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turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-12-2020
Potent and lethal and irritated; a startling combination of movements and motions within the rush of the morning, within the slightest chill, any indication Torchline inclined towards seasonal alterations at all. She lived and breathed in the maneuvers across the sand, like dancing, her short swords striking at air and imaginary foes; sometimes growling her menace, sometimes arching in an unpredictable wake, coming across boundaries, lines, and tethers. Sometimes she pretended it was her uncle’s head she knocked askew or his gut she skewered; so god damned annoyed and irate with a man as equally stubborn as she. Too alike, too similar, too stupid.
Her eyes flickered to the pool, towards where she’d heard her sister’s chimes of laughter, to where ghosts had prevailed in the happenstance of anger, hostility, misunderstandings, and obstinance. She gave it a hardy glare, but nothing uttered or burst forth, so the unwinding of her motions chiseled, sculpted into the air. They still weren’t as familiar as her staff, or her preference towards the bow – but the youth had always been inherently drawn to any serrated edges, to any cast upon knives, to any collection and assortment of weaponry. Deigning to master them all wasn’t a mercurial whim – but a disastrous, treacherous inclination. No one would stop her.
Fangorn, ever the stalwart companion, rested against some of the warmer stones along the embankment, offering an occasional encouraging grumble of support, before slipping off into a residual slumber.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-13-2020
Torchline, a topic that had of late continuously made it's at the forefront of her mind. It'd been a nice respite during Longnight, but back then she'd felt guilty for leaving and the trip had been blemished by the grief surrounding it. Torchline hadn't been all she'd hoped, and for a while she hadn't given it much more thought. Now that moving was on her mind, she'd pondered both Torchline and Halo with a lot more seriousness.
Today she'd drifted from the manor and to the spire, down to it's portal and to the tropical climate of Torchline. The swordsman found herself walking along the shore of the ocean for quite some time, passing all the various landmarks but with a different perspective. The ocean was beautiful when the sun was bright, when it didn't reflect the souls of those she couldn't save. The stars that week had brought her nothing but sadness, but the sun today brought her hope.
Up ahead she caught a glimmer of red in the expanse of golden sands and blue tides. She'd known quite a few red heads, but this one was too recognizable in her form and determination. She stood and watched for a moment, admiring her fellow warrior's abilities. The sword in her hand was well wielded, tempting and out of instinct Aisha had pulled her golden silk ribbon from her pocket and begun to tie her curls away.
She made her way towards Melita, a friendly look on her face. [say]"Melita!"[/say] she called, offering a light wave. [say]"Wanna go?"[/say] she asked, hand moving to rest gently at the shimmering hilt of her sword.
RE: turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-13-2020
A swish, a flick, a jab, a stab; reeling notions of piercing connotations that might’ve been pinpointed in reality, had she had a tangible opponent. But there was no mortal enemy here, no Kiada to bind and burn, no ghost whale to harken over and maul; just the infinite sun, waves, sand, and pool, a comfortable retreat into the quiet, into the maneuvering of her blade.
Save for a voice carrying over the wind.
Her sharpened eyes flickered, caustic and treacherous, riveting towards sources, uncertain of who called her name along the reaches of embankments and capricious breezes. It took more than a few moments for her mind to catch up with distant hazes of memories and recollections, where seasons cycled into undulations of ships, rather than the broadened reach of the Grounds. The familiar golden locks eventually clambered together in the pockets of her skull, and she could recall, retain, the spirited instances of Aisha and her cutlass – instantly a welcome surprise.
The inclination of her features towards irritation immediately drifted away, mercurial and capricious, driven straight back into amusements and the art of danger. The other woman had been plenty skilled in her craft; it would’ve been foolish for Melita to pass up the opportunity. And while she was prone to embedding herself in exactly those confines, it wasn’t within the realms of learning armaments and weaponry. [say]“Aisha!”[/say] She called in return, a wave as she approached and advanced; Fangorn opening one eye before deciding not to bother. [say]“Absolutely! I’ll take any pointers you have!”[/say] A reunion of might and will and spirit then – brandishing her sword once more, allowing for the potential of siege and defense.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-13-2020
It felt good to be welcomed, to find a familiar face so far from what she was accustomed to. She continued her pace until she reached her fellow warrior, her gaze shifting to the vampire gourd for a moment as it considered her and decided not to bother. She'd smashed quite a few of his vicious brethren recently, even if he took no interest in her it was a welcome change to not have to worry about sharpened teeth and raptorial conspiracies.
She returned her attention to Melita, her sparring partner for the time being. The younger woman looked good, not scarred or beaten by the past months. Aisha was always thankful to find a friend in good health, too often here that'd not been the case. Her suggestion was met with enthusiasm and agreement, and a prickle of excitement nipped at her skin. Her fingers curled around the burnished gold of her weapon, pulling it from it's sheath and giving it a quick twirl.
Balanced and ready, Aisha replied, [say]"I can't imagine you need many,"[/say] a compliment, fighter to fighter. She inhaled a deep breath, proud chest rising and falling as the air flowed through her body and out. Calm filled her, soothing and cool against her tongue as it swept down and through her blood stream. Muscles relaxed and posture taken, she was ready to begin.
She gave her opponent a slight nod, a signal of her preparedness, then she pressed forward; heels digging into the bed of rock and pushing her onto the balls of her feet. The sword leads in this dance, her body is pulled along like a chain. She is an extension of the blade, simply the support it needs to fulfill it's machinations. Her strong stance follows the thrust, digging in with her form prepared for the counter and the point of her sword is aimed for the air by Melita's side. She wouldn't chance actually causing damage, but she would encourage defense, retaliation.
RE: turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-13-2020
It was kind of Aisha to say, but the youth knew she was the most inexperienced in regards to swordplay. The staff and bow were ranges of competence, skilled from childhood until now, where her bare feet rested into the sand, calves stretched to ground herself into their pinnacles. A smirk was all Melita would extend thereafter – for then there was the art of the dance, of the frames and figures of potential lethality, of disastrous mayhem exuded amidst intricate movements.
Aisha’s were far more at ease, comfortable, as if she’d been born with the blade in her hand. Melita had been thrust into sand and fire, and while the movements weren’t intrinsic, she’d blended them into her everyday notions and motions, so eventually they’d become her own form of walking, of pacing, of striding, of binding, until each step was a promise. Perhaps of bloodshed. Perhaps of abominations. Perhaps of danger. Perhaps of treachery. Perhaps none of them at all, and the world would be none the wiser until it was too late.
Her eyes watched and followed Aisha’s maneuvers, seeking to billow like embers, like stoked fires, like conflagrations after a kindled wind – raising her own sword to catch at Aisha’s, to repel and recoil and snag lest it come arcing into her side. It snagged on the edges, on the fringes, mettle against metal, metal upon metal, and the snicker shined through.
To which she responded with an eager twist of her pommel, intending to notch the hilt down over the precision of Aisha’s munition, to seethe and sear enough strength to knock the weapon askew, out of her grasp, or otherwise make it unwieldly.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-16-2020
Her fellow fiery spirit and form watched her as she moved, and with a well trained eye Melita parried her strike. If she were a beginner, untrained in the art as she was, that maneuver would've sent her sword skittering across the shimmering stone of the pool. But Aisha saw Melita's plan and flowed with it, slacking her wrist and letting her sword swing away while still in her grasp. She took a few steps back, regaining her posture and resetting her grip on the hilt.
[say]"See, what I mean?"[/say] she quirked a brow with a playful tilt, commenting in regards to Melita needing pointers. Whether or not the other woman was dedicated to swords specifically, the foundations were there. Let's see just how far, she thought, digging in to the ground and launching forward for her second tirade of steel. This time she presented more than just brute strength, but agility, swirling around herself to pick up momentum before swiping out at her foe, keeping relatively low to the ground to keep her base sturdy and structure.
RE: turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-16-2020
The honeybee hadn’t believed the plan would work, not with Aisha’s notable skills and experience, but it’d been worth the efforts, the trial, of instigating some other heathen notions. Her grin ignited, inspired, instigated, stoking on the playful harmony of maneuvering blades and potential ruin.
Aisha gained in speed now though, and the youth swiveled, turned, and twisted, engaging her sword towards the lower sanction, catching once more, feeling the reverberations segmenting through her arm. Okay, she murmured to herself, an inward trace. I’ll show you. Then the little flame inhaled, exhaled, a sharp nuance, a growth of intellect, far more than just her usual impulsive, inherent dance. Strength in her grounding measures, in years of instilling fortitude and might, exuded her chance, her opportunity, her attempts, to push and lift back on Aisha’s munition, intending to force her upwards, wanting for her to no longer be in complete control of her own weapon.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-17-2020
No. Aisha would not relinquish control to a counter of all things, and as her steel clashed against Melita's she saw the shift in the other, the intake and issuance of her next ambition. Aisha slackened the angle at which she held her weapon, swiveling it so that the she was now pressing against Melita's sword with the flat of her blade. Then with a diagonal pull she slid her sword from the catch, smoothly and with a confident fluidity.
They were still close, there was no time think. Only act, follow instinct, follow the sword. Gravity pulled it down and so down she went, then back around, twirling it in a vertical circle to rebound and strike down towards her opponent.
RE: turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-17-2020
Ah, her attempts had been a bit too brazen, and the seasoned warrior had seen through her maneuver. No matter; the youth regarded it with the same smirk, with the same grin, embedded and emboldened on the perilous, frenetic energy. Melita was a coiled spring, unfurling and daring to be unleashed, wild and stubborn and fierce, multitudes of pulsing, untamed spirit alive and well in her blood, in her ichor, in her bones. The whole assemblage was a challenge, and she dared and defied –
Aisha countered, though not as the honeybee might’ve expected. She was forced to raise her sword-arm high to catch at the descending arc, for her blade to reverberate in its expanse, gritting and baring her teeth. Then, on a whim, on a hunch, on mercurial designs, she shot it forward, intending to poke at ribcages or sides.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-18-2020
Their swords met each other again, the not so gentle kiss of battle, the hiss of metal on metal. Aisha had intended to slide her blade back once more, waiting for Melita to extend her arm and then add more pressure, trying to avert the thrust. This didn't go as planned, she'd slightly under estimated Melita's strength. Instead her sword slid off, not budging Melita's, and she was forced to stumble back a few steps. Damn, she snarled to herself, giving her sword arm a quick shake.
Then she was on the attack again, ever the offensive player, determined to get the fiery haired girl at her mercy. She started a stalk, circling Melita one foot after the other, eyeing her legs as though she planned to aim down. Then she stepped back in, thrusting her sword low before swinging it up, pommel first and the blade trailing behind it so that any strike inward would be easier to deflect. She sought to push back, force Melita to stumble as she had.
RE: turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-18-2020
Nate had told her, when they were along the boxing ring, to watch, to pay attention to movements, but not to let them trick her. Aisha began to circle, and the honeybee intended to do just that – striving to predict the angles, the measures, wondering if she’d be able to estimate where the strike or blow would come from, if the fellow warrior would give herself away. Her opponent’s eyes went to Melita’s limbs, and for half a second she thought to guard –
Ah, but a ruse.
The blade swung low but then swept upwards, catching Melita off-balance, and the fiery youth did indeed stumble back, gritting her teeth, and then shaking her head, thinking to laugh the situation off. She should’ve known better than to be conned so readily – and with a flurry of motion, sought to remove and relegate the situation back into her favor. Fierce and forceful now, Melita reached out with her sword at a bizarre angle, changing trajectories at the last moment, so the movements were swift and kick, lunging for ribs again.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-20-2020
There, the satisfying stumbling sound of boots against stone, her attack was successful. Now they were even, Aisha grinned to the other woman but only for a moment as the battle continued. She noticed the drive behind Melita's next move and chose to combat it sinuous and serpentine. The opposing sword lunged for her ribs, a vie that would not be seen through. Her own weapon brought close and up to parry, once again their swords met and snarled into each other's foil.
And then she was continuing, a fluid movement from the parry, driving her sword in and around, hoping to catch Melita's and bring it down with a circular motion. To disarm her fellow warrior, and reach victory.
RE: turn you into ruins - Melita - 11-20-2020
Neither appeared to be completely outdone or overmatched, and it was satisfying to the youth; not adversaries, not enemies, nothing written in blood, stone, or ilk, but a natural fluidity of warrior women, casting their abilities and sharing their potential, their prowess. Her sword’s lunge wasn’t effective – blocked – and so she sought to maneuver around again, interplay and change the positioning of their cutlass dance.
Aisha’s blade sought to persecute her own, to fling it off and out of her hands, but the youth saw it, strove for the same semblance of motions in another interval. She caught the other sword once more – smirking, snickering, laughing into the flames – and then swept it upwards, out of the grasp, out of the waves of assault. Thereafter, she intended to drive her pommel once more – but not into Aisha’s weapon, but towards the other woman’s wrist – hoping, waiting, attempting for her to drop the armament.
RE: turn you into ruins - Aisha - 11-22-2020
Satisfying indeed, Aisha loved the way they could flow so easily through the motions. Melita's impeccable general battle training paired with Aisha's specialized sword wielding had them pretty evenly spread. She was sure that if she was without her sword she would need to lean on her shifts if she expected to do much damage against Melita, the red headed woman was a worthy opponent.
Melita held her ground against Aisha's maneuver, the snaking of her blade caught to a halt. Gratifying, to be so thrillingly matched. Aisha accepted the recoil, pulling back from the clash and preparing to retaliate over her foe's next move. This was the segment of the battle she cherished the most, when tension was high and they stayed close together; constantly on guard, constantly on offense. Melita thrust for her wrist, and Aisha stepped forward and to the side while withdrawing her arm so that their blades would meet instead.
From there she made a thrust for the other woman's side, hoping to force her away or catch her at a disadvantage.