[closed] don't call him dr. L

[torpour]

Who: Nehan and his students.
What: It's about time to start being a teacher, which means meeting up with them one by one and conducting their first lessons-- sparring for some, medic training for others. May not be completely nice and productive, due to blood type shenanigans. Thanks, December.
When: Early to mid-December.
Where: Nehan's house for medical studies, and some fields away from people for combat training.

Content Warnings: Physical violence, little bit of beasthood, potential potty mouths, potential squicky conversations, Nehan's personal issues with his disabilities. More TBA when they come up.

[[ starters in the comments below. if you'd like to get in on this but we haven't plotted it out, feel free to shoot me a pp at wildtrapinch and we can talk! ]]

Comments

[torpour]

Well? [nehan's ears flick forward.] Show me your magic.

Don't forget, this is for you to be able to use fire and ice together, and as far as I'm concerned, using that thing that the gods give you will simply cripple you. You're already too reliant on it as it is.

True power has to come from yourself.

[searingwing]

[He has to remind himself that something is pushing on him subtly from within through his blood. That it might be pushing on others too. He takes a slow breath in then reaches down into his blood. The flames are there waiting but unable to be called for now.

But then, Kaeya had done it without his vision in that hell hole of a tower. He turns the burn in his blood the way it seems to want to go. The cold swirls through him and around him, moving like a storm. Glittering crystals of ice catch the light. Without Pyro it moves smoothly, under his clear command. Pure and strong. But not as strong as his fire. Nothing could ever match that within him.]

[torpour]

[is it because he has no vision that he can use ice properly now? that the vision was holding him back? nehan has to push him even further.]

Fire, Diluc. [another sharp bark, nehan's tail wagging in irritation and impatience. then he takes a deep breath, and tries to figure out how to be a teacher, rather than an intense trainer.]

Focus, and use your fire. How did you feel, while using it with your vision? Use that-- don't think about the lack of it, but the freedom of movement you now have.

[searingwing]

[He closes his eyes and sits down, hand against the ground. He breathes in and forces all outside influences away.

In the tower he felt the power surge then released with the Vision appearing in the flames. He moves past those memories to Mondstadt and daily battles. He lifts his hand from the ground and taps the burning in his blood.

The ice vanishes and the world turns as warm as a summer day. Flames pour forth and wrap around him as if he were a campfire. He doesn’t think. There is the flames and there is him. He brings his arms up towards his chest and the pure blazing hot flames shape themselves into the familiar bird of fire, waiting to be unleashed. He tips back and sends it streaking upwards into the sky over head.

The flames like the ice is solid and pure. The blaze of it however is vastly stronger, moving around and through him as the very air he breathes.]

[torpour]

[this is not what nehan explicitly instructed, but he's not a complete tyrant. he simply stays silent as diluc clearly works through what the erune's just said, and how to work magic that's his own. or meant to be his own, because he shouldn't be at the behest of cruel gods, like that barbatos.

and it seems like diluc's meditations work.]

Good. I want you to remember that feeling.

[without his cane and adrenaline running through his body, nehan has to drag his leg. he staggers to diluc, and looks down at him.] Stand up and show me properly what you've accomplished.

[searingwing]

[He has taught his students that magic obeys the wielder. Their perceptions shape the way the power flows but it is theirs. It belongs to their soul.

Until now he hasn’t fully grasped how that could change even his perceptions. Diluc climbs to his feet and the flames shift and move, rippling over him as he comes fully to his feet.

He doesn’t think of the rules he knows. Both elemental magics are his and come from the same source. Why should they oppose one another? He doesn’t think about how they shouldn’t.

That is meant for the past. Glittering shards of ice fall from his fingers and this time, the magic moves through him like an electric current. One way it flows out turns to heat. The other to bitter cold h it all of his magic is a burning power that sears no matter what way it cuts.

He is unharmed by it when perceived in this new mindset.]

[torpour]

Good. [another tidbit of praise, but when it comes from nehan, it's a heaping.]

Hold onto that feeling, because I will now teach you how to move. You attempted to copy my stance earlier, and you'll learn how to follow-up, and work with your own movements depending on your magic.

You're too tall for my clan, but we'll make it work.

[searingwing]

[Diluc nods. Slowly he falls into the stance he copied, looking to Nehan to correct what he got wrong. He's a fast learner and vicious once he finds his footing. But right now he's quiet, calm, and oddly serene.

It has everything to do with banishing the past to the darkest corners of his mind and focusing on now. It's the Diluc he shows to Mondstadt on a day to day basis. Like a sword waiting to be directed in combat.]

Understood.

[torpour]

Relax. [nehan pushes a finger into diluc's ribs.] Breathe deep, flex your body, hold yourself loosely.

You know what happens when fire and ice come together, yes? Air and water-- and that's what you must be. [it's not the way a karm assassin would learn, but nehan has to adjust their teachings to use analogies a man from another world can learn.

he's doing it again, using their techniques in ways that would be frowned upon. but diluc is an honorable man who only wants to protect people... nehan imagines he is, for the first time in his life, upholding the clan's tenets of steeping himself in darkness to make sure that the common folk can live their lives peacefully.]

Flowing and able to adapt, no matter what comes your way.

[searingwing]

[Flowing and adapting. Like the wind.

There is a time when he is like that. When he has two knives in his hands and walks in darkness. Sometimes it feels like the most honest version of himself these days. He works alone more often than not. He has to adapt to changing circumstances or die. There is no other option.

He breathes deep and the rigidity leaves him. He is a creature of the night, the lone owl watching for fools and prey. It’s like a final mask being shed even if he can almost feels the weight of the cloak and mask he wears in those late hours. He is what he must be. But that’s never been hard for him.

His father made an adaptable weapon by directing the vast passion of a young man who saw it his mission in life to protect others. All it takes is the right words and thoughts to turn the will of the blade towards a goal.]

[torpour]

Now, the stance... Our art relies on the fighter being able to anticipate a blow coming, and dodging it to create their own opening for a counterattack.

Surely you've seen me perform this over and over, shoddy as my technique is.

Footwork is key. Agility is key. Speed is key. [so many things are key, in the ways nehan's clan operate-- all of them have to be perfect in what they do, which highlights nehan's weakness all the more. he was never the best at anything, after all.] Judgement is also key-- which way you will dodge, and how you will repay that blow with one of your own. Taking a hit is... fine, I suppose, but the enemy will truly feel it if they're caught off guard, and that's what dodging will offer you.

[then he assumes his stance one more time, and leans back and shuffles his feet from side to side, showing how easy it is to move with arms free and not clenched so tightly to the body.]

[searingwing]

[Diluc studies his footwork carefully. He will need to practice this, but the basics are still in line with what he is good at. With a claymore he is a bulwark. With knives, he has to dance and move with the flow of a fight.

Very like the wind. He moves shuffles then, moving slowly but smoothly. Just to show he could see what Nehan was getting at. He repeats it but faster. Unlike his fist work, there is clear habits and experience here.] Be as wind and lighting, then? I see.

[torpour]

Yes.

Loose with your arms and legs. Wait for an opening, and then punish. You may even use your legs. [nehan doesn't-- for obvious reasons.]

Now, you will try it. I throw a blow, and you dodge and counter-- understand?

[searingwing]

[He doesn’t know what it says about him that once he thought of his night time fighting style and what it was for that it is easy to comply to those instructions.

He is no knight or even knight trained in this moment. He is part of an intelligence network spanding the whole of Teyvat and kills in the shadows where there is no room for errors. Even being cut could risk discovery. He nods once, waiting like an owl for the slightest movement in the proverbial grass.]

[torpour]

[nehan takes a deep breath, and releases it through his mouth. towards the tail end of that exhalation, he strikes out, as quick as a serpent, a punch aimed straight for diluc's chest. he doesn't even think about it, he simply does it, his entire body adjusting to put as much force into it as he can.

which is not a lot, really, even magically-imbued blows. nehan knows he's not a powerful man.]

[searingwing]

[Quick as lightning, Diluc is in motion. He moves out of the way of the blow, and forward. His strike is aimed to knock the wind out of his opponent.

And he doesn’t stick around for the result once he makes his blow, moving back and ready to dodge again. It’s the way he would behave with knives and daggers in hand. Once can’t afford to soak hits when you have to take your opponent down fast and quiet.]

[torpour]

[nehan's instinct is to dodge diluc's counterattack. but he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, planting both feet firmly onto the ground and hoping that the traction on these new shoes of his hold up. his stance is entirely defensive, and he takes diluc's blow with just a huff.

then he shakes himself off. perhaps he takes a little too long on that, but he still shakes himself from head to toe.]

Not bad. You clearly have experience... and yet you went on to hamstring yourself with your previous form that is broken and easily countered. Why?

Is it the Vision?

[searingwing]

Clarify, please. [He stays in stance but his bright red eyes fix on Nehan’s face. He’s in the moment and not thinking of anything past or before it.

He has to mean how he handles a claymore. But this isn’t simple. When he learned knives and the darkness, he was not in a good place. Day light hours require daylight thinking.]

[torpour]

You're picking up my lessons at a pace I never expected-- clearly you have prior experience in fighting this way. [and he's actually quite strong-- but nehan will not tell him that. there's no reason to give him that praise, this early on.]

So, why did you dumb yourself down? You were a stumbling baby deer before I forced you to leave behind the Vision, and the only reason I can think of is that you became too reliant on that thing for power.

[searingwing]

That’s not the reason. [The words come out before he even thinks about a reply. He pauses and rubs at his face. The dream and this place have been wearing on him little by little.

But Nehan is an odd friend and teacher.] It’s me.

[He could elaborate. But he is clearly visibly struggling with what to say. So he just says it.] I keep myself chained for a reason. If you want me to let them all go, I will.

But fighting like this…killing while fighting like this. Isn’t new to me at all.

[torpour]

I want to kick you. But that wouldn't hammer home the point I want to make. [but he still should, on principle. he just wont.]

You're holding yourself back, and that's unacceptable. And the fact that you kept it from me was unacceptable, as well.

[meaning, he will have to punish diluc for that in some way later. then he crosses his arms, walking around the human with his lopsided, crutchless gait, and not stopping. he wants diluc to feel scrutinized, and found lacking.]

What holds you back? Fear? Do you think that strength is in appropriate? [the former is easier to deal with, he just has to beat the man black and blue again... but the latter? that's trickier, that's morality talking.

and, unfortunately, nehan has a feeling it's the latter with what he knows of diluc's personality. it's a bad personality.]

[searingwing]

[Like this he is aware a dangerous fighter is circling. Watching. He says nothing until silence falls.] No.

My strength is necessary when it is necessary. I apologize for the offense and holding back.

[There is something odd about his expression. The air about him is somehow sharper, and he holds utterly still without much effort. All that he is when night falls are things he learned himself. Maybe one thing he learned best is he is a very effective weapon. Better than his father ever dreamed of.]

[torpour]

That's not enough. [his tail is wagging, but in the irritation that nehan is tamping down, so he doesn't show it on his face, or in his actions.]

Tell me what's holding you back, instead of dancing around it.

"No" is not an answer.

[searingwing]

[He thought he had answered. Diluc turns over what he had said and finds it sufficient. But it seems it isn’t.

And he looks at his hands. Is it fear? The thought of just going through, letting go and fighting with everything. Even the darker things. Makes him see his will being crushed in icy jaws and Yuri yelling at him to stop. Or he hears the rain.

He closes his eyes. As he realizes what it is. What it really is.] …It’s guilt.

[He says very slowly. It feels like he is pulling a chain out of the depths.] Every time I’ve truly let go. Terrible things happen.

[Yuri. Kaeya. The heap of lives from three years of searching for the truth. Sodder. Vision or no vision. That’s the real issue here. Why he imposes so many chains on himself in a fight.]

[torpour]

A heap of bodies at your feet, either by your own hand, or because of what you did-- or did not do.

[nehan, of course, understands. then he raises a single, thin finger, black nail gleaming dully in the natural light.]

Guilt can become fear, if you mire yourself in it. Becoming scared of your own power is an all-too real possibility for stronger warriors, and that makes them troublesome to deal with. I refuse to allow that to happen to you.

If you call yourself a protector, you cant afford to use only half your power.