(Untitled)

[redefinevictory]

Kait is still not used to this place. Not really. It still stinks of magic, and appears at odd times and in different doors, and then there is that WindowBut if it keeps on appearing after her morning bouts with the Guards, she won't complain. It gives her time to clean her sword before her next class, which is always a bonus. Particularly today,

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[lady_of_athens]

There's a woman watching Kait from a few yards away, dressed in a white dress, waves of black hair brushed back from her pointed face.

(she smells of the aegean and olive trees, books and parchment and her home)

"Your sword seems well-loved."

[redefinevictory]

She finishes the careful stroke of the whetstone before glancing up. This stranger smells interesting, but olive trees and parchment remind her of home.

"It is, parata," Kait says with a smile. "It's a good sword." Which is perfectly correct, but spoken by someone who loves it and cares for it and has had the misfortuane of having to find it first.

[lady_of_athens]

Athena laughs, low and husky. The mention of swords always bring up thoughts of Hephaestos -- and sometimes a little regret about her actions towards him.

"A good sword is an extension of the arm of the owner," she says, with a small smile.

[redefinevictory]

"So my teacher tells me." Repeatedly. "You know of swords?" She asks then, eyes bright as they move over Athena, looking at wrists and shoulders in particular.

[mogget_cat]

"Know how to use that thing, do you?" asks the bone-pale man dressed all in white who is flopping comfortably on a nearby couch. His green catseyes are as bright as his grin.

[redefinevictory]

Deliberately, Kait finishes the stroke before looking up - sword sharpening is not something to be rushed or done in fits and starts. Not without the possibility of ruining the symmetry of the blade.

"Of course I do," she says, politely, trying to keep the twitching of her nose nonexistence. The man smells of cat, and something...something else, she can't quite make out at the distance.

[mogget_cat]

Up close, it'd be very distinctive: Nerve-jangling, acrid wrongness scent of chaotic magic, catching in the back of one's throat.

With a veneer of the benevolent Charter Magic Sameth uses so well.

"There are many, one finds, who know little more than how to wear one, because wearing one projects the image of knowing how to use one," he smiles. "I just wanted to make sure."

[redefinevictory]

"True enough," she grants, but when she puts the sword down, she deliberately rolls down her blouse and lifts up her hand - a long hand, but one with sword-callouses, and a thick wrist that speaks of years of practice. "I had the choice of either relying on guards, or learning how to use it properly. I chose the latter."

The more she concentrates, the more she can pick up - the warm spice of Sam's magic but underneath that, oh so faint, something far harsher and metallic. Added to that, the man's sheer pallor and those bright, bright green eyes, and Kait is not entirely sure if 'man' is the correct term at all.

"Do you know, as well, or only observed?" Coming from a culture of diplomacy, the question carries no implied insult.