((OOC: We're picking up before Jimi came into the role play due to his inactiveness.))

They both seemed to have learned something from this encounter, that much was certain. To what extent was the real question and would they really hold what they learned to heart and not let memories drive them or thoughts even? Doubtfully, no matter what you did they would be there, always threatening to break you down. Could they be faltered? Of course, it all depended on the will and mind of the person. He was of strong will but of weak mind and that's what caused his spiralling downfall, but now he was fine again all thanks to her.

As she spoke of nobility, he simply shook his head, “It doesn't matter if you've picked up the exact family trade, you still have to an extent. I'm sure your father was a kind man being a noble, or at least that's what I am to believe. And you yourself....You're of kind heart as well, so in your own little way you're a noble. It doesn't matter if you swing a sword or not. It's only when you kill for an unrightful cause is when you lose all kindness. Personally I try not to kill at all...I will try and take them down without it ending in death, because I refuse to carry that burden. That's just me however.”

The smile left his graceous features, as his eyes slid closed for a moment, “You only learn if you choose to listen. Like it or not sometimes we all have no choice but to listen. Whether the words are true or not, we do not know, but our heart will tell. Like when I was told my father had left me, well..I never believed it and that was my choice. Later I wished I had listened, because I know I could have stopped him or left with him, but then again....I would have left my mother all alone. Honestly, I couldn't tell you what I would have done if I would have listened, but I'd be damned if I wouldn't have tried to stop him.” Slowly his eyes drifted open and lifted up to the moon again, lost in his own thoughts for the moment.

He was a man who spoke from the heart and from the soul. He was a one of a kind guy, there was no one that was as serious as him and as goofy at the same time. Perhaps it's what made him interesting to so many. Though over time those many turned to few and soon to none.

Folding his angelic wings around his frame again, he propped himself up against the opposing pillar to the one she was leaning on. Languidly his green orbs drifted slowly down to her, “Tell me something....How long have you been using that thing and why did you decide to start?” He motioned towards the sword with his free hand, hoping she would follow to where he was gestured at. Cocking a brow slightly, he spoke again, “One more thing, why in the world would you pick that weapon anyway?”

He laughed lightly at his comment, before noticing she may take offence to such a thing. He stiffled himself and quickly shot off a response, “Sorry, it's a nice weapon, I just was saying its a heavy weapon and sluggish.” Nervously his right lifted to the back his head and rubbed at it, “I apologize if I offended ya or anything. Some people are kind of sensitive to those kind of things. Even myself..” Moving his hand from the back of his head and to the hilt that rose forth over his shoulder. Clasping his digits around its thickness, he gave it a slight jerk and pulling it from the confines of the sabbard. Pushing off from the pillar he drew the blade in front of him where he proceeded in swinging it a few times. It had been a long time since he used the thing, but he still knew very well what to do with it. He was quite skilled in the art, which is why he was able to bring a man down in a single blow, but not one that ended in death or anything close unless it went untreated of course.

Turning his attention to Jocelyn, he made a motion to throw the sword before intially throwing it hoping that she caught on to what he was going to do with it. The blade flipped a few times through the air, but ended up coming hilt first to Jocelyn. As he threw the blade, he spoke briskly, “This was given to me by my mother. You would think it was my Father's, but people are sadly mistaken. My Dad was a pitiful man to tell you the truth, he really held no grounds in the fields of battle, yet he still was placed there. My Mom could have easily defeated him in battle, it was something I did not know until she passed the blade to me. This was after my father fled, he supposedly fled out of fear of the upcomming war which never happened. Indeed...My old man taught me the art of the blade, that wasn't the hard part. It was the fine tuning and my Mother did that. It shocked me to know that she too wielded the blade, but to my suprise she was better than most any guy out there. That was her blade, the very one she won as a prize from the arena battles back in my homelands.” Heaving a sigh, his eyes drifted back to the skies, wondering where his mother was now, as he conntinued, “It's a long story, I may decide to explain it later, at another date perhaps.”

Jocelyn had learned from Vailen, whether it is from his caring listening ear or from his own troubles that she had shed some light on. She felt more comfortable around him now and they seemed to have grown some mutual respect for each others heart ache and problems. Both were troubled beings, of course, neither of their troubles being larger over the other's. All troubles hurt the heart and they felt pain, and neither problems nor troubles of these two beings would cause more pain.

Noble? What did it mean to be noble? Were you supposed to gallivant across the country with diplomatic ideas and have pleasant conversations with scholars and leaders from different regions? Or, was the idea of nobility in the mind of man? Only people, who were not truly noble, were titled nobles. True men of the court did not speak of this title and did not label themselves as so. Jocelyn, you could say, was indeed a noble, but she held no throne, court position, or had diplomatic ideas in her mind. She simply thought of the best for Chaon and what she needed to accomplish to guarantee full lives for all people.

Learning is a hand in hand relationship. You must be willing to learn and you must be willing to listen. You should always want to learn something new. It is what makes the world what it is. New ideas, people, and places pop up from the ground every day and you must learn for these. One should be open minded and should not discriminate or judge such ideas of things. Discrimination and judgment only shuts the ears and eyes to new adventures of learning.

The thoughts that had swam in and out of her mind finally dispersed and Jocelyn watched the angelic man fold his wings around his slender body. Jocelyn watched his green orbs wondrously, but when the lowered to meet her own, her own eyes faltered for a moment until he spoke. He was inquiring about the sword that she wore proudly on her hip. He was obviously curious to why she was who she was and how it began. Jocelyn would tell him in all good time.

Jocelyn drew her own sword and held it in front of her face while observing the thick silver blade. It was very clean for a warriors blade and it looked very well tended to. "I have been training at the academy of arms for about fourteen years now and blades were always my weapon of choice. I cannot explain what it is about the sleek metal, but I am in love." Jocelyn joked and then shook her head as he apologized for his bluntness. "No need to apologize, my friend. I knew what you meant by the question and there was no insults of pain taken from it. Like I had said, I cannot explain why I fell in love with the broad sword." Jocelyn sheathed the sword once more and sighed.

"I had picked up this art when my mother died. When I was only four, she passed during child birth. I was thankful for the baby brother I got out of it, but the death of my mother was devastating. It changed my girlish mind and turned me into a raging tomboy." Jocelyn paused and laughed at her past. It was certainly a tale to tell at the fire. "I suppose, that is the reason why I picked it up; to save my loved ones. To free me of any pain in the future if needed be. Of course, I cannot fight away the illness that plagues my father as we speak."

When Vailen drew his sword and then did a beautiful spin in the air, the hilt was coming towards Jocelyn. She suspected this is what he meant to do; for her to catch it and look at the amazing work of the sword. The female had indeed caught the blade and she twirled it around in her hand as she observed the perfect craftsmanship. Jocelyn lowered the blade slightly as he spoke of this blade that used to belong ot his mother. This was truly a different kind of tale and she had never heard of a cowardly father and a sword yeilding mother.

When Vailen had finished his tale Jocelyn was ready to speak her own. Jocelyn drew her own broad sword and threw it into the air as it spun gallantly, catching the moons gleams, and then silently came back down, hilt first, so Vailen could catch her own blade. "Tis a sad story Vailen, but I do believe some things happen for the best." Jocelyn explained and then continued on with her own blade story.

"The sword you hold is Natulian. It is my fathers Elvin name. It was forged for me and me only. It was created in the forests of the Moon Elves. I named it for my father hoping it would somehow magically cure his illness. If you hadn't noticed yet, it may feel uncomfortable to you. This sword was made for my hand size and weight. It may seem lighter than any broad sword you may have held before, thanks the clever elves." Jocelyn told the tale of Natulian, the silver gleaming sword. It had been so long since she had told the tale of her blade and she was happy to tell it once more.

Skimming upwards, his emerald hues watched the ascent of the blade, before it came to an almost standstill position in the air. Within a matter of a second the sword came back down swiftly. He lifted his right hand up to meet the oncoming blade, catching it tightly within his binding grip at the hilt. Sharply his arm jolted sharply downwards and to his side, allowing the blade to slice cleanly through the air. A soft whistling noise emitting itself as the jagged razor sharp edges cut through the air. It was a truly magnificent blade, but he'd rather have his over any other.

Slowly he brought the blade up to a vertical base in front of his eyes, allowing them to calculatively move across its sleek surface. Its craftsmanship was indeed unmatched, as he simply listened to her explain its origin in a detailed story, far more than his. Nodding his head once she finished, he spoke in a calm collective manner, “Quite the blade, it fits its user perfectly. Strong, sturdy, sharp, and finely fabricated.”

A soft smile danced across his lips, as his eyes moved from the blade and to its user for a moment, before speaking again, “That blade you hold there, they said had a lot of history behind it. It was wielded by only the greatest swordsmen and women in the land. Though, there were only two holders of the blade before my mother. After she won it she gave up fighting for she was pregant with me. The two holders of the blade before her was my grandfather. My mother's father, and a man who could only be rivaled by no other. He was a brutish man, one I never thought could be beaten, but he was struck by Mother's blade. A supposed near fatal wound, but it didn't seem like it bothered him a whole lot. He got up and walked out on the match after it happened. No one saw him since.”

Falling silent again he simply shrugged his shoulders, before speaking again, “If you look at the encrypted script on the blade near the base right now, that would be the name my Grandfather went by back then, Mordecai. The other side possesses the name of the man my mother beat to get the sword, Baranata. Some say he was a demon, but all information about him seems to be nothing but myth. No one knew anything of him or even where he came from, truly a shady character if you ask me. Some say he's the one who killed my---” His voice choked up, as his eyes instinctively drifted up to the starlit sky trying his best to retain his emotions. In a croaking voice he continued, “They say he killed her. Out of revenge for making him look foolish, no one knows for sure. It was--” Again his voice choked up as he bit on his lip trying not to shed emotion, his eyes welling with liquid, but still retaining himself not wanting to shed a tear.

Clearing his throat, his gaze dropped down to her, his eyes sparkling from the wetness, “I guess I still can't will myself to talk about it.” Heaving a heavy sigh his eyelids slid shut, thinking for a few moments, “But I'll know I always have her, both in the heart of the sword and where it counts...” His free hand lifted to his chest, placing itself across his heart, “Right here.”