To Train A Beast (Slash III)

"I miss the nice, tall lady." Amur said in exasperation, leaning her head against Zayn's back and wallowing in pain.

"Go figure," Chase said, throwing a knife at one of the dummies in front of him; reflected in his black eyes is the knife hitting the middle of his target, "we've been at it for forever--didn't that giant say they'll be back?"

"Yeah, word for word," Zayn said, gently poking at the straw dummy, it's body with an x in the middle of it exploding on impact, "it's kind of hot outside and the instructor is a little...mean."

Before Jeremiah and Clarke could watch the recruits warm up, someone—an older man wearing his black knight armor—whispered something in Jeremiah's ear, making Jeremiah's ears perk up and him to wave the man off, uttering a few words and quickly letting the recruits know that he needed to step out for a moment, and that he won't be back for long, and that-.

"That old oaf isn't really watching us until that giant comes back, right?" Amur scrunches her nose at the older man in front of the crowd, pointing a finger at a group of recruitments and proceeding to demean them. "Like I didn't expect someone like that to be apart of Fawne. Not really a fan. Zero points."

"I'd quit yapping, if I were you." The girl from before—the one with black hair and green eyes—holds a metal, worn out scythe, her face monotone and unamused. "He'll definitely hear you and come over here-."

"You seem to like minding our business," Amur said, waving her small paint brush in the girls face, "what's your problem?"

"My problem is that the recruitments here stink," the girl said, rolling her eyes, "and I'd like to have an easy win on my belt to impress the captain, and you seem easy, so."

"Easy?!" Amur screeches, raising a small fist in the air to swing it, but Zayn holds Amur's hand back with a stale smile, "I'll show you what easy looks like you-!"

"What's going on here?" The older man—much shorter than Zayn with brown hair and passive, demeaning brown eyes gazes down at the trio, his face unimpressed. "You all are annoyingly loud. You're suppose to be training, not running your mouths."

"To be fair, sir." Chase said, clearing his throat, until he quickly throws a accusing finger at the tall girl with black hair, "she started it-."

"Are you five-?!" The girl screeches, her green eyes widened with fury, "I'll beat your ass!"

"Save it for the mock battles," the man said, eyeing each of them like scum, "although, I don't see anything promising between any of you-but you-."

The man points to one of them—Zayn—and he eyes her, angrily looking her up and down.

"I hear some things about you—of course, right now it's top secret information since I am a squadron leader," the man smirks, pointing a finger to himself, "it upsets me—why have you worn a helmet— armor that isn't training armor—when you are not a knight yet? Do you mock us? Do you think being a knight is easy?"

"Uh no," Zayn said, pointing to herself, "I only wear this because-."

"Training armor is one thing but you—do you think apparently being strong alone is reason enough to qualify as a Fawne knight?" The elder man said, jamming a finger in Zayn's platted chest, "how dare you—a mere woman—!"

"Again, sir—yeah, uh-don't mean to offend," Zayn said, pointing to herself, "but like, again I just wear this helmet and everything because-."

"If you think for one moment I'll let this disgusting offense go, you better pray to the Gods," the man said, a large frown on his face, "you know what—be ready to face one of the worst opponents you will yet—I'll make an example out of you!"

Zayn, confused and very much offended, shrugs, not knowing what to say in the circumstances.

"Sir," Zayn said, clearing her throat, "I-I-I'm just a girl-."

The man waves her off, barely entertaining her further, until another man—the one from before, the blonde one with freckles, scurries to the older man to touch his shoulder and whisper something in his ear—before the small boy gives Zayn a passive, curious look, and then he turns away, not once looking back as he fades into the distance,

"Since Captain may be longer than anticipated," the man said, smirking at the young crowd of recruitments, "how about we start some spars. Who'd like to go first?"

"I'll go first," the girl with black hair raises her hand, her pale face even more pale under the sun, "and I request to take on pique squeak, since she had a dumb mouth on her."

Amur, surprised, points to herself—to which the girl nods, not even stuttering as Amur's face morphs to one of anger, and she angrily points a finger to the girl, her big indigo eyes ablaze with determination.

"I accept, miss ghost," Amur said, smirking up at the tall girl.

"It's Ramon," the girl said, rolling her eyes, "if you want to even be on my level, get my name right, small fry."

"Then its settled," the man said, smirking down at the two girls, "everyone, follow me to the sparring grounds."

…

"Holy gods," Chase said, eyeing the world around him, "this is huge dude."

"You're telling me," Amur said, "this is kind of crazy—Fawne is loaded."

Zayn nods in agreeance, eyeing the large training colosseum around her. There rows of benches above—just for speciation and watching below, where the recruits stand—in a large, oval placement in the middle of the room. There's stands of swords and spears and other weapons on the wall to the far right, and to the far left stands a large long path to the entrance, from where they came from.

Zayn eyes the large room around her, taking notice to the heavy foots filled with armor and fear that echo heavier in her ears than ever before.

"Are you sure you're ready to go first, Amur?" Zayn said, looking down at her friend, "I mean you're going to kill it, but I-."

"Meh! It'll be fine," Amur said, "not many people know my magic anyway, so like I should be 'ight. Sorry for Ramon in advance, though."

"I'm kicking your ass, so no need," Ramon said, tapping Amur's shoulder, who sticks her tongue at Ramon, "Not interested in apologizes not needed, thanks."

Amir scoffs, rolling her eyes at Ramon's words.

"Well everyone, take a seat—except for the two ladies," the elder man said, eyeing both woman like bugs, "please stand on the middle of the circle."

Zayn looks at Amur with worry, who grins and nudges Zayn's shoulder. Chase rolls his eyes and smacks Amur's back, whispering words of good luck before he places a hand on Zayn's back and leads her to the benches with the other recruitments.

"Ladies, get your places ready." The man said. Ramon nods, her face serious as she swings her scythe and glares at Amur, who doesn't look phased or worried, but only concentrated.

The man swiftly walks over to a front row seat and sits, his legs crossed and arms raised, ready to open the grounds for the two woman.

"Are you both ready?" He asked. Ramon nods; Amur smiles, and the man scoffs, waving his raised hand.

Zayn looks to Chase, who nudges her, a dopey smile on his face.

"Don't worry," Chase said, to which causes Zayn to worry even more.

"Begin!" The man said, swinging his arm down. Ramon nods, lunging forward.