Despite its illegality, Corym Bloom was using his time off to learn to fight.

Holn was a city that held pride in its soldiers. At least, it’s human soldiers. It was rare for the more elite Holnites to look at his lavender skin and color-changing hair with anything better than a mild curiosity. His kind - both the drow and changeling halves - were all but illegal in the 'Great City'. The wonderful, glorious, all-too-disgusting Regis had decreed it so, long before he and his mother had even stepped foot in Holn.

If anything, Corym was lucky - he was gracefully allowed to survive.

That day was particularly difficult - the sun was high in the sky, and Corym was repeating stances and moves, over and over, sweat dripping down his brow. His hangover didn’t help how he was feeling. It was just a few days before his exam to move up a rank, and he needed to get it right. 

Just in case he had to run again.

Corym swung his sword in the university's empty arena. It was easier every time. Sword fighting was like dancing to him - every part of himself had to balance, to be strong. It was a performance, a show, something he loved…

Surely?

Only, this was a dance with a pointy end. 

He arrived at the end of the stances, knowing full well the last stance was a little awkward. He missed a step and dropped his sword, wincing as it fell to the floor. 

He sighed, wiped his brow and picked it up. 

Although its name was Dawnedge, Corym liked to call his rapier 'Ray'. The charcoal gray blade was slightly curved, and had the delicate outline of a five-petaled flower carved out near the tip. The silver cross guard was a series of interlocking arches and tiny silver spheres. The grip was covered in a worn black leather, and the pommel was an elegant hook-like curve made of silver strands. If anything, it resembled something he might have read about in the literature he delved into for his classes, or would have drawn onto the portrait of a hero.

It may have been an heirloom from his father, but it was elegant and modern nonetheless. 

Corym slid Dawnedge into its scabbard and stepped back into his first stance. 

It was all just a dangerous dance with a partner hellbent on taking your life. 

And so he danced in circles with the invisible stranger before him, performing the story of a perfectly-choreographed duel. 

*~*~*~*