Gossamar sat ontop of a could above the training area her white silver like hair falling past her shoulders as she watched the fighters train. Oh how she envied them! How they could fight and fend for themselves, no one thinking that they needed protection, that they were week. People often thought that Gossamer needed protection because of her relitivly small size, she was tall but very thin and fragile looking. But she wanted people to think she was brave and strong like those guys! Not week. Yes she was a proud creature of the air.
Gossmar watched the men intently and sat with her knees under her everyonce in a while clapping, she clapped for a particular young man who seemed to hit every target. Gossmar lay on her stomach and leaned over the cloud to watch. Her grey eyes sparkled as the fighters won and lost pretend battles.
Gossmar switched over onto her back with her head upside down over the could her hair falling past as she watched the world upside down. They only pretend in that arena not really fight, maybe she could pretend with them! And maybe she would even win! Gossamer thought of her gonig down to meet a dashing young man in a sword fight, she thought about it with a pretend sword in her hand and winning therefore impressing him. Yes that is how she would want it to go.
As Gossamer was contimplating that and playing arround with her imagination she was slowly slipping off the cloud and with the last thrust of her pretned sword she fell right off her fluffy white cloud. Because she was a nymph she had the ability to dance on air weightless, but being Gossamer that possabiliyt left her mind so as she fell she fell like a white rock. And she nearly hit the ground too. However she was caught, well not really caught someone attempted to catch her but she brought them down with her.
Gossamer put a hand to her forehead. She hit the ground hard, but some one cushioned her fall! Gossmar suddenly felt bad for the person she had fallen on. She got up, tried to make sure her hair wasnt too wild and giggled.
"I am sooo sorry! I didnt really mean that!" She said trying not to laugh.

Ah, it's good to be back here again.

So thought Lyon as he walked through the training arena, his eyes watching the other fighters as they hacked away at each other with wooden swords. To him, there was nothing more satisfying than a day of hard work honing his skill with a blade. It had been far too long since he had properly trained. Now, hopefully he could get some honest, hard, beneficial work in. Removing his cloak, the mercenary reached into a barrel that had been set up, and pulled out of it a wooden sword, which was just like the countless others that were currently in use. After testing it's weight in his hand and giving it an experimental swing, he nodded in satisfaction. Then he casually leaned against a fence that surrounded the training area and watched for a potential sparring partner.

Suddenly, something just above him caught his attention. Lyon looked up immediately, and instead of moving, he just stood there, watching. It was all to quick for him to react. Reflexively, his arms shot out, which was probably a stupid move on his part. Normally, you would want to get away from whatever was falling on you. Maybe his mind was just working sluggishly. In any case, the whatever-it-was fell on top of him, too fast for him to stop the fall. He was slammed to the ground, with something softer than he had expected on top of him.

"Ow..." the mercenary groaned as the weight suddenly left his back. He struggled to stand up, wincing every few seconds. His body ached all over! Irritably, he turned to confront whatever strange object had decided to land on him. He expected it to be some large bird of some sort. What he saw surprised him greatly.

"Well, I would think not," the mercenary replied grumpily to the girl's words. "I would be rather annoyed if you decided to fall on me on purpose." Lyon frowned at her. Why was she laughing? She could've killed him! This wasn't the kind of situation he would find amusing. But, hey, people's sense of humor varied, did it not?

"If you don't mind me asking," he asked, examining her closely in an attempt to figure out just what exactly she was, "could you tell me how exactly you managed to fall out of the sky? It seems like a difficult thing to do, and I'm quite curious." He grimaced at his aching head as he said this, and reached a hand up to massage his temple. Gods, he was surprised he hadn't broken any bones!

Gossamer frowned, she really did feel bad and it most likely hurt him more than her, though it was nice of him to not kill her all together. Gossamer straightened her clothes and run an hand through her hair. He thought she was annoying, great! she had only said a couple words to the man half of her was hurt, the other didnt care, she wanted ot be happy not sad.
"Yea I guess it would! Well I was just up on a cloud watching the people practice, it entertians me greatly. I'm an air nymph, I can dance on the air like its real floor. I'm sorry that I fell on you...I really am." She smiled at him.
She also looked arround there were people training! She wanted to play, she wanted to sit on the ground and watch somemore but she thought it may be kinda rude to just sit down right infront of some one. But she did already fall out of the sky right onto him that in and of itself is not the nicest thing in the world.
Then it occured to her maybe he was a worrior! "Do you train here also, I think its way cool and I admire those that do, honestly its amazing." She said without saying that she couldnt neccisarily do it also.
Gossamer looked arround with large grey eyes, and played with a peice of her white hair, she simply couldnt stand still for one moment it was against her nature, so there she stood fidiling with her hair.

"Ah, an air nymph...that explains it." Lyon nodded to her, and then realized that his words most have come out rather harshly. Why did that always happen? Oh well, mercenaries weren't supposed to have good social skills, anyway.

"Ah, it's okay," he told her, showing a small half-smile. "I'm not dead, at least, and to someone like me that's all that matters. Just be careful, alright? Next time you may not have a nice, soft human skeleton to break your fall." The mercenary winced. There, he had done it again! To him, nothing sounded wrong with that statement. It was his idea of humor. But he had realized over the course of several years that most people found his sarcastic, caustic jokes to be offensive. Oh well, it was too late now, once said words could not be taken back.

Upon being asked whether or not he trained here, the mercenary grunted and nodded, raising the wooden sword he had in his hand to show her he was telling the truth. He looked around at all those fighting and back to the nymph. She stuck out like a sheep in a den of wolves. Of course, there were always plenty of people coming here just to watch the combatants.

Perhaps you'd like to spar? I was just looking for a partner," he said, his tone more joking than serious. She looked far too fragile to be considered a fighter. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. Two years as a professional sellsword had taught him that one judged by appearances only at their own peril. The scrawniest of men had amazed him with their speed, the most soft and fragile women had astounded onlookers with their ferocity. No, he determined people's skills though the way an experienced warrior should, through watching and testing them himself.

Gossmar smiled broadly at him when she saw he wasnt completely mad, he even half smiled back! She laughed at his joke though he winced as though he thought it was mean to say, and to some it would have been, but she was also a sarcastic and synical creature herself.
"I'll just make sure to fall on YOU next time scince you enjoy it sooo much." She said pushing his shoulder lightly. She could often take a joke, but if it continued for a long time then she could get rather annoyed, but this was funny and not at all that insulting, two could play at that game.
Gossamer could not belive her ears, spar? She had no idea in the least how to even hold a sword let alone stab somone, but she was too prideful to let a boy know that, nope she would have to spar and win. She sighed, she was affraid she would loose.
Gossamer leaned up agaisnt the container holding the swords and ofcourse she nearly fell over when it came tumbling down thankfully the swords stayed inside. She blushed, picked up a sword with false dignaty and held it infront of her akwardly. "Go for it!" She said smiling.

Lyon grinned as he watched the girl attempt to pick up and hold the sword. It was clear she was entirely new to this. Surprisingly, that was...refreshing. It seemed like that only people he was ever around were battle-hardened warriors who thought about nothing but killing. The fact that there were still a few in the world that maintained innocence was a relief. It meant that there was still a shred of civilization, and that not everyone was focused on fighting.

Lyon examined her stance with critical eyes, and walked over beside her to try to help her out. "No, no, you'll trip over your own feet if you try to fight like that!" He took the stance that he himself used, as an example for her to follow. "Turn you body sideways, but keep your feet and head facing forward. Hold your sword vertically, with a slight slant going forward. This is a good defensive position, as it enables you to protect your entire body with the slightest movement. It's also easy to adjust to allow you to make a good, hostile attack. This is the form that most mercenaries take when beginning a duel, and is quite effective." He nodded at her encouragingly, then went back to his own place and took the stance he had just described, eyes staring straight ahead at her as he watched for her make the changes he had stated.

Lyon was surprised at himself. It felt incredibly satisfying to try to help someone in their fighting skills. It reminded him of Kiem, his old teacher. How long had it really been since he had seen his master? Two years? The fellow was still alive, and Lyon had visited Ondolond several times. There really was no reason for him to avoid him, so why not pay him a visit. The mercenary immediately made a vow that the next time he traveled to Ondolond, he would hunt down the old swordmaster and have a nice, long talk with him.