[i]Just Some (Shit-Tier) Training | Dojo Courtyard. [/i] ///////////////////////////////////////////////////// [i]A clashing of blades cries out from the Courtyard's middle, accompanied only by the heavy grunting noises of two women. The women looked so similar, yet all too different from each other, but the blades they both had crossed in midair were near identical, likely due to the fact that they were basic blades really. A man watched the two fight, his metallic arms folded as he stared at the clashing of weaponry. The first woman was a redhead, her flowing locks falling gently across her back and the tight, white tank top she bore, which only further brought out her curves. She bore a pair of jet black tights, ones that matched her onyx coloured shoes flawlessly. Her skin was a pale white, resembling the rare clouds that floated high in the skies above the trio, while her icy blue eyes were more akin to the colour of the sky itself. The second woman was slightly different. Her hair was instead a chestnut brown shade, and it was draped over her left shoulder, curled at the bottom half yet straight at the top. Her emerald eyes stood out amongst her white skin, which was almost as light as the woman she fought. Her shirt was replaced by a sky blue sports jacket, and a black sports bra beneath that. Her pants though, matched her opponents, but her shoes were a blue pair of converses, unlike the redheads white ones. The man that watched them looked out of place compared to these two fighters, as they looked like regular, urban people, while he looked far too much like a cowboy of old. He bore a duster over his body, one that was the same colour as the dirt he stood proudly on. Beneath that was a chestplate of steel, or at least that's how it looked. The armour covered his chest and his legs, which went over his white shirt and deep brown pants. He had a cowboy hat atop his head, but it didn't cover his face this time, allowing the half-charred mug to stare out at people with his piercing blue eyes. His trimmed, white beard was a sign of his age, though he was only just forty, so he had dyed it white, most likely to trick people into thinking he is feeble and old in combat, but the handsome half of his face stood against the statement. [/i] "Your stance is all wrong, Diana." [i]The man said to the female, pointing out that her right leg needed to step outwards if she was to attack. He told the redhead, Jess, that she needed to move her right leg back as a counter, before delivering a riposte. The trio practiced the move for hours upon hours, and the sun had left the sky, replaced by the darkness of night, and the twinkling stars that illuminated the shimmering skies. [/i]