GoldenCat/PaleMeetsFire
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A Pale Angel meets a Fire Bird
Vorpal: Vorpal has seen what a Shadowland does to the green life of Creation.
Presence of the necrotic Essence of Underworld is like an ever-frozen blanket of ice thrown over the land. It slowly absorbs the warmth of life from everything. It blackens grass, shrivels leaves and withers flowers, twisting even the reddest of roses into a dark and moody nightmare of itself. While the Pale Angel has always thought that certain aspects of death held a strange... beauty to them, she has never seen it in the lame, stunted vegetation of Underworld.
Strolling through a moon-lit garden of Boil, Vorpal is vividly reminded of a Shadowland. The resemblance, especially at night-time, is almost uncanny. Trees and bushes here, they all try their very best to thrive, yet it is the environment itself that seeks to push them back. The strange lack of vitality is the same, absence of vibrancy as well. This oppression of life is no work of the Essence of Underworld, however. No, it is the work of the industrious man.
Spying a lonely figure standing in the moonlight ahead, she frowns, and slows down her steps.
Kanti: Kanti stands in the middle of a small and scraggly lawn, the moonlight making her skin and her robes seem dark, almost black. The scars on her skin are still visible though, as swirling designs that drink up the moon light that falls on them, curves of absolute black. She is unarmed as she stands there, though faint swilrls of fire play over the complex bracers she wears on occasion.
As Vorpal approaches, she is holding one leg up to her head, her eyes closed, just holding it in a stretch, perfectly balanced.
Vorpal: She halts by the edge of the lawn, the folds of her cloak settling into a black curtain around her. There is some movement under black velvet as she folds her arms and tilts her hip slightly for a more comfortable position. The Ghost-Blooded stands clearly in the middle of the pathway, not hiding in the shadows but not seeking to disturb the other woman, either, at least not while she is pursuing her.... whatever it is she is pursuing here in the garden at night. It looks a bit like the beginnings of a dance or a martial arts kata to Vorpal - not that the Pale Angel knows too much about such things, but you could not walk among Exalted without seeing things like it once in a while.
So, she just waits, silently, watching... and, it has to be admitted, appreciating in a way.
A matching woman for these surroundings, I suppose.
Kanti: After holding the stretch Kanti swings her leg down in one simple, graceful, impossible movement, turning it's motion into a spin that becomes a leap, her other leg swinging up into what might be a kick ... before she seems to sense the presence there on the path, and stops her spin facing the strange woman.
Her eyes fly open, then widen a little with fear and another emotion that should not be there ... hope, as she takes in the cloaked figure who disturbed the begining of her practice.
dark cloak ...
pale skin ...
She has sent someone for me!
....no...no...not now....
...no, it is the woman from earlier...
...the one the Prince likes...
...the one they say is dead.
Does the Prin-...
Kanti cuts off that line of thought as she sinks into a deep and respectful curtsey, reigning in her fear as best she can, though her breath is definately misting up the cool night air more than it was before.
"Good evening, Pale Angel."
Vorpal: A little snort escapes her then. She lifts her hands, cloak parting to reveal the black armor and white complexion underneath, and pushes her hood down. Her face and hair are almost... luminous in moonlight, her skin fringed with an unearthly halo - like an apparation, or a ghost.
"I suppose the whole city already knows who I am", she states, perhaps a little amused by the thought. She moves up onto the lawn, sizing the other woman up. "The Dark Angel told me about someone resembling you. Are you the one?"
Kanti: Kanti apprehensively straightens herself from the curtsey, though her posture does nothing to suggest anything other than a desire to serve and the uttmost respect ... and fear. She was one of them, and her appearance was even more unearthly than the Dark Angel ... and something about her worried Kanti on a deep, deep level.
"I have heard many and great things about you, Pale Angel. You helped save the city." she says this last bit with a small smile on her face. That at least was good. "I am the Dark Angel's," a look of what might be guilt passes over her face briefly as she says this, though it could be the Pale Angel's imagination. "My name is Kanti."
Vorpal: For a second, she stares at the other woman, her gaze hard and inscrutable.
You are hers and you feel... guilty about it?
Then her mien softens, and she lets out a little laugh. "Yes, I'm sure the Dark Angel has told you all about me."
She lets the meaning of that hang unanswered in the air as she walks further onto the lawn and circles around Kanti to get herself some space. "It looks like I arrived a bit too late for the main fight", she admits and reaches over her shoulder to slide the great black sword free from its harness. "But at least I could help with the dragon."
A pause.
"That was a nice kick", Vorpal adds, and presents the flat of the dark sword for Kanti. "Can you hit a moving target as well? I will keep the edge away from you, so you won't be cut."
Kanti: As the Pale Angel stares, Kanti freezes, much like a mouse that knows it has caught the eye of some great bird of prey, trapped in the indescision ... stay still and hope or run. Then the Pale Angel seems to relax, and so does Kanti, not sure what to make of the comment ... truely, the Dark Angel had spoken of her much at all, all the things Kanti had heard from the wounded in the hospital.
Then she starts to circle, Kanti turning uncomfortably to keep track of her, finding herself slowly assuming a defensive pose as the worrying woman move around her. The sword...Kanti's eyes focus on the soulsteel blade, a nervous set coming over her body. She barely hears the rest of the Pale Angels words.
so wrong...
why are their blades so wrong?
why do they cry out in such pain?
she said she won't cut me though...
they cut so badly though...so cold...so dead.
so many cuts...
...all over me...
...all the blades crying.
Kanti pulls herself out of her reverie, her eyes seeming to come back into focus, to stop reacting to horror from a different time, a different night, and wills her muscles to relax, assuming the correct form once more, an almost saintly aura surrounding her, though she has used no magic.
"I ...thank you for the offer, Pale Angel." she says, trying and failing to keep a slight tremble from her voice. Something about her posture, though she still looks saintly, suggests she is ready to kick ... or to run.
Vorpal: There is a strange thing about Vorpal's sword, however. It should be crying, but it isn't. There should be faces moving along that blade's dark surface, souls locked within, whimpering, moaning, peering out from their prison... but there isn't. That sword is smooth, gleaming black, and utterly silent. It is watchful silence, vigilant and ominous, like the calm before the storm, or the split-second of tension just before the sword-arm snaps forth, to drive the weapon home into blood and gore.
She handles the gigantic blade as it were a twig, easily holding its entire weight aloft with a single hand. Without a word, she takes a step to the side and turns slightly, to present the blade for the Dragon-Blooded maiden while keeping herself out of the way of any possible.... stray shots.
Kanti: Kanti gathers herself, and then she strikes with an almost lazy blow that sweeps up to connect with the sword the Pale Angel holds out, the force behind the blow non-the-less enough to make it recoil. Just before the blow hits, Kanti's eyes lose their calm expression, nervousness spreading out from them, almost sure she will be hurt, somehow.
Vorpal: There is a strange thing about Vorpal's sword, however. It should be crying, but it isn't. There should be faces moving along that blade's dark surface, souls locked within, whimpering, moaning, peering out from their prison... but there isn't. That sword is smooth, gleaming black, and utterly silent. It is watchful silence, vigilant and ominous, like the calm before the storm, or the split-second of tension just before the sword-arm snaps forth, to drive the weapon home into blood and gore.
She handles the gigantic blade as it were a twig, easily holding its entire weight aloft with a single hand. Without a word, she takes a step to the side and turns slightly, to present the blade for the Dragon-Blooded maiden while keeping herself out of the way of any possible.... stray shots.
Kanti: Kanti gathers herself, and then she strikes with an almost lazy blow that sweeps up to connect with the sword the Pale Angel holds out, the force behind the blow non-the-less enough to make it recoil. Just before the blow hits, Kanti's eyes lose their calm expression, nervousness spreading out from them, almost sure she will be hurt, somehow.
Vorpal: It is stronger than she expected. Vorpal feels the tremor running along her hand as the kick connects. She allows the sword to sway back along with the force - resisting that sort of blow would only result in an aching arm tomorrow.
"That is martial arts, isn't it?" she asks as she brings the sword forward again. This time she begins to spin the weapon in a lazy, uneven motion however, providing the Dragon-Blooded with the moving target she had promised. "What is this style called?"
Kanti: Kanti settles herself back into the same radiant pose after the kick, trying to stand easily in the strange woman's presence.
"It is, Pale Angel. It is called the Infinate Viridian Radiance style. Though it is the only style I have mastered."
Kanti focuses once more on the slowly waving blade, this time punching open palmed, the strike is once seems strangly languid, despite the power behind it when it connects, the rest of her body moving as if in a dance, motions that could flow to more of the lazy strikes, or similarly effortless defences.
Vorpal: "Hmm", Vorpal responds, watching Kanti as the beautiful girl goes through her motions. "Where did you learn it?"
For the next blow, she gives the blade a sudden flick with her wrist, abruptly twisting the weapon out of the blow's way, just to see if the girl would react to it in time.
Kanti: "My ..master taught it to me after he guided my initiation through the Iris Bulb Understanding of Secular and Profane Brokerage, Pale Angel. I have been practicing the style for about 16 years now."
The kick she launches serenely up to meet the sword is wholely unprepared for the sudden movement of the blade, though she reacts all the same, tilting on her other leg, the one doing the kick twisting in a way that is quite inhuman, but still graceful, the blow having lost some of it's power when it connects, spinning after the blow to regain her saintly fighting pose.
Vorpal: Practiced it for 16 years?
Vorpal's mien does not change, but she makes a mental note to cease thinking about the Dragon-Blooded as a girl. Chances are that she is older than the Pale Angel herself is.
The kick itself is interesting. She is certain that people - even the most lithe ones - should not be able to move their limbs like that. A feature of the martial art style itself? Or just another display of Exaltation? She doesn't ask.
"It is graceful", she states, even as the blade spins around for another lazy sweep through the air.
Kanti: "..Thank you, Pale Angel." she says before she kicks again with the other leg, another spinning kick, this time with more power, the slow grace of the style seeming to make her hang in the air before it connects.
"Do you practice any Martial Arts, if I may ask, Pale Angel?"
Vorpal: "Yes, yes I do", the Pale Angel responds, her red eyes flicking for a moment from Kanti's foot to the other woman's face, then back again. "In where I come from, we call it the Indiscriminating Grappling Style. But I don't need to use it much."
She brings the sword around again, but this time, instead of continuing with the practice, she lifts the blade to rest on her shoulder. "Now, if I may ask in return, why the haunted look in your eyes every time your hit is about to connect? I don't hurt people unless I have a good reason to."
Kanti: Kanti's eyes flash unreadably as the question is asked, maintaining the fighting pose of a sort, but not widing up to attack.
...she noticed?
...I ..she..what do I say to her?
...what do I do?
She looks up into the red eyes set in the pale face, and speaks softly.
It is an evil weapon.
It is a horrific weapon.
It is a weapon of tortured souls.
It is a weapon anathema to everything I have learned to fight.
It is a weapon anathema to everything this style embodies.
...just like you.
"...It is soulsteel, Pale Angel."
Vorpal: "Ah", Vorpal responds. It makes sense - people usually feel uneasy around soulsteel. Most of the Exalted she has met think of it more rationally, of course - they are careful about dealing with it, but not so terrified of it. In the case of this Dragon-Blooded, however, there seems to be more to it than what the woman is telling.
"In that case", she says and suddenly lifts the weapon from its resting place, "We are finished here." And to make a point for her words, she flips the sword around once and sheathes it once more.
Kanti: Something in her posture seems to relax as the weapon is sheathed, a grateful expression passing briefly over her face.
"If it pleases you, Pale Angel."
She bows deeply to the pale angel before straightening once more.
"..Thank you for the practice."
Vorpal: Her response is a dismissive wave of hand.
Not at all.
"Good night", the Pale Angel says. Without another word, she turns around and moves off, her cloak sweeping along the stunted lawn grass. Moon still shines on her white hair, but the rest of her is just gently shifting darkness, easily melting into the background.
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