𝕻𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖚𝖒 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲]

𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬

 "That's the idea." Mordo commented as his gaze fell to Stephen, "Strange, you've come to join us?"

 "I'll just be watching... Thanks."

 This, of course, plied a snort from Emilia who twirled the stick in her hand before jolting the dulled end towards Stephen, catching his stomach, "Are you sure? I think you need a session... Or twelve."

 The pole struck him again, swiftly dodging his attempts in swiping it away and all that could fall from his lips was a childish huff. He relented, shaking hands falling back to his side once Emilia ceased her striking, "Fine."

 Mordo had stood silently as he watched the interaction unfold; Emilia trusted him, she trusted many masters and students within the Kamar-Taj, and Mordo truly believed that the friendship he'd formed with the woman was a rare one indeed... And yet the display before him was one to be in awe of.

 A former physicist who had to leave her life behind in the fear of hurting more people than she already had; one riddled with sadness and anxiety that kept her up at night, and stunted her growth by day.

 A surgeon whose ego and arrogance stole his life and career from him. A man in a place still unknown to him, surrounded by so many strangers, and a man who had lost the ability to use his hands to their fullest.

 Two people so different and yet so similar.

 It was odd, yet refreshing to Mordo to see the quirk of Stephen's lip whenever Emilia teased him, it was a wonder to see Emilia laugh as though her past was but a distant memory whenever she was around the former surgeon.

 Each of them, though they might not have noticed it as much as he, had changed one another; they were each other's comfort, it was obvious to see.

 "Alright you two," Mordo spoke, clearing his throat as he pinched the bamboo from Emilia's hand, pausing her attempts in smacking Stephen once more, "Shall we begin?"

⋆⋆⋆

 Emilia had come far from her once sloppy punches and pathetic kicks; Mordo had broken a sweat trying to keep up with her fast-paced movements, dodging and weaving every few moments as another limb came close to colliding with his face.

 Their spars were simply hand-to-hand fights; no mystic arts in sight. Though if Mordo was feeling particularly cruel, he'd swipe at Emilia's feet with a rope of golden sparks. He tried his best to make each fight far more challenging than the last, willing Emilia to use her agile form against him.

 But most of all, he knew that Emilia hated failure. Any time her sessions with the Ancient One bore no accomplishments, she'd grow angry, frustrated with herself. And thus, Mordo pushed the woman to her absolute limits in a fight, he wanted her to use her abilities to protect herself and to gain the upper hand, just as the other students would.

 But she always refused. She always submitted and yielded; she'd rather fail and suffer the blow to her confidence than hurt another person.

 It was clear to see that within the recent months Emilia had grown more confident in her powers. She had advanced far more than usual; that, of course, didn't mean that she wasn't utterly terrified of herself still, no that fear was still there and ready to clutch at her throat within a moment's notice.

 Their fight was full of intricate moves, as Emilia jabbed, Mordo would step back with the grace of a dancer. When Mordo kicked, Emilia dropped and rolled, it was all as though it had been rehearsed, they knew one another well, they knew each other's fighting style, their strengths and weaknesses and played to them.