Chapter Text
Anelli's relief at having her things at hand was not feigned as she kissed Phyra briefly and scrambled to drag in the sacks that had lain in the big wagon.
"These aren't mine," she said in confusion upon finding an unfamiliar sack heavy with weapons and armor. In an idle, expert glance, Phyra took in the collection-- far too much for one soldier-- and made her verdict.
"Clearly Dagith has brought a variety of armaments to be tested for weight and fit. You'll still practice with mock weapons for the time being, but you'll need to get accustomed to the feel of steel and hide as well."
She watched her young squire sort through the four swords, touch lingering and nervous. The overt menace of sharpened steel whose sole purpose was to harm was very different than wargames with a weighted, shaped stick. She bit back a warning as Anelli chose a middling-length blade that would suit her stature. Now was not the time to fuss as a lover; now she must be Captain and let the girl take further steps towards being soldier and warrior. It was an old, well-made sword ground narrow with years of sharpening.
"A good blade, to still be sound after so many grindings," Phyra noted idly, aware of Anelli looking over at her even as she continued to eat. "You've good instincts. Though it will need a better scabbard by the rattle it made leaving that one. What of the armor?"
Conflicted, but clearly bolstered by the matter-of-fact commentary on the process, Anelli flinched at the clatter of the chainmail tunic, dropping it as though burned, and was unimpressed with the heavy horsehide reinforced with seemingly decorative curlicues. Phyra nodded to herself as the small hands dug into the supple leather completely patterned with small steel diamond shapes just visible between the layers.
"Good choice, the scale; an excellent balance of protection and weight that will still let you move. That's a very small suit though, you'll have to wear it beneath your winter clothes. We'll test out the fit later in the ring and make modifications to your body. Leave off for now, darling, and come here."
Willingly, Anelli did as bidden, snuggling into Phyra's body and the blankets pulled around them. For a very long time they lay in easy quiet, Anelli's body quiet even as her mind raced like a wild horse. When she did speak, there was a hesitance and quiet to her that was as foreign as the feel of the long, deadly steel had been.
"I... I think that your observation that perhaps I hadn't truly thought this through may have more merit than I had first acknowledged."
Only when it was clear that the younger woman was not going to speak again, did Phyra murmur quietly, her tone somber and intent. "Holding a sword for the first time is a sobering experience and should be such. The dagger, the bow and hammer and shield can all be for mundane tasks, to hunt or carry or the like. But a sword truly bears only one purpose and that is to slay another being. Each soldier and warrior has to make their own peace with that, Darling, but you will not be alone in this."
Lazy kisses warmed both, alleviating the stress and building the adoration between them. A building inadvertently interrupted by Anelli when she spoke without thinking.
"I don't know that I could kill someone else."
Torn between sympathy for her stress and a strong desire to chuckle affectionately, Phyra tugged her new lover close and fell into kisses and caresses with more direct intent.
"We shall hope you never need to find out your capabilities in that respect. Come now, forget the possibilities for the moment and let me love you again."