A Promised Meeting

Alastor shrugged. That she was attached to it was not surprising or new. It was that attachment that had to be addressed; not so that it was removed entirely, but so that she could be more than just a shark in fights in very specific situations.

"The Third Phalanx teaches us that Adaptability is Strength, Talon. Part of that is that we do not have preferences. We must be ready to die every day and become whatever we must be given the situation. We must be warriors wherever we can be, growing into the ability to fight everywhere from night-time duels in secluded Sanctums to battlefields in the desert to aggressive negotiations in a boardroom."

He shouldered the shotgun and removed his sunglasses, squinting at her through sun-sensitive eyes.

"I'm not going to make you do it, Galatea. But you need to ask yourself - are you just an Orphan? Or an Arrow, ready to die today and become who she needs to be as the Phalanxes require?"

Galatea gritted her teeth. To be just... human? The thought sent shivers down her spine. She was so envious of the animals she took the form of- envious that they would go through their whole lives in their skin, never hating themselves for it. It was this that made her so attached to her forms. It was this that caused her to shake her head gently

"Today I am just an Orphan, Commander. I'm sorry- it's still too soon to just abandon it like that."

It was clearly going to take time, to get comfortable fighting in a human form.

"Out there I can manage it... Barely. These shifts are the most comfortable part of me- I'm trying, truly. But I'm still attached. I'm getting closer- but I'm not just ready to shed my dances yet. "

The squint held, a long stare before finally, he shrugged, let out a grunt and put his aviators back on.

"Huh. Comfort'll get you killed one day, soldier. Next time, we train in the river at night. The time after that, we train in a city park."

He was about as comfortable fighting underwater as she was without her shark-face. Lead by example, right?

He strolled off to the side of the fighting ring and began to pack up, wordlessly sliding his shotgun back into its tube and the chain into his backpack. He winced a little as he moved, the bruises from his body's absorption of the Abyss's infiltration covering his ribs in sensitive areas.

Ready to wrap?

Galatea nodded

"I understand, sir. I look forward to training... Do you have wounds that need healing?"

She wasn't aware that she'd done any damage- yet he seemed hurt.

"And I hope you're a good swimmer. A month in the ocean teaches you a few things. I'm going to stay here, exercise a bit. Practice punches that don't involve roaring like a berserker."

I'm good to wrap up.

"Naw. Paradox. I'll be fine in an hour or two," Alastor said, figuring that was enough explanation. Backlash stuck around. A Mage had to do their time, and that was that, no early parole. Her healing wouldn't be able to do anything for it, sadly - and what was a training session without some sore bits afterward?

Nodding at her plan for ongoing exercise, the First Talon picked up his gear.

"Good work today."

And with that, he was gone.