Flashback skull face

[Cana]

summer 47th 509av ▼ skull face ▼ The Training Yards "Mother, you're killing me." She attempted to hide her scowl as she was forced to redo the section of the dance for the umpteenth time. "You need to get better. Try again." Again, Cana retraced the steps - a swing of the foot here, leap there, all culminating into the spin that would lead directly into the next part. But today, all she had been doing was this part. "Better, Cana. You are dismissed." She considered herself lucky. Most mothers wouldn't think twice about using a venom tongue on their daughters, but Kitpa was almost - nicer, gentler? - with her daughters. Not so much with the rest of the family. But her tone of voice didn't end the world, didn't affect the heat or humidity. Today was hot. It was one of the rare days that it wasn't raining, but extra humidity more than made up for it. Maybe it was the routine she had just been forced to go over and over, but Cana's skin glistened with sweat, even when she was wearing next to nothing. There was a large basin of water in the clan home. She splashed some on her face, arms, body, before pulling on her shift. It stuck to her sides from the water and sweat, but she didn't care. She patted the plain plait her hair was in, and satisfied, she grabbed her scythe from where it was leaning on the wall and went to go 'spar' with friends. Of course, by spar it meant gossip and dares and who should fight who. Sometimes there was sparring, but rarely between them. Her 'friends' were clumped around the training yard. They were less of friends and more of girls-near-her-age that had better things to do but didn't do them. Not to say they were lazy, but at this age it seemed more beneficial to group around and gossip about nothing than to actually train more than they already did. They all had their weapons of choice, anyways. Spears, swords, clubs, it didn't matter. The scythe was used rarely by anyone except the Dancing Dead. It symbolized Dira, and that was good enough for them. She dug dull edge of the scythe into the ground, leaning on it as the other girls talked about who they wanted to spar. To them, sparring someone was the same as declaring your love for them, but it only seemed to be in their little clique that it was seen that way. One of them, Niyo, mumbled something. "Ooh, what is it, Niyo?" They crowed and purred at her, like cats or parrots. "Well...I think Cana should spar Razkar." They giggled and laughed like a pack of hyenas. Cana just glared and rolled her eyes. "Not until a second Valterrian." More giggles. "You could totally take him, Cana!" A girl named Rinma chirped at her. More giggles. She giggled with them. She probably could take him. He was tall for a male, but that didn't mean anything. Any excuse to kick someone's arse. "I don't even think that madini is here."

[Razkar]

"Join the army, they said..."

"No-one said anything." Razkar muttered as the group of warriors walked under the archway leading out into the street. Baking, merciless sun beat down on them the second they left its shade, and a coating of sweat was already springing onto Razkar's brow. "The Goddess-Queen needs warriors, so we came. Everyone comes."

"You know what I mean."

They split up, smaller groups going here and there, to the trading square, the Tower of Bones, the plaza, even to their houses. But he and Tuva stayed together. The tall woman - long-haired, dark-eyed and with a tiger jaw tattooed across the bottom half of her jaw - turned to him and shook his head, not letting go of this.

"We're warriors. We're for fighting. We know where our enemies are, and all we do is patrol and train. It's not right-"

Razkar didn't slow or even look her way as they walked down the main thoroughfare. He did not want to waste time, walking with long strides and dread focus. Civilians, even females, veered out of his path, and he noticed none of them. Sweat began to run down his bare torso, gladius and hand ax clanking at his belt, leather shoes beating out a fast rhythm on the sand.

But, for all his fearsome appearance, he spoke with respect to the woman.

"Warrior's don't just battles. We train. We study the arts of war. We learn our lands to better use the terrain. We keep our bodies and minds in peak condition. We grow stronger and faster and harder and smarter with every sparring session."

"Third patrol without any blood." Tuva said with a snarl, barely hearing the male. "Have to sacrifice and petching goat again-"

"We do as Myri commands, mistress." Razkar said, coming to the training yards. A clutch of people were clustered around the entrance, females, young, tall, lithe and with more than a touch of the rebellious about them. "Content yourself with taking your frustrations out on me."

"Oh, believe me, I will-"

"Hey, Tuva!"

She stopped. He didn't, at least not for a few steps. Which meant she couldn't see him close his eyes briefly and sigh. He didn't need this distraction. These juveniles were becoming more and more irritating to him. Tuva, ever the antagonist, never let their snide or snark slide. They had better things to do, and bartering quips with boistrous females was not one of them.

He turned and saw Tuva squaring off with one of them. Rinma, if he recalled correctly. He crossed his arms and walked over, hoping this would be over quickly-

-and blinked in surprise when Tuva threw her head back and laughed.

"You what?!"

"Hey, I say she could!"

"Yeah, and next you'll make a Tskanna fly-" She pointed at Rinma, standing with her chin jutted out, then at another girl in the group, Niyo. "-and she'll turn into a petching Tiger, right before my eyes!"

Rinma stepped forward dangerously, full of the pumped-up hormones and braggadocio he recognized very well. Goddess, was he really that young, and so few years ago?

"Prove it!"

Tuva scoffed, snorted and jutted her head at Razkar. Oh, great, now he's being involved. "I ain't gotta prove nothing, skurak. He does."

Razkar stood there, calm and stoic and... staring. Damn it, why did he have to stare?!

Her features would have been delicate on any other face, but on a Myrian it was seductively misleading. No Myrian female worthy of the title would be described as "delicate", and men had lost their g'iib-tah for suggesting otherwise. But with that ink covering half her face, those piercing eyes and that attitude he should have been wary of.

Razkar had seen beautiful women. Had known that... heat. But this face? He always found himself looking back to it. His eyes would circle around a whole street or yard or room, but would always be pulled back for just one more look.

And now she was staring back. He blinked.

"Prove what?"

Rinma smirked and gripped the skull-faced girl's tattoo. She was a touch shorter than Rinma, a little broader, but she didn't even tremble as that big hand clapped on her upper body. And her eyes never wavered from Razkar's own...

"That you can't beat Cana here in a spar." She gestured to the long, curved scythe the girl leaned against, balanced ably on a weapon that was designed to be graceful and deadly but not as a pseduo-stool. "Unless you're scared, of course."

Tuva muttered something low and probably coarse under her breath, tapping Razkar on the shoulder as she stepped away from the little clique.

"C'mon, lets leave these kotakbil to it, we've got-"

"This is between me and Cana. We don't need others working our mouths for us."

Tuva knew that tone well enough not to push it. Razkar was a male, sure, but he was already getting something of a reputation among the garrison. He was supposedly a true fanatic, a male who lived for combat, in all its forms. Of course she'd seen him in the field, and the garrison and outside of it, and knew he bled and had bowel movements like everyone else... but...

She knew the tone. Her input was no longer required.

Razkar looked Cana up and down, just once. Lithe and athletic. Well-muscled, though, toned and firm. Well-practiced with that scythe, probably, and coldly eager to prove it. He sniffed lightly, black eyes boring into hers... and then he spoke.

"I don't want to hurt you. If we spar, I will. Your choice."

[Cana]

"Ma'khan'um! You couldn't hurt me if you tried." She called out, mockingly. She was awarded more laughter by the other girls. Tuva stalked away, cursing under her breath and leaving Razkar to fend off the group by himself. "Hey, Raaazzzkarrr, are you sure you don't want to spar me?" Niyo drew out his name and winked at him. She was playfully shoved out of the way by Rinma. "Nope, it's Cana's turn now." Cana already started running towards the training yards, turning around to beckon Razkar. "What, are you scared I'm going to ruin your big, bad reputation?" Rinma and Niyo called after them with Myrian animal calls, chirping and whistling like any jungle animal. "Go, go, fight, fight!" One of the other girls, Serwa, had already left, unnoticed, to go spar with another boy. With Cana's departure, they did notice and started giggling and whispering to each other. Cana stood across from Razkar. She knew how to hold a scythe, but she was teasing him. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, clutching the weapon, and her legs were bent all the way back instead of crouching slightly like she could have been. Mother would have reprimanded her for such bad form, but she was mocking, waiting for him to strike first.

[Razkar]

As you wish...

Rakar walked after the girl with the black braid bouncing behind her head, scythe bobbing in her hands as she went. The whoops and animal squeals got briefly quieter behind him, and then the sun blasted him again as he stepped into the training yard. A handful of other Myrians were sparring, grunts and clashing steel echoing around the sand-covered space.

She waited for him in the center of it. Loose grip on her weapon. Stiff stance. But her eyes? They were steady.

He took his ax out of his belt and tossed it away from the two of them. He stood there, his gladius in his right hand, rolling it around in his fist, getting a good grip on it. He cracked his neck, face impassive.

The male cocked an eyebrow. The female gave a tiny nod, and that was that.

Razkar lunged forwards and swung a horizontal blow at her side. His left hand stayed tucked at his side, elbow bent, closed into a fist-

-and when he closed the distance and she moved her weapon up to parry that obvious blow, that left fist would go crashing into her stomach.

[Cana]

The moment she noticed him gain his stance, she quickly got into hers. The proper version, at least. She wasn't tired from her hours of dancing earlier - it almost energized her more. She pulled up her scythe to block his blow, only realizing after her punched her in the stomach that he had made it too obvious to have been meant to hit her. Damn. Sh shook it off, only mildly wincing at the thought of the bruises that were going to be there. A day in Taloba would make it obvious why the Myrians were the strongest, most resourceful, and toughest in battle. Sparring was what people did when they were bored and Myri gave them the gift of being even better in battle than they already would have been. Made them faster, stronger, more powerful. But against another Myrian, it did little. Dancing had made her sleek and nimble, and she was damn well going to use it to her advantage. She was subconsciously adding dance moves to her attack, not just trying to hit him. No, she moved like a panther and attempted to bring the back of the scythe onto his head, which would move her into position to knee him in the g'iib-tah depending on how successful the attack was.

[Razkar]

A soon as that scythe started moving, Razkar cursed himself for not getting practice weapons. Even in the hands of a skilled warrior the massive, curved weapon was unpredictable. In everyone elses, well, you never knew what would happen.

But, he conceded quietly to himself, it also gave him an advantage.

Cana grunted but didn't buckle when he punched her, and his opinion of her went up a notch or two. She was quick, too, flitting from foot to foot and yet strong enough to wield that scythe with certainty.

And creatively.

It was not the blade that arced towards him, but the bottom of the long shaft it was attached to, sweeping towards his head from the side. Razkar ducked under is but she darted in close, knee coming up-

-Razkar grunted as he twisted his left thigh in front of her blow just in time, saving his crotch, the two of them now only inches apart-

-and bringing the flat of his gladius down onto the side of her left knee. She yelped out as he patella was knocked brutally in a direction it was not meant to go, but teeth gritted, eyes flaring, she spun and jumped out of his reach.

Razkar smiled grimly. The stinging wound on his thigh would be worth it for that blow. She wouldn't be so fast with her knee damaged. He held his gladius ready and they circled again, waiting for the next blows to be struck...

[Cana]

All holy Dira, that blow hurt. She didn't know what he did to her knee, but it hurt like hell. Mother would kill her if she couldn't do the routine the next day. Cana just gritted her teeth and hissed at him. "Shurak!" But maybe it was dancing that could help her move with minimal strain on her knee. She had missed her mark, but there was certainly a bruise forming on his thigh, and she moved her scythe to ram the handle into it. She stepped on his bare foot with her heel, hard. If she was wearing something more - boots, perhaps - it might have hurt, but this was also the foot on the same leg she just smashed her scythe into. Maybe she was feeling especially cruel today, because she decided to attempt and ram her knee into his g'iib-tah again.

[Razkar]

He grinned as she hissed the word at him, amused and excited in equal measure. This was more like it: get her riled, get her angry, and she'd either go down fast or become challenging.

As fate would have it, she chose the latter.

She lunged forward and Razkar saw just how fast she could be, even injured. That whack on the knee was already forgotten or just suppressed. Her teeth shone like a charging tiger and she swiped at his bruised thigh-

-only for his gladius to sweep down and block the blow-

-but giving her enough time to crunch her heel down on his foot.

He grunted and half-jumped, half-hopped backwards, and once again she tried to plant that knee of hers in his crotch. But her blow to his foot had sent him staggering back far enough for the jerking knee to just hit empty air. He lashed out, bringing the hilt of his gladius crashing down on her raised kneecap, making her cry out in pain.

Razkar grinned, reveling in his minor victory-

-and the flat side of the scythe, so long forgotten, smacked into the side of his head like a charging Tskanna.

[Cana]

She had almost forgotten about her knee, but at least her stumble ended up hitting him in the face. She grinned like Cheshire cat, licked her teeth, and stood on one foot. The other was bent, as if in pain. It was in a ton of pain and barely bearable, but that wasn't why she was standing on one foot. She watched him regain is footing and come back for another blow as she feigned distraction, until she lashed her foot out in the direction of his left thigh. Her knee was screaming but she ignored it with the adrenaline rush, attempting to hit Razkar with the back of the scythe again.

[Razkar]

He shouldn't have gotten angry. Such a prideful, immature mistake to make, but he made it.

Razkar spun away from the girl with his head ringing, vision blurred, gladius held in front of him until he found both his feet again. And when his eyes finally cleared, she was standing there on one foot, wounded, but grinning. Mocking him.

He snarled and lunged, never assuming she could be faking-

-and was rewarded with a vicious sharp in his bruised, aching knee for his hubris.

Razkar yelped, actually yelped in pain, left leg going numb for precious moments. The shaft of Cana's scythe swept round, aiming for his side-

Enough.

-blocking the blow with his gladius, blade trembling vertically as it stopped the shaft dead, left hand flashing out to grab the shaft of the scythe in the middle, barely a foot from where she held it from her face-

-and jerked it savagely into her exposed jaw.