GoldenCat/OriSoulFlirt
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Flirt of Orichalcum and Soulsteel
Vorpal: Clup, clup, clup go Vorpal's boot heels against the Zephyr's floor as she leads the young Exalt through the doorway and into the vast expanse of empty space that is one of the luxury cruiser's cargo holds. The velvet cloak rippling at her back like black oil, she marches across the threshold with a purposeful stride. It does not take much imagination to see her using that very same step while entering a war council or preparing for a formal duel - when approaching the matters of battle and war, one has to be resolute, even if it was something as simple as a little sparring match.
Of course, even a sparring match between Exalts could go to great lengths, but Vorpal would merely have to ensure this would not happen.
"This is your last chance to step back, you know", she states matter of factly over her shoulder. Unclasping the soulsteel brooch of her cloak, she swings the heavy garment from her shoulders and quickly folds it up.
Alexander: Wings twitching a bit as he walks into the cargo hold, every step echoing on the ground, Alexander looks at Vorpal. So different from his old teacher. In fact, his complete opposite. Otieno was a large southern man, bringing fear to all those who saw him, until he smiled a smile of pure white, showing all his sympathy. The Pale Angel, on the other hand, looks like a man's fantasy... until she speaks and freezes the air.
And that is what made him hesitate. Where it mattered, he knew Otieno wouldn't really hurt him. Where it mattered... would Lilith?
Of course not, of course not, she needs me for tomorrow, if nothing else. We need each other... of course not. They need me on that fight.... right?
Hands on the hilt of his blade, he looked across the room, to Vorpal. Suddenly he was not sure, so much power and authority that seemed to radiate from her...
No, they do... they need me against the necromancy. She needs to give me whole to her mistress. She owes me. She won't hurt me. Much.
Mustering his courage, he props his face up, unable to help but admire her as her cloak comes down. "I cannot, you know. If we are to survive tomorrow... I have to be better. I need this."
Vorpal: Vorpal gives a joyless half-laugh at his words. "We also need you to be in condition for fighting tomorrow if we are to survive", she responds, setting her cloak onto the floor close to the wall, where it won't get in their way. "Gaining more skill with the sword is all about how much you can endure while you try to learn..." She pauses, opening the buckle that holds Mournful Kiss strapped to her belt. Leaving the Daiklave's sheath on, she gives the weapon an experimental swing, testing how the sword's balance differs when compared to the naked blade.
"You can learn only by stretching yourself to the limits. And when you stretch your limits, there's always the risk of getting hurt."
Seemingly satisfied with her weapon, she leans the sword against her shoulder. Lifting one hand to her hip, she turns to face Alex with an odd smile on her lips. "And we don't want that, do we?"
Alexander: He lets the sword out of his belt, still sheathed as well. The long, ornate orichalcum handle takes the light in, the golden wing going until the sheath begins...a multitude of hues of sunlight shining where the hangar's essence lights touch it, coloring Alex's faceas if receiving the lights from an aquarium.
"I... heal fast..." He says, biting his lip... but she wouldn't hurt him much, would she? She would stop... better her than others. "Remember, after you saved me? I do..."
He gulps. Then forces his face up again. "I want to do well, Pale Angel. Train me as you have to, please."
Vorpal: Vorpal chuckles... it is an ominous sound, yet it is a true laughter, accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes. "Very well."
Suddenly she moves, not forward but backwards, a few fluid, dancing steps, the sheathed blade moving into a defensive stance. "Come at me when you're ready. Oh -- " She lifts one finger, swinging it in the air. "No Charms. We are trying to improve your own skill, not toy around with the magic in your veins."
Alexander: He holds the blade with both hands, then, horizontally in front of him. His eyes narrow. Have to show her I am good enough. Have to show her I have improved since she saw me cut by the Soulhunters... have to show her...
"I am ready!" Holding the handle with a little too much force... he took off. Sprinting towards her, trusting nothing but his body... perfected enough by the magic of his panoply, swinging the great blade as if it was light as a feather to the other side right before getting to the Pale Angel, a fast slash to the upper side of her belly!
Vorpal: Vorpal stands still like a statue, allowing the younger Exalt to close the gap between them, watching how his blade flies through the air, faster than what even the best of mortal swordsmasters could muster...
...and suddenly she moves, her body dancing out of the way, her blade dropping to swat aside Alex's sword. Their weapons have barely touched each other when she already flips Mournful Kiss up again and hurls a back-handed blow across the boy's chest, Essence speeding up her movements, making her quick like a lightning, like a striking snake, too quick, too quick...!
Abyssal Dusk Caste - Vengeful Riposte.
Alexander: Too fast, too fast.
He was expecting her to attack him next. He was not expecting her strike to be...as part of her defense, like this. A nightmarish speed. An impossible movement. Hit in the chest, Alexander staggers back, eyes wide as he coughs, air knocked out of his chest...
"That..." he says, resuming his sword-stance in a movement far too swift for a boy his age, "That is not... possible... you said.." He says, amidst gasping for air and supressing his coughs...
Vorpal: "...unless I used a Charm", Vorpal finishes for him, letting her sword fall to point at the floor. "Which I did."
"And the lesson of the story", she continues, slowly retreating backwards, giving the boy some room. "Anything is fair in love and war. You're risking your life out there, Alex. So is your opponent. Honor, chivalry, good manners, all of them are very nice, but when it comes right down to staying alive, none of it matters a whit. Be always ready for dirty game - when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, it usually is the more ruthless one who wins."
She pauses, then lifts her sword anew. "All right", she says, her eyes intent and merciless. "No Charms, for real this time."
And then she moves again, rushing across the floor like a black and white tigress, letting the weight of the Daiklave to guide her hands, sending Mournful Kiss in a mighty diagonal swing...
Alexander: She talks as he finishes coughing. The words go straight to him. Otieno said something similar, all those times. That he had to be able to stay alive to uphold anything his father wished him to. That the Crystal Lord's ways be damned, but he could not afford to be naive.
That was a hard time entering his mind.
"I will stay alive... but I don't want to. Being ready and doing it yourself have to be different!" As she struck, he was already recovered from shock and surprise, and almost as new again, showing all his vitality as he parried her blow, almost not... she almost got to him again. Almost, as he stepped back, then jumped up... his wings carrying him higher up, the lights catching his feathers and shining through them, his Daiklave shining sunlight over Vorpal, beautiful on that moment as he came down to Vorpal... beautiful. Not nessessarily merciless or swift, but certainly beautiful.
Vorpal: The sun shines behind the boy, and for a moment he is a beautiful demigod, a divine warrior descending upon her with vengeance. Vorpal has no choice but to squint in the face of that light, repositioning her sword to meet his attack more by instinct than her sight.
Using the light as a weapon, too? Not bad, Alex, not bad.
Her tongue, however, speaks words very different from those that move in her mind: "Does that mean that you will never use a Charm when you face a mortal opponent, boy?"
Mournful Kiss held in a parry sideways over her head, she allows her legs to buckle slightly at the impact as their weapons meet each other. "You are Exalted, your magic makes you a divine warrior no mortal could possibly hope to surpass!"
Her sword still held high, she lets it slide along Ainerach's blade. Forcing the young Solar's weapon aside, she hurls herself forward again, ramming her shoulder against Alex's stomach as the Windian descends from his leap... "Do you think mortals who try to fight you would consider such power fair?!"
Alexander: The light did distract her, yes....!
Short-lived celebration as she turns his blade aside, hitting him on the stomach, making him fall... almost too badly, but he was prepared enough that one flap of his wings made him fall well enough, and hold his blade defiantly again, trying not to bend over much. "No, it isn't! Which is why I shouldn't... shouldn't parade around superior station, superior power. That is not why we have it!"
The pain on his stomach disagreed. right...?
"You have changed your rules, then...?"
Vorpal: "Watch the stance", Vorpal points out, her voice soft and matter-of-fact for an eyeblink. "You're holding the sword a little too high."
Then, however, the intructor is gone and the tyrant returns. "Of course not", she barks and drops back into her battle stance. "Never flaunt your power. That only shows to others that you are insecure and afraid. Ignore the Charms, we're honing your skill!"
Deep down inside, however, the Pale Angel cannot help but to suppress a smile. It was as if she was fighting with a hero from one of those books she loves so - young and handsome, brave but perhaps a little clumsy, his mind filled with an oh-so beautiful ideal of what the world should be like...
But then comes the sobering thought, and her inner smile melts away. She dashes forth, her feet taking her into a spinning maneuver. Mournful Kiss whoosing in a wide arch like a scythe, the blade descends on the young Solar...
...only to be yanked abruptly back and jabbed forth in a low thrust.
Idealists lived long only in stories.
Alexander: He corrects his stance as quickly as he can. Tense. Watching for every muscle as she strikes... and feints. The strtike would hit him... until golden motes trailed the course of his blade, parrying Mounrful Kiss with a glowing Ainerach. It felt healthy, with sunlight... noble, then. "I will not do it. But I will be ready for it."
He manages to push it aside, "I promise you."
He darts foward, a strike simple, without power, without magic, with just... emotion. Honest, honest emotion, "I will stop them from doing it to me. I will prevail. Like this!" Pure emotion and nothing else, guiding a furious blow to her flank, past anything palaced on its way, giving himself speed and precision he should not have... but no magic. As he had agreed to.
Vorpal: She had stepped a little too far.
Vorpal knows it the moment the boy winds up for his swing. She had leant a little too much into her thrust, her legs were in the wrong position, her sword is just a few inches too far away from her flank to return there in time.
It is time to cheat. Again.
She pulls the Daiklave back, pale motes of Essence trailing after the blade as it slides smoothly, oh-so-smoothly from the offense to the defense. Yet even cheating is not enough this time, for Mournful Kiss barely even brushes Ainerach as Alex's swing flies home, hitting her flank with full force.
Although the liquid Soulsteel of the Black Queen's Vestments absorb most of the blow, air still empties from her lungs. One of her hands slips free from Mournful Kiss' handle, reaching out and grabbing Alex by the wrist. Staggering backwards from his attack, she pulls the boy with her, the violent move sending both of them off balance.
With a primordial snarl Vorpal yanks the boy close as they fall together to the floor, a strong twist of her body sending him tumbling down first and herself ending up onto the top. Her iron grip of his wrist never falters, and she slams it down against the floor hard.
And there they suddenly halt, her sheer strength pinning him down, her chest heaving against his. Her breath is warm against his face, her messy white hair mingles with his frosty mane, the fire in her eyes is hot and scorching.
Several seconds pass before she speaks.
"Not bad", she gasps, and flashes him a slanted smile. "Shall we try that again?"
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- - Back to A Dance of Angels
