Sir Serené: Practice

Sir Serené watched the fighting with delightful pleasure. Feeling urged on, he took out his twin daggers and approached a dummy.

Rolling behind it he sliced it's back and twirled in a hypnotic rythmn towards it's front in a swirl of blades. He stabbed his blade in the chest and pushing himself up, raised his legs and propelled himself of, backflipping in the air to land shakily on his feet.

He approached the dummy and took the dagger, sheafing them in his belt to turn away. Shame no-one had seen it. He loved lyrics and poems but that didn't mean he couldn't fight, he just prefered not to, rather than kill and cause pain, solve problems diplomatically. That was why the King had allowed him to come, because although he wasn't the best fighter and preferred stealth and guile, he was a good tactician and did well with politics.

Slightly out of breath, the knight lay on the grass and looked up at the pale blue sky and cottonbud clouds. He saw Isabelle walk by, her beautiful hair glowing in the light.

"Hi," he called after her, she turned to look at him and smiled prettily.

The End

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