stance anchors without being too constraining is... odd, especially given how much the extra frame of the power armour makes the translation of the base physicality of it... strange. 

The sword fit naturally in my hand, at least, and it was simple enough to make it hang just in front of my chest in place, the point angled up around her chest.

She takes a quick half-step and slashes, stopping before her shoulder. 

"Try this." 

The shuffle step is pretty odd still - though the brevity's advantage seems pretty obvious, and my feet manage to mostly stay in the same configuration as I work to follow her instructions. 

She steps back and wordlessly looks forward.

And again. 

I try to keep it a bit smoother, hand and shoulders a bit looser. 

"And back." 

It takes a little longer then I expect, to step back and slip into place - the arch up and down with the wieght low takes some getting used to not feel lie I'm tripping over myself, it seems .

The rest of the session blurs, a little - the footwork is something I'll just have to drill ''til it's natural enough, and the guiding presses of her hand and the cleanly outlined arcs and emphasis lines make the slices somewhat more parseable to my instincts into something that can clean up the forces of the swing, with some work. 

I can feel the gentle tug of the adjustments - the enshrouding hug easing up in just the right place to get my hips to align right wit hmy shoulders, to keep my hands recovering swiftly from each overextension and to help let me tug back the 'missed' strokes, alongside whatever she's contributing to the more magical effects I can probably feel something, from the way taht the flicker of hr weapon shifts as she shows me her motions, the way that she can see the tiny trembles in my arms in a way that I'd figure would be concealed by the frame but...

At the end of the day, it's still progress. 

She smiles softly. 

"And that should be all, for now. Good work with getting down the basics. Feel free to continue drilling the footwork and the fundamental motions, and please call me when you'd like further instruction." 

I smile lightly as I walk with her back to the changing area after dropping off the blade - no need to be careless, even if the custodial faculties are perfectly capable of managing that sort of thing. As I strip, I take the time to stretch out, feeling the languid stinging warmth that built up in my muscles from the simple repetitions.

"I'm glad that went well - it feels like... everything and nothing at all, in a way." 

"That's rather the nature of fundamentals. Anyways." 

She grabs a cloth, and towels off her seemingly clear face off before turning back to her. 

"You said you wanted to do a meal, too?"

"Yeah, even if I'm a bit low on..." 

I sigh, and clean myself up a bit too. 

"Words." 

She shrugs. 

"Either way, I'll leave a seat for you, and there's no need to talk."

I swap in, 'nd follow her - the stunted bush of the gym fadin' out into the bloody tree of the ships geometry, leadin' we to the swish space that Alena ended up takin' as her spot.

't's all silver and steel, plain glass and darkness split with the bursts of light of the distant stars twinklin', the complete with a full on wrack of all the bottles of wine 'nd weirder things arrayed out into a vst trophy case right 'hind the bar. The lights are if anything unphysically directional, but it makes it the sorta place that I can tolerate when my eyes are actin' up, so I can't 'xactly complain. 

Conjurin' up a proper glass bottle of iced tea w/ the sys is a work f a quick few secs typin' out, and settling into the seat is a satisfying' second after a bounce on my butt. 

'll keep it to this for now - we're a bit numb, but eh. 

I twist off the ap, and waft in the mist, snifing deeply and contentedly. 

"Nice pick, by the way." 

She sighs, and grabs herself a glass of something harsher - a heady red wine sloshing away in her cup. 

"It's a good place - if a bit morose."

I hum and swish the deep, dark fluid 'round the glass, before swigging aa good chuck of it. 

"So. Questions from or for me, 'f we're gonna be doin' that sorta thin'?"

I sigh contentedly and a bit throatily at the satisfying chill. 

't's good, and right now I couldn't give the faintest fuck in terms of body modesty, right now - the ruffled hair feels nice and the bitta mess and muss from the whole endevour just feels more like it's settlin' into me more.