Laches, or Courage PV Taizu Miyashiro closed

It was usually not a pretty sight, watching someone fight. He supposed that it could be, what with the elegance and precision necessary to cast certain spells, but that tended not to be the case. The yells of pain, the sweat and the tears, the distortion and disintegration of the human body, all intentionally caused. To want to do someone harm was an ugly thing, there was no doubt about it. And yet it was turned into a game. For schoolchildren, no less. They sat around a stage, watching two of their peers set each other on fire, cut into each others skin, electrocute one another, with no official reason other then the spectacle.

And by god was it fun.

It was fun for the audience, certainly. Lights and sounds, a veritable dance between two or more wizards eager to prove themselves. But that was not the perspective that Lamik considered when he said that it was fun. Instead, he had had the pleasure of seeing it from the inside, as a duelist. Compared to that, being a spectator was practically pointless. It wasn't necessarily that any specific part of the duel was fun, or even that it was enjoyable as a whole. In fact, quite the opposite was true. It was miserable, regardless of whether or not you won. You never get by unscathed, and neither do your friends. Not only that, but you're forced to live with the knowledge that you caused someone harm not on accident, and not because you were forced to, but because it is what you most wanted to do at that moment. That weighed heavily on the boys mind quite often- after all, who was someone who was willing to harm others so often? This thought never amounted to much, of course, because of the implication of dueling. The implications were where the fun came from. Win, and you know that you've overcome a terrible obstacle. You know that you're more prepared for the dangers of the world then you were yesterday. You know that you've perfected a skill, or gotten very close, and that you have one less threat in the world to face. Lose, and you know what your next goal is. Improve. And once you do improve, and you do win... you feel invincible. Untouchable. Cathartic.

Maybe it was that feeling that caused Lamik to quit the team. He didn't need to- he wouldn't be surprised if he was the best dueler Gryffindor had. A perfect record, not a single match lost. But once you catch on to what it is that something like dueling does to you, once you realize the things its making you enjoy, you very much might grow to fear it.

Dueler or not, Lamik found himself practicing his martial skills often. Perhaps it was habit, or perhaps it was the desire to be prepared. There had been to many instances where he had been unprepared. Regardless of the reason, here he was- wand clutched tightly in hand, eyeing the mechanical targets that rolls back and forth across the room.

Flick, wave- "Flipendo." A red light shot out of his wand and slammed into a wandering target, knocking it backwards.

Flick- "Impedimenta." A turquoise light, this time, was absorbed by another target, who's wheel quickly stiffened and stuck it in place.

Point- "Incendio." Both the first and the second targets burst into flames. Lamik was quite good at spreading out his spells now. It certainly had taken some practice.

It was very suddenly that Lamik realized that he was grimacing. Bringing a hand up to his mouth as though to wipe the expression away, he looked down and shook his head. There was something wrong with him these days, he felt. He was usually so cheerful, so talkative, so friendly. Where had that gone? He barely spoke to his friends anymore, and any free time that he had was spent on studying and practicing.

"I really need to talk to people..."