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On the training field, Kella's eyes began to wander a little. She craned on her toes to see past heads and shoulders and observe the bare-chested soldiers' training. By the curious way she raised her eyebrows, it seemed that she was watching something more than the mens' techniques.
Rabalyn's stocky and sweating frame suddenly overwhelmed her line of sight as Eyvind gestured him near, a none too pleasant vision for Kella.
Crestfallen was an understatement for the expression that swiftly passed over her face, as the barrel shaped man barricaded her from the more graceful specimens. Sure they were all brothers in arms, but it wasn't as if they never gave a look. Kella would describe it as an innocent appreciation of the more handsome things in life, and she was a good girl. Look a little, but don't touch.
Kella dropped her things in a little pile, unhooking her sword belt. She accepted the padding but frowned a little sadly. For a while, she'd been enjoying the freedom of light armor and Elven mail. The smaller Vagaran relied on an amount of agility to maintain some upper hand on her opponents, but then she had been playing with daggers in the past month instead of the brutish sword she was now picking up.
When Eyvind asked point blank if she was ready, Kella entered the circle and scoffed "Aeternia, no." But her devil-may-care smile preceded an adoption of a proper stance, her right foot was slightly ahead of her left, roughly shoulder width apart. If Kella was anything, she was light on her feet, her weight distributed with an acrobat's sense of balance pressing on the balls of her feet.
"But that's never stopped me before."
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