[ action derails thought. it doesn't wipe it away in its entirety, but the workings change; instead of brittle memories, there's calculation and perhaps in this flow of things it is easier not to think all that damn much because heine doesn't have to. his sinews know this with intimate clarity, and even though this is not a fight at all, nothing that even reaches close to what he has been through, it is welcome.
attention has to be sharper now, because he is looking for mistakes. he isn't just barreling through moving bodies that are already good as dead. the challenge is the restraint of it all.
his posture is kept loose even if his spine coils taut into reaction, and he takes stock of the entire flow of rin's motions. there's too much force. it's swing is too wide. footing itself he could break by an easy step and that is counted in the moments it takes for rin to aim the punch.
heine moves, fluid and wolfish, hand darting out just as he pivots away from the hit and long fingers coil around rin's wrist; the grip is sure and firm as it catches the momentum of motion and holds the arm extended. ] Hmph.
[ it wasn't the kid's first time trying to punch something, that much was clear. but it was...insufficient. it may have been a harsh evaluation, and heine finds himself weighing his words before they fall in pragmatic monotone. ] You're overextending.
Your stance is - [ he moves in emphasis, pulls on the wrist and taps against rin's front-placed foot, just to make sure he stumbles. ] - leaning too far into it. Makes you unbalanced.
It's not about how hard you punch. [ a huff, and his grip loosens, the pads of his fingers falling away from the heartbeat under rin's skin. ] And even if I hadn't asked you to hit me, I could have guessed your move from a mile out.
[ pausing, and he cannot help the frown that curls against his mouth. this was like trying to explain breathing to someone and he wasn't sure just how capable he was of it. his words fell from vague understanding of his own actions, and the acknowledgement that every single thing he did came from one place: ] - Ah. Your spine is the spring, and every movement comes from that. [ core would have been more apt, but potato-potato. ]
no subject
attention has to be sharper now, because he is looking for mistakes. he isn't just barreling through moving bodies that are already good as dead. the challenge is the restraint of it all.
his posture is kept loose even if his spine coils taut into reaction, and he takes stock of the entire flow of rin's motions. there's too much force. it's swing is too wide. footing itself he could break by an easy step and that is counted in the moments it takes for rin to aim the punch.
heine moves, fluid and wolfish, hand darting out just as he pivots away from the hit and long fingers coil around rin's wrist; the grip is sure and firm as it catches the momentum of motion and holds the arm extended. ] Hmph.
[ it wasn't the kid's first time trying to punch something, that much was clear. but it was...insufficient. it may have been a harsh evaluation, and heine finds himself weighing his words before they fall in pragmatic monotone. ] You're overextending.
Your stance is - [ he moves in emphasis, pulls on the wrist and taps against rin's front-placed foot, just to make sure he stumbles. ] - leaning too far into it. Makes you unbalanced.
It's not about how hard you punch. [ a huff, and his grip loosens, the pads of his fingers falling away from the heartbeat under rin's skin. ] And even if I hadn't asked you to hit me, I could have guessed your move from a mile out.
[ pausing, and he cannot help the frown that curls against his mouth. this was like trying to explain breathing to someone and he wasn't sure just how capable he was of it. his words fell from vague understanding of his own actions, and the acknowledgement that every single thing he did came from one place: ] - Ah. Your spine is the spring, and every movement comes from that. [ core would have been more apt, but potato-potato. ]