Its one thing to confront a fae in seclusion. Another to wind up subjugated to the church's whispered depravities; hidden away in the darkest, oldest parts of the institution. Out in the open, with witnesses, they seemed to turn into different beasts.
The zealot stood relaxed. Embracing the cross hammer. "Do not be fooled by these charlatans. God is judging you, even now."
"We are God's favored! The Church has grown blind to the truth! We bring you... rapture!" The fae spread his arms, as the same water color streaks traced through the air, billowing in the wind. He had wings out, much like Egil's stalker.
The crowd gasped. The summoner scratched his head, frustrated by the scene, as another broken set of individuals clasped on more shackles. They were at least the most visible choices. Some of the other members of the crowd started backing away.
Egil looked up to try and read the fae's expression, only for their eyes to lock. The sights and sounds around him were suddenly overpowered with whispering and flashes of memories regarding his ordeal.
"Oh! Its a fallen one." One voice whispered.
"Should I help him find his way back?" Another sounded from behind Egil. He didn't bother turning his head. Instead, the summoner looked back with the cold, unfeeling, stare.
Egil's mind flashed back to a memory of his trainings.
***
Daiyu, the teacher of the fast style, had dropped her guard, leaving Egil free to attack her anywhere. He hesitated, and she ended the encounter with an open palm strike that managed to take his hearing, displace his head, and cross his eyes.
He wasn't knocked from his feet, but the soreness around his neck would last for days after that. She expected him to keep training regardless. Once again, he hesitated. She went for the slap, he anticipated it, she then kneed him in the groin.
She dropped her guard again. Egil adopted a purely defensive stance, ready for any incoming blows. She merely tied up his front defenses, and plowed into his side while he was open.
The following day, battered and in pain, Egil could barely stay coordinated. Once again, she dropped her guard. He still remembered the sensation: fear. The injuries were adding up. Waiting for the attacks and blocking wasn't working. Running away defeated the point of practicing. The only thing really left was going in and attacking harder.
While his fist made its way to her sternum, she pivoted, bringing the knife edge of her hand to bear on his neck. He managed to block it. The moment he let up, her hand swung outwards again, threatening the heavy strikes. Egil went in again, attacking rather than blocking. This forced her to keep her guard in place.
"Wow! You're slow!" She commented. "Most students figure this out after the 2nd hit." That night, they had gone out to dinner. While overlooking the town docks, she pointed at two drunkards getting into a shoving match. "Those two." She pointed. "One of them could end it right now."
"I guess one of them could walk away."
"Or just start punching."
Egil raised an eyebrow in response to that. Daiyu simply pointed his attention back to the drunks. They continued getting in each other's faces until finally slugged the other, causing the victim to stagger.
"The attacker should just push his advantage." Daiyu narrated. "...but he didn't." The victim then swung back, landing a similar blow on the attacker. "Now they both have bruises because they're dumb."
"What is the lesson I'm supposed to glean from this?"
"If fighting is likely, don't wait. Be the first to attack, and then keep attacking."
