(Untitled)

[silentson]

Down by the beach, you will believe a man can fly!

But only because he actually is, hovering a few inches above the sand, a look of intense concentration on his face. The fine control is a little rough, and, so long as he's stuck with this form, he might as well practice with it. Feel free to bug him.

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[not_de_la_vega]

Joaquin was getting used to being stuck here, enough so that he'd settled into an almost routine.

Wake up, practice, breakfast, practice, lunch, read, dinner, drink himself to sleep.

So, because he had just finished his breakfast, he was down near the lake as well, running through sword forms. Chances were that he'd seen the other man, but not exactly what it was he was doing.

[silentson]

Joseph floats over, interested in the sword and such. His father always used one, but, well, he had bad memories of dying on the point of one. "Good morning."

[not_de_la_vega]

Most of what Joaquin knew was swashbuckling, and a few real forms. Of course, it was effective swashbuckling, but swashbuckling nonetheless.

He nodded once to acknowledge the other, finishing with the movements he was working on before sheathing the sword once more, "Good morning."

[silentson]

"Not too bad there." He tries for a welcoming grin, but on this face? Well.