Training it's a different kind of danger
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#15
Amalia
None of this makes sense. Roana continues to spout some nonsense about offering herself as tribute, as though Amalia asked to hit her, as though the girl has ever expressed a desire for violence toward the woman. "You think if I beat you up I won't be angry?" That isn't how it works. Mistakes are not absolved through violence; Amalia cannot strike the past away.

But oh, how she would like to. Roana tumbles to her knees, and Amalia watches with intensifying anger, still perturbed by the soldier's unwillingness to so much as defend. Her frown is a snarl, weary and inflamed. "I. Do. Not. Want. Anything. From. You." Each word is punctuated with a prod on the shoulder, gentle but firm from the end of her staff, butting on the already struck limb. "You are the one who approached me. I never - never - wanted anything to do with you. I still don't." Is this what it is like for Delah, having her push and push and push, insist on a bridge that the warchief does not wish to build? If so, it is exhausting- and perhaps Amalia can begin to understand the Fae a little more.
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
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#16
”I know it won’t fix everything, or anything even.” Roana said, feeling desperation begin to creep up. ”But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how else to make recompense. I don’t know how else to even the field so we can all move forward.” She was at a loss. She was grasping at straws, anything that might help the situation, anything that might allow the past to live in the past.

Each shove on her shoulder hurt, more because of the previous whack she received than the force of the current blows. She winced, gritting her teeth as her shoulder was repeatedly shoved forward. ”You’re right. I did approach you. I want to make amends, I truly do. But at this point I don’t know another way.” she said with a sigh. ”I am sorry. I acted in haste, and in grief, and I shouldn’t have. I had lost my only friend in this place that day and I was intent on not letting anything stand in my way of fulfilling his dying wish to me.” she said, swallowing a hard lump in her throat, daring to glance back at the other woman. ”Just as you are so angry with me for hurting Rory.” That sort of anger could be blinding.

But she should have been better than that. Even if she still thought bringing down the barrier ultimately needed to happen, she still could have done better.

”It isn’t an excuse. It is just a fact. I am, truly sorry.” she said quietly.
Roana
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#17
Amalia
If she wants to make amends, she has a strange way of going about it. Amalia glares down at the woman, listening through flattened leopard ears as Roana makes her case. Something within her shifts a little, not soft, not forgiving, but maybe understanding, a glimmer of empathy beneath the rage. Amalia knows what it is like to feel lost, to be a bundle of contradicting mistakes and not know her place in a changing world. She knows what it is to be lonely, and grieving, and to lash out at the world because of her pain.

But Amalia is not Roana. She has struggled, and fought, and stumbled, and grown. No longer the orphan who lives in the library, she has opened a bakery, summoned the Spark Bird, stood before the Spire, stepped beyond her cage. She has become bigger through her trauma, not smaller: and as the proud woman kneels before her, she knows what she must do. Kneeling down to stare into Roana's face, she does not smile, but her expression becomes something less than pure fury, hard and worn in the afternoon light. "Your intentions mean nothing," she says, not unkindly, but as a statement of fact. "Your actions do. You think you're some great villain of our mythos, that we misunderstand and revile you, but the truth is you don't matter. You are not the only one responsible for the things that happened. The spire being breached, the Voice escaping, the blight that is now threatening the forest beyond- that is the responsibility of all of us. Everyone who let the New Gods win. Including me."

Rising wearily, Amalia reaches out once more with her staff, pushing it beneath the woman's chin in an attempt to force her to meet her gaze. "You want to be better? Then do. Contribute something. Learn. Don't live your life as a tired martyr, demanding that that strangers beat the crap out of you because you're too afraid to actually do the work. I don't give a shit about your guilt. I will not absolve you. You want to make amends? Do it."
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
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#18
Roana’s lips tightened into a thin line as the woman knelt and began her tirade. It seemed the blame was more widespread than she had made it appear, including herself amongst those at fault for releasing the Voice. She listens quietly, intently, tucking each bit of information away in her mind, neatly organizing it so it could be used. When? And for what? She did not know yet. But when such an occasion arose, she would be ready.

”Do it.”

A smirk curved the former captain’s lips as she gazed up at the woman, a short laugh parting them. Do. Roana was a doer. The challenge given was one she could meet, and would do so readily. ”Let me demonstrate what I have to contribute then.” she said. As soon as the words left her lips she was in action, grabbing at the staff the woman held to tug it forward with all her might to toss her to the side, standing in the same, fluid motion. The hits she had already endured may as well have not happened. Upon standing, Roana took a fighting stance, eyes trained on the woman. ”War is what I know, and this all started with a war – isn’t that right? Between the Voice and the other gods? Trapping her in the barrier is what we, those who have studied the function of war, call a last-ditch effort.” she said, before reaching forward to strike at the woman with a right hook.

”So since the barrier fell, I have been looking for a way to bring an end to it all. If the Voice can’t be killed, she must be harnessed and controlled by the other gods. I’ve spoken with Ronin about bringing it up to Safrin, since he is the only one I know with as close a connection to her, and been scouring the Athenaeum for any shred of information I can find. How does that sound to you?”
Roana
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#19
Amalia
She is ready for this to be over, to turn and escape the woman's self-flagellation, to have no part in this bizarre play. The base of her staff drops swiftly down, leaving Roana's chin exposed. Sighing, Amalia half-turns away, tired from fury she doesn't know how to sustain. She has said her piece, and more than that. She is done. This is done.

Except that it isn't. Amalia is surprised when Roana stands, the warrior woman's voice calling out to her back. A frown on her face, she turns back to the woman- only to find hands locked on her staff, tugging it suddenly out of her grasp. "Hey!" she exclaims, more shocked than angry, her dark eyes following the stick onto the ground. The latest tirade barely registers in her mind; she is too stunned by this bizarre turn of events.

What does register is Roana's swing. More through instinct than any skill, Amalia raises her arms in defense, catching the blow between crossed wrists.  "Ow!" The strength behind it is unsurprising: the other woman is muscular and built, clearly a fighter where the baker is not. Amalia drops her hands at once, wincing at the bruise she is sure will form.

Roana continues speaking, announcing that she has read, and spoken to Ronin, and so on. "And what have you learned?" she asks, half legitimately curious, half aching to hear what new line of nonsense the soldier is going to spit.
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
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#20
Roana grabbed and tossed the staff back to Amalia, unimpressed with how easily she could disarm the woman and feeling only a bit sorry for punching her as hard as she did. She was sick and tired of everyone treating her like a villain, stalking the night, waiting to destroy them all. Her goal couldn’t be more opposite – she wanted people to thrive and would do all she could to help make it happen. Why could they not leave past mistakes in the past and move forward?

With Amalia re-armed, she goes on the offensive again, keeping her claymore sheathed on her hip. She throws a series of quick jabs near her torso, finishing it up with a quick kick at her ankles to try and knock her down.

”Nothing really.” Roana answered, her frustration clear in her tone. ”There seems to be no record of her weaknesses, barely any record of her at all. And since no one wants to talk to me, it makes it very difficult to come up with any kind of plan.” She huffed, brows furrowing. ”So now all I have is trying to make myself prepared to fight a bunch of Ascended and hope the gods will be willing to assist. Unless you have other ideas you’d be willing to share?”
Roana
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#21
Amalia
Maybe Amalia would not have been disarmed if she'd anticipate the attack. Maybe she still would. It does not particularly matter, in the end. The baker catches her staff easily, taking it defensively between her fists. Now wary, she eyes Roana, at ready to counter an incoming attack. Fortunately the taller woman does not grab her sword, instead opting to swing again with fists. Amalia tenses her stomach against it, jaw clenched, hardening her muscles against the onslaught while swinging back in with her staff, aiming for the already injured shoulder. As she swings she steps away, leaping to narrowly avoid Roana's kick while retaliating with a sweep of her staff up and in toward the woman's knees.

"Who did you try to talk to?" she asks, curious to know who this 'no one' entails, how much action is behind her hot air. Not that Amalia has done much more- but she makes no promises to that effect, does not claim superiority or skill. She is not infringing and apologizing, picking fights while wreathed in self defense. Still, she cannot help but be interested now that Roana is finally telling her things, information instead of thrown out shields, showing that perhaps she does indeed have some potential for growth and change.
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
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#22
Roana saw the staff swinging towards her shoulder, ducking under it in just the nick of time. She could have easily taken the hit but she didn’t exactly want to. Clearly, Amalia wanted an actual bout, not just to air her frustrations on her so she wasn’t going to take more hits than necessary now. The sweep of her staff was a good follow up to her missed kick, but she didn’t dodge. She stuck a hand in the way, catching the end of he staff in a strong grip and tugging once again to see if she could disarm her a second time.

”I don’t know many names.” she admitted. ”Most react to me like you did, making it clear I am not wanted.” she said with a frown. ”So I’ve been trying to figure it all out on my own.” There was a hint of sadness in her tone. Remorse. All intermingled with the frustration. It was a lonely existence being hated.
Roana
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
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#23
Amalia
This time Amalia anticipates the grab, keeping hold of her staff and shoving it forward to try and catch the captain off-balance. She is growing weary with this fight, long since tired of Roana's obstinance, her insistence that she is the martyr in this play. Tilting her head, she scowls again at the idea of people acting like you did, as though Amalia's dislike of the captain was somehow less than warranted. Sighing slightly, she takes a step back, hoping to take her staff with her but with hands raised empty if Roana has not let go.

"It sounds like you have your work cut out." It isn't sarcastic or cruel, just tired, a statement of observation. Pulling her arms across her chest, the baker turns to walk away, no longer possessing the bandwidth to manage this conversation. Only as she turns does she pause, looking halfway over his shoulder, a quiet olive branch extended. "If you find something... I'm usually at the bakery, or the Antheneum."
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
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#24
She could scowl all she wanted. It was what it was. She was disdained, and it made things difficult. Not just for her, but everyone else. The divide was causing more problems than good - if only someone would give her a chance to prove herself; to prove that she wasn't as horrible and evil as they all imagined her. Roana would not be caught off balance though, her stance firmly rooted in the ground, her torso twisting to accommodate the shove of the staff. But she did not try to pull it from Amalia's grasp more. The woman held tight to it still, and so the former captain relinquished it.

Her words were what caught her off guard. Roana stared, openly, blinking slowly as her brain struggled to process it. Unlike before, her voice held no malice, no anger - just a familiar exhaustion. Perhaps wearing her down had been the best course after all. A tiny, ghost of a smile curved her lips and she nodded. "Of course, you will be the first I notify." she promised, giving a slight bow to the woman at the shoulders. It wasn't much, but it was something, a tiny sliver of hope that perhaps these things could be patched up, and resolved.

{END}
Roana
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on


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