Fanwork## 419 words
I'm happy others like Meinmaru were inspired because I wasn't. And thanks Rihaku for those rolls !
what follows is also bullshit...not the awesome kind though I fear.
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In a warrior, the boundaries between a man and the tools of his craft tended to blur past a certain threshold. With use any armor could become a second skin, seemingly weighting no more and no less than what it covered. Weapons could become true extensions of one's hands. With talent and practice, reaching such mastery was possible to many, indeed, as a Mortal he had attained such heights. His swordsmanship was such that plunging into a lunge, point seeking a throat, came as easily and naturally as breathing to him. There was nothing but the gesture, no thought before nor after, only the cuttings motions following each other in a seamless rhythm.
This closeness , paradoxically, did not foster any kind of relationship between weapon and wielder, for without distance, as they came to blend into each other, becoming as one, no link could be forged, no alliance struck. The strange mathematics of this type of mastery led to one and one coming together, not to give two but to blend into one anew.
Since the Tournament, he had learned as much.
From the splintering of Ambition's intent and his own he had gained a new awareness. Seized more of the Odyssial that was than he ever had before. Living in recollections the life of the man he had been left little room for a clear view of his past self. Knowing Ambition to be his had meant remaining blind and deaf to it. To truly see and hear, distance had been needed.
Where he had moved alone before, he danced now. Ambition and him twirled in the bowels of the ship, flowing from stance to stance upon its creaking woods. The shadows they cast under the torchlight for sole witness, they moved together at an increasingly faster pace. Soon, it was as if a dozen, then an hundred of them danced in harmony under some unknown choreography. A familiar sight for whoever had seen the speed Ulyssian could attain, only this time, all the afterimages he left in his trails did not fade. Indeed a careful watcher would have remarked that one of the "dancing couple" remained beside the original partners, and diverged from all the others. Arcing left when they twirled right, cutting low when they struck high, they behaved in a strangely autonomous manner: As the original struck, committing to their blow against a phantom adversary in such a way that they left themselves open, their mirror-images slid seamlessly behind them to guard their undefended back.
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Semi-sentient Ambition who animate a shadow-clone style Ulyssian in battle, yeah ?
