𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 — give the air a break

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 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 were, as usual, filled with students. Some were punching and kicking towards their opponent, others held up their hands in defence, and those more advanced twirled weapons of amber sparks and conjured glistening shields with intricate patterns.

 Mordo stood to the centre of the grounds, a bamboo stick held in one hand whilst his other rested upon his hip. He often surveyed practices and took such moments as an opportunity to teach; correcting stances, offering advice or perhaps shouting words of encouragement.

 No matter the student, and no matter their level, they each knew they were in safe hands when Karl Mordo was around; and many of said students purposely lingered on the cobblestone grounds awaiting fights between the Master, and Emilia.

 Emilia's abilities struck awe and curiosity within many of the students; each wanted to know more and to see more, thus, those who stuck around held hopes that one day Emilia would use her abilities to defend herself from Mordo's persistent attacks.

 It hadn't happened thus far; Emilia trusted her body far more than her powers and so punches and kicks were thrown towards the master, each just as strong as the last. She had been relentless in her training, pushing her body to limits she hadn't known to exist.

 Perhaps the relentless training was a way for Emilia to forget the power she held, but even so, it offered her weary mind solace, and it gave her a target she knew she could reach.

 With confidence, Emilia, followed by Stephen, stepped outside, silently closing the sliding door behind them.

 Stephen surveyed the scene before him, multitudes of fights and yells... Even laughter as various students landed on the ground in a heap. With a short look that seemingly portrayed hesitance, Stephen looked to Emilia, "And you fighting against Mordo? Isn't he a master?"

 Emilia, as ever, laughed his comment away and tapped at her biceps; ones that despite her short form, certainly held a large amount of muscle, "He is a master, but that doesn't mean I can't put him on the ground."

 "Now that, I'd love to see."

 "Then watch carefully," Emilia responded as she nudged his side and trailed towards the master who swiftly threw the stick of bamboo at Emilia.

 Without a moment of hesitance, Emilia's hand had shot upwards, plucking the stick from the air without issue, "You won't catch me off guard again."

 Mordo laughed, his hands falling to his waist to tighten the ropes of his robe. He could easily recall his first sparring session with the woman before him; how sloppy her punches had been, how she'd barely been able to lift a leg high enough in the air, and how the pole had struck the side of her face when he had thrown it.

 "That's the idea." Mordo commented as his gaze fell to Stephen, "Strange, you've come to join us?"

 "I'll just be watching... Thanks."

 This, of course, plied a snort from Emilia who twirled the stick in her hand before jolting the dulled end towards Stephen, catching his stomach, "Are you sure? I think you need a session... Or twelve."

 The pole struck him again, swiftly dodging his attempts in swiping it away and all that could fall from his lips was a childish huff. He relented, shaking hands falling back to his side once Emilia ceased her striking, "Fine."

 Mordo had stood silently as he watched the interaction unfold; Emilia trusted him, she trusted many masters and students within the Kamar-Taj, and Mordo truly believed that the friendship he'd formed with the woman was a rare one indeed... And yet the display before him was one to be in awe of.

 A former physicist who had to leave her life behind in the fear of hurting more people than she already had; one riddled with sadness and anxiety that kept her up at night, and stunted her growth by day.

 A surgeon whose ego and arrogance stole his life and career from him. A man in a place still unknown to him, surrounded by so many strangers, and a man who had lost the ability to use his hands to their fullest.

 Two people so different and yet so similar.

 It was odd, yet refreshing to Mordo to see the quirk of Stephen's lip whenever Emilia teased him, it was a wonder to see Emilia laugh as though her past was but a distant memory whenever she was around the former surgeon.

 Each of them, though they might not have noticed it as much as he, had changed one another; they were each other's comfort, it was obvious to see.

 "Alright you two," Mordo spoke, clearing his throat as he pinched the bamboo from Emilia's hand, pausing her attempts in smacking Stephen once more, "Shall we begin?"

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 Emilia had come far from her once sloppy punches and pathetic kicks; Mordo had broken a sweat trying to keep up with her fast-paced movements, dodging and weaving every few moments as another limb came close to colliding with his face.

 Their spars were simply hand-to-hand fights; no mystic arts in sight. Though if Mordo was feeling particularly cruel, he'd swipe at Emilia's feet with a rope of golden sparks. He tried his best to make each fight far more challenging than the last, willing Emilia to use her agile form against him.

 But most of all, he knew that Emilia hated failure. Any time her sessions with the Ancient One bore no accomplishments, she'd grow angry, frustrated with herself. And thus, Mordo pushed the woman to her absolute limits in a fight, he wanted her to use her abilities to protect herself and to gain the upper hand, just as the other students would.

 But she always refused. She always submitted and yielded; she'd rather fail and suffer the blow to her confidence than hurt another person.

 It was clear to see that within the recent months Emilia had grown more confident in her powers. She had advanced far more than usual; that, of course, didn't mean that she wasn't utterly terrified of herself still, no that fear was still there and ready to clutch at her throat within a moment's notice.

 Their fight was full of intricate moves, as Emilia jabbed, Mordo would step back with the grace of a dancer. When Mordo kicked, Emilia dropped and rolled, it was all as though it had been rehearsed, they knew one another well, they knew each other's fighting style, their strengths and weaknesses and played to them.

 Though when Mordo retreated with the help of the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr, Emilia had no choice but to stand and wait, watching as sparks of gold and amber filled her vision, leaving a trail behind her opponent as he hopped through the air around her.

 She wasn't oblivious to what he was doing; he was out of her range and no kicks nor punches would ever reach him; he was goading her on, taunting her and trying to get her to access the abilities that she had been working so very hard on.

 She was conflicted, her stance faltered for a moment, the tightness of her jaw slackened as her shoulders followed; all concentration on the fight faded into an internal battle. She could see Mordo clearly, the way he nodded didn't go unnoticed at all, and as for Stephen, he'd been cheering throughout the fight, and now he was silent. Clearly he'd caught on to what Mordo was trying to get Emilia to do.

 He might have been the newest of the bunch, but Stephen knew Emilia well, or at least he'd like to think so. Whilst he knew not of the nightmares that plagued her every evening and the horrific images that her mind played out for her, Stephen knew just how much Emilia feared her abilities... And in all honesty, he couldn't blame her.

 They were limitless, and the thought of someone having such power to bend to their will... Of course it was terrifying.

 Stephen wasn't quite an optimistic man; he pointed out flaws just for the purpose of overcoming them, and though Emilia seemed as though sunshine could beam from her pores, she was like him; a pessimist... When it came to herself, at least.

 She thought over every little thing that could go wrong, and that feeling in her bones and gut that sprouted every time she tapped into her powers crippled her. It made her freeze and falter, and though Stephen would usually have scoffed at anyone else, or tell them they'd likely lose control, he couldn't bring himself to do that, not to Emilia.

 Her eyes fell to him, and the look of helplessness that shone so rarely on her features was all too prominent; he hated it. He was used to her crooked smile, her pearly teeth that displayed whenever she grinned, her laugh that could wake a village and make the meanest of men smile.

 So he nodded, just like Mordo, showing the woman that he too, had every confidence in her ability to wield her power like a sword.

 He couldn't have known it, but that mere, tiny little action soothed her. Emilia knew what kind of man Strange was; she knew he believed in only himself, and at times not even that. He saw flaws more prominently than most. His time at the Kamar-Taj and his time in her presence had changed him thoroughly; seeing that he, of all people truly believed she'd be just fine, gave her that little spark of confidence in the depths of her gut.

 There was no noise, no change in Emilia's stance as the previously discarded bamboo pole came hurtling towards her and landed in the palm of her outstretched hand, and without a hint of hesitance, she threw it towards Mordo with every ounce of her strength, using her abilities to curve it just slightly.

 It was strange, to see the air around the flying object ripple with streaks of pale blue as though the pole was underwater. And it seemed as though the more Emilia used her abilities, the more she practised... The more noticeable it was.

 Like that, the pole connected with Mordo's shins, sending him to the ground.

 He chuckled, a booming sound that echoed across the courtyard as he sat up, using a hand to dust himself off. Emilia, still rather shell-shocked at the way she'd used her abilities, let out a sharp breath and a short chuckle followed it.

 Sweat had beaded on her forehead at the amount of concentration it had taken for her to use her power, but her body was relaxed, all hints of tension had vanished into thin air.

 Stephen grinned from his place to the side, on one of the stone steps as Emilia turned to him with a smile that could have lit the darkest night. The sincerity of her smile was a sight, the smile was for nobody but herself.

 "You did it!" Mordo yelled, his lips tugged upwards at either side, snapping Emilia's gaze from the former surgeon, "I knew you could."

 "I can't..." Emilia swallowed, her throat feeling rather tight all of a sudden as she looked to her hands that had once caused such chaos, "I can't believe it."

 The swiftly fading sunlight shone on her hands, a golden glow encasing her as she studied them; each was scarred, little scrapes and burns from her training, and her days working with various chemicals, such things that held vast power.

 It was the very first time she had tapped into them without the Ancient One nearby; the sorcerer supreme was her safety net, the person she'd look to the moment she felt her abilities falter... And perhaps that very person was also a hurdle, a boundary.

 It was almost as though the Ancient One coddled her like a child, asking for Emilia to only step out of her comfort zone by a hair... This was all, of course, at Emilia's own request; but Mordo and Stephen holding such faith in her control had willed her to use the abilities she was so scared of.

 Now, she was still irrevocably petrified of them, but this was a step in the right direction, a step closer to control.

 "You don't believe it?" Stephen echoed as she finally approached the two, his shaking fingers hung by his side as Emilia brought her eyes away from her own, "All you've done is practise since I've been here."

 "Even so."

 He shook his head, and once Emilia could see him clearly once again, a rather foreign look was dusting his sharp features; soft pools of blue stared at her, eyebrows that curled with fondness rested upon his forehead, and a smile that ever so slightly pulled his lips upwards was painted on his face, "I knew you could do it."

 Emilia had always been confident in her academic abilities, she took pride in her mind and the things she could do; she had worked so incredibly hard to achieve the things she had, after all. Thus, she never sought the approval of others, she knew she was good, great even, and nobody needed to reassure her of that.

 But those powers that tangled her dreams into a cobweb of nightmares... Just merely hearing the praise of the Ancient One relieved her, hearing Mordo speak of his trust in her warmed her heart, yet hearing Stephen, the man who placed himself on a slowly lowering pedestal, voice that he truly believed in her? That was something else.

 "Thank you." Emilia breathed, dutifully ignoring the way her heart thudded a little faster inside of her chest. She cleared her throat, skillfully avoiding both sets of eyes trained upon her form, "Stephen, why don't you give it a go?"

 Stephens face dulled. He had trained in the air, swiping shaking hands through light breezes... Surely that should be enough? But of course, Emilia was ever so persistent. He had hoped to be able to slink away in the midst of the previous fight, but annoyingly enough, he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

 "That's the last thing I want to do." He grumbled, picking away at his robe; for once he hoped he could simply disappear into the scenery, rather than have his ass handed to him in a fight in front of the students that surrounded them... And Emilia.

 "Oh, come on Stephen, give the air a break, it can't fight back."

 "Yeah, that's the point."

 Emilia rolled her eyes as she huffed in both amusement and agitation; none of their conversations could ever stray from a petty squabble, could they?

 "Fine."

 Stephen frowned, the lines of his forehead deepening at the look of innocence on her face; it was a look that he certainly did not trust. Emilia and 'innocent' could never be paired in a sentence; from her sessions of swearing like a sailor to the innuendos she'd slyly speak, Emilia was nothing close to innocent.

 "Fine?" Stephen questioned, feeling his fight or flight instincts begging him to run as far as he possibly could from the woman who consistently irritated him, and yet somehow held him like putty in her palms.

 "Uh-huh." Emilia smiled as she twirled the stick of bamboo in her hands. The sound of the object slicing through the air made Stephen step back, before clutching at his stomach as Emilia, once again, poked him with it. "If you won't fight Mordo, fight me."

 Mordo — as ever when it came to the pair before him — stood back with a lopsided smile as he watched the pair bicker as though they were still school children. They certainly were a pair indeed. He snickered, "Strange, you might as well choose now, she's relentless."

 "Oh, I know —" Stephen responded, smacking the bamboo away from himself once again, "— Would you stop it? I think I'd rather fight Mordo than you."

 Emilia laughed as she threw the stick towards him, refraining from snorting as he barely caught it. "Well then, good luck."

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31-08-2021

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; a little update for you, I've managed to get a fair amount of pre-writing done for this story, therefore, from now on, whenever I finish writing a chapter, I'll immediately update this story! Don't forget to vote and especially comment!!