The night held them in a loving embraced. They were the darkness and all the life it held. Feared and forgotten warriors of old. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in the grey.
BTS X READER | based/ inspired of Ryan Kirks Nightblade trilogy. You DON'T...
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The wooden block slammed down with a bang locking the door shut. Despite the cold, (y/n) was sweating. She had practically ran from Akira and Jungkook. If they had wanted to discuss things further, she had no plans of doing so.
They would have to wait until she felt her mind could think clearly. There were too many new worries adding to the preexisting ones. Too much was happening, and she needed it to slow down. There was no proper way to stop time; if she could not sleep, she would train until the hours bled away. It was something she could do without thought.
She could lose her mind in her movement and her sword. Her body could take over, and then she could be at peace, if only for an hour or so.
Her head fell back, hitting the wood. The bump left a light throbbing; it was nice in a weird way that made no sense. It was grounding, like feeling her feet firmly on the ground or taking a deep breath. It felt like, at last, she was alone; no nightblades were hiding in her bed for lords making plans, and there were no soldiers or general. Just herself a blade and ten straw models to practice.
They stood evenly in a circle, the wooden fences hiding her from prying eyes. The ceiling was non-existent, puddles dotted about and splashed as she stepped further into the space. (y/n) threw her fur robe to the side, and she took stances. The sword on her hip was drawn out and held in front of her face in a perfect line. She could see the gravel and the clouds distorting in the reflection.
She centred herself, drawing her sense into her body before pushing it out over the training quarter. Perhaps if she had been a little more awake, she would have noticed the void encroaching on the edge of her sense. However, that was not the case; she had missed the figure sitting in the shadowed corner, watching her every move with curiosity. A bead of sweat was on his brow from his sessions only a few minutes before (y/n) burst through the door.
It felt wrong to watch, but Taehyung couldn't look away, nor could give himself away, not quite yet. He had to wait, see what the two cycles did, and know whether he did the right thing in the first place to let her go. Had the island been all it was promised, and did she regret leaving him in the middle of the woods sobbing?
(Y/n) moved, it was controlled and much the same technique he held, one that blended Shiros' and the monastery's teaching. It was circular and linear, the contrasts a beautiful art in themselves. There was a new edge to how she went from slice to slice; it was far more refined than she had ever been training alongside him.
As he surveyed, Taehyung felt an itch to join in, to duel like they used to. To look back and bask in the nostalgia of days spent upon the hill training until sunset. But Taehyung was wise not to interrupt at that moment; however gracefully she looked, he could tell it was not the time. He just had to wait. It was a private moment of raw emotion where he felt he was breaking the law to witness.
It was the way she would throw her body into every cut; if (y/n) had been fighting against a real opponent, they would have already used the momentum against herself. But alas, she was not; the consequences of fighting against an inanimate object were few, and the girl used this to her advantage. It was more about how far she could drive her blade into the staw than the accuracy. Not that she was sloppy. He was holding her to a nightblade standard, after all. It was nothing a regular person's eye could pick up on.
