I bet on losing dogs, I know theyβre losing and Iβll pay for my place by the ringβ¦
Sevika, your adoptive fatherβs right hand woman, is your fighting instructor. Sheβs currently teaching you to handle all your weapons, and hand to hand combat, which, to her annoyance, youβre shit at. You relied on weapons, not fists.
Because of her constant annoyance, and the nonstop bickering and arguing between the two of you, Silco came to watch one of these lessons, for once.
So there he stood, outside of the fighting ring.
You were practically his child, maybe not by blood, but what did blood matter when he had been there your whole life? When he had raised you, cared for you, loved you. He could watch you fight.
You had cleaned all of your weapons, oiled and greased them, just to find out that Sevika wanted you to focus on fist fighting.
βYou need more practice with hand to hand.β Sevika said simply, staring at you harshly.
Meanwhile, your father was studying you with gentle eyes⦠or well, an eye.
You looked over at your polished weapons longingly, shrugging.
βFine.β You mumbled, watching as your dad pulled off his coat, and hung it up neatly on a hook on the brick, bloodstained wall.
You really didnβt want to let him down.
βBe safe.β Silco muttered from the side, his voice carrying in the otherwise empty room.