Mission: Dauntless Shield, Melody Miro

Rather impressively, the blonde man's eyes did not wander, despite the many opportunities to do so, bowing before Hoenn's reigning champion in greeting.

A man was not to judge a woman in a state of disarray; too many circumstances could be at play... And he knew, from speaking with Navy, that she was very busy nowadays.

"Hello again, Melody." He greeted politely, smiling. "I apologize for turning up at your doorstep without much of a warning."

And for taking up her free time.

"It ocurred to me that it had been much too long since I had last checked in on my students." He said simply.

kyle lopez had died in that interim, and now Melody had stepped into his shoes. She could've well faced the same fate any day now.

"I was hoping you would indulge me in training together."

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Mission: Dauntless Shield, Melody Miro

Politely, he did not stare as she put on a second layer of clothes, chuckling as he responded.

"No, I really should've called at least." If only so she could've the time she needed to get changed.

As she did that, two familiar pokemon appeared from within the home's large doorway.

He bowed in response to Cobalion, smiling politely at the sword of justice, whilst remaining still as the Meloetta did her inspection.

A large abode for a large number of free roaming pokemon, perhaps.

He briefly recalled seeing something like the Meloetta at a museum, once, but the memory of the Triad attack that came shortly after remained much stronger.

"I was hoping to check up on your swordsmanship, since it's been some time." He said politely.

He had offered guidance and a measure of translation work, but ultimately, training under Cobalion and Terrakion's guidance was something that Melody, and Kyle, once upon a time, were to do in their own time.

He was just to make sure they were internalizing the right lessons.

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SOFTNESS, FLUIDITY, STILLNESS

Mission: Dauntless Shield, Melody Miro

He bit his tongue, resisting the urge to correct to swordsmanship.

He watched the brief interplay of reactions, from Cobalion's gaze to Melody's reluctant compliance, to her somewhat awkward grip on the weapon.

Something was... odd, but he didn't know Melody enough to be certain of what. Though it seemed as though she had attained some form of enlightenment during their last training outing, it had been a considerable time ago.

"Wonderful. Thank you— For indulging this selfish request of mine." He said, smiling as he stepping aside and out of her way before beginning to walk towards the beach.

"So... How are you feeling?" He asked simply as they walked over sand. "Have you been keeping up with your routine?"

A big part of what he had directly taught her had been body conditioning— and though she looked fantastic, that hardly told him anything; she always had. Her body language felt a tad more sluggish than he recalled, but that could've been anything, from a stiffness to exhaustion.

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TL;DR:

SOFTNESS, FLUIDITY, STILLNESS

Mission: Dauntless Shield, Melody Miro

"Very well."

That wasn't promising.

He was beginning to understand what Navy had meant when he spoke of Melody's new duties.

Nonetheless, it wasn't his place to judge how she was taking care of herself— not yet anyway. He would need to prove she was doing a poor job first, then hopefully be able to convince her he could help.

So, first things first...

He raised his own sword, observing her approach with some curiosity. She was being rather cautious— not a bad thing by any means, though it did seem at odds with the flashy, spirited sword dance he knew her for.

He decided to test this new found cautiousness, suddenly stepping forth whilst swinging down the flat of his blade to her head.

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TL;DR:

SOFTNESS, FLUIDITY, STILLNESS

Mission: Dauntless Shield, Melody Miro

It is all wrong from start to finish. Her form stiff, her defense flaccid, her movements sloppy, and her strike weak.

He knows better than to underestimate someone, specially Melody, but his eyes did not deceive him in matter of the sword.

The signs of exhaustion were there, but so was the tell tale signs of a blade rusted from disuse.

The contrast in their movements is as clear as day and night— an expert parry leading into a blade against the neck.

Gwyar holds it still, naturally, waiting for the champion to accept the conclusion of the short bout before sheathing his own blade, looking at her worrisomely.

"... The Melody Miro I know is not so feeble."

He did not speak of her sword.

Time was at a premium these days. If she could not afford to train her blade, it could not helped.

Her body, however, was another matter.

"Melody. Are you well?"

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