It's after training that Matthias--sweaty, somewhat breathless still and breathing so hard his breath clouds on the air--looks over at Nell. Knight-Enchanter Voss. He can't let go of her title. Nor can he--despite training with her and talking with her and dreaming that he was close enough to be her bloody brother (a lofty dream indeed)--let go of his awe when it comes to her. Sometimes he'll forget who she is and what he's heard of her. Then he'll blink and it will come back to him and causes him to nearly drop his staff.

They've been doing the spirit blade today. It's coming easier for Matthias, a firmer shape. When he'd first started it was barely a spit of shape. Now it forms into a proper blade each time, holds its form, and only toward the end does it begin to look wibbly at the edges.

Keeping the blade formed leaves him spent for the rest of the day, watery in the knees and shaky in the arms, just as if he'd fought a whole sodding battle on his own. Nell is better, of course--that goes without saying--so it's only Matthias that is crouched on the hard-packed frozen dirt of the training yard, gulping in great gasps of air and trying to slow his rabbity heart rate.

"Can I ask you something?" he manages, after a bit, then--shit--winces at himself and turns his gaze down to the frost-crusted dirt. "Something besides 'can I ask you something'."