Hannibal stopped on the way back to his weyr when he noticed the man. The sword wasn't a weapon he was familiar with, and he watched in fascination. He found a convenient bit of rock out of the way to sit on, not wanting to disturb him in any way. Morath was napping as he often did, young as he was, so he didn't have anything he needed to be doing.
Darvish's muscles were burning with exertion in the most delightful way. Sweat was dripping from his long hair and into his eyes. He paused to wipe them clear, then saw the man, the older one he'd noticed at the lesson. He nodded a greeting. "Hello, friend."
"Hello," he answered with a smile. He nodded towards his sword hand. "I see you know how to use that. Even without experience, it's easy to see that you're an expert." The knives they favored here hadn't been too difficult for him to pick up; they were similar enough to what he'd used at home. A sword, on the other hand, would take ages to learn.
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