Stranger in A Strange Land (Sirii & Satu)

[Satu]

Bloody and sweet, Satu felt the suvai slip through the meat of Siiri’s hand. A wash of pleasure coursed through the Konti, until she realized the Myrian was using the embedded suvai to pull the weapon from her. Satu’s fingers strained, but her hold was tentative. Slowly and painfully, the weapon pulled away and was gone. Too late she understood her mistake. She was too close to the Myrian! Siiri pulled her in even closer. And she felt the shock of Siiri’s forehead collide with her nose. Pain! Blinding Pain! Sudden and surprising, Satu was knocked back; staggered by the force of it, her bare feet skidded in the dirt. Crimson blood gushed out, the bright red streamed down the curve of her lips and over her chin while large droplets spattered onto her lily chest. Against the white of her skin she looked even paler in contrast. She shook her head to clear the disorientation. “You may think to claim this round,” the Konti shrieked. “But I will not bow! Not to you, not to anyone!” Never Again! A part of her mind added. Confidence grew in her opponent and Rage fuelled its growth. Satu was losing ground! They were both bloody now. Satu’s face throbbed hurtfully, but the blood flow was slow; while Siiri’s numb hand still dripped lifeblood out at a faster pace. One arm to battle! A blessing, yes! But the loss of her suvai, that was at great cost to the Konti. Satu jumped to side, just barely avoiding Siiri’s kick. She lashed out with her hands to grab the foot, but she was seconds too slow. Her following punches and kicks also failed to land against the warrior. The Konti’s more defensive style of unarmed combat was not enough to prepare her to fight the hostile and more experienced Myrian. Satu was just able to dodge and deflect the taller warrior, but she had trouble landing blows against her. Satu had enough training to see it clearly; her opponent had more skill and experience. And even though her moves appeared rough and barbaric to Konti eyes, she was more effective in her attacks. The Konti’s fist flew out in a concentrated punch. Another moment her leg reached out to try and trip the warrior. Even as she made a grab later, Siiri seemed to counter every action Satu made. Siiri was good! Even without the use of one arm she was still a very effective fighter. Satu knew this internally, but she did not understand why the woman was so much better. What would the HeartSeer know of the dangerous lives of the Myrians? And with the Konti’s own peaceful upbringing, she would never guess at their herculean efforts to train and to stay alive in the unforgiving jungle. Satu fought with her suvai like a dancer, she was graceful and fluid as the waters. But her training in unarmed combat was used primarily for defensive stances and movements. Never one to be the aggressor, to lead or attack, it was only recently that she had begun to change her style to suit her newly aggressive tendencies. She watched her opponent carefully; each move, each attack. Calculating, she tried to learn and to judge what action would come next. Her preference had always been the whale bones, but now she began to wonder just how much she lacked of training in unarmed fighting. All around her, undercurrents of feeling trickled into her consciousness, building and growing. The pressure grew with it. Others watched, all around them. Satu turned and spun, and felt Surprise in their Hearts. So used to training on the Suvai practice floor, she did not notice them at first, though her HeartSense cried out in warning. In Taloba, the viewer’s emotions were potent things, undercurrents of a violent history, and a hatred of outsiders amassed within them. Darkness sang in the blood! Where their emotions ended and Siiri’s began, she was no longer sure. Where her own feelings began and ended, she was equally unaware. They fuelled her and excited her! She would never back down! Never let up! She found herself lost in the barbaric feelings! And she could no longer focus solely on her opponent! In a crouch, chest heaving, she circled Siiri, her own small fierceness matched her opponents suddenly. She became a wild thing, an unthinking beast driven only by the emotions around her. Rapid and reckless, she fed on each outburst of emotion as she tried harder to hold her own against her larger opponent. She would not show Weakness! She would not be used! She would not submit again! Beautiful and slippery from the blood, Satu wiped her broken and swollen nose with the back of her hand, flinging drops of crimson upon the ground. Then without thought or plan, she leapt wildly at Siiri screaming, a rare Konti curse upon her lips.

[Siiri]

Siiri's attack narrowly missed Satu as the Konti dodged to the side. The smaller woman immediately countered with a flurry of fists, ending with, in the Myrian's eyes, an awkward snap kick. Siiri parried the punches as best she could with her one good hand then just evaded the rest. The Konti may not have a Myrian's size, but her blows still hurt. Granted they were like stinging bites from an insect as compared to what damage Siiri could do if she connected just once. Still, given enough bites, a swamp mosquito could succumb a giant, as the saying went.

And so for the first few passes, Siiri went on the defensive, allowing Satu to continue with her attack, letting her expend energies in pressing the advantage she perceived she had. The Konti must think she still held the upper hand as she darted in and out of Siiri's range to try to inflict her stinging blows, though all of it were blocked, dodged, countered or stuffed by her opponent. Despite this, Siiri could still see the confidence in the woman's face, but there was a new quality to it. There was panic, no, desperation in Satu's movements now. She wanted badly to win – needed to! The Konti moved as if she needed to prove something, whether to those around her or to herself, Siiri was not sure. All she could tell was that Satu would not submit.

How alike we are, Konti, Siiri thought grimly. But you will not be victorious this day. Not over me.

She got her own attacks in, despite being handicapped by her numb arm. The amount of blood dripping from the open wound was worrisome but she ignored it, focusing solely on the fight. As the useless arm tended to unbalance her when she attacked with her left leg, Siiri concentrated in using her right to deal damage to the Konti, inflicting savage kicks on Satu's left side. Large, angry red welts already appeared on the pale skin of the woman's thighs and arms and she could only imagine the bruises on her torso. And still Satu remained standing! Siiri did not know if her resiliency was due to some physical hardiness of the Konti people or the woman's own will and stubbornness to kept herself upright. She knew she could not keep the fight too long because of her wounds. Already she could feel herself grow weak by the minute.

An opportunity presented itself when Satu, frustrated herself now that the battle was not going to her favor any more, leaped at her to throw some flying kick or areal punch. The attack connected – there was really no way for Siiri to avoid it if she wanted to get her own attack in – hitting her on the left side. Her fist swung towards the Konti's head as the woman descended but her numb arm, thrown in the opposite direction upon the initial impact of Satu's blow, unbalanced her, blotching her aim. Whether by the Konti's design or sheer luck, Siiri found herself open to her opponent's counterattack.

Again.

Siiri braced herself for the blows she knew would come.

SatuHope you don't mind I assumed Satu was going to throw some form of attack when she leaped at Siiri. ^-^

[Satu]

Siiri’s fist flew towards the Konti and glanced off her temple as she landed. The full force of the blow missed her due to Siiri’s imbalance by her useless arm, but even a glancing blow by the Myrian was felt intensely. Dizziness washed over Satu, but she was already committed in her attack and kicked out her left leg at the knee, in an attempt to connect with Siiri’s thigh and hobble her. Staggering, the Konti landed to the side and a little behind Siiri. Strands of white hair stuck to her sweaty face as she spun to face the warrior woman. A slow panic showed in her movements as she fought hard to hold her own against the wounded, yet more experienced Myrian. They were both tiring; Satu could sense the fatigue in her opponent as much as she felt it in her own bones and bruises. The entire left side of her body felt raw and painful, and her nose and eyes filled with swollen fire. Had she ever been so tired, or bruised? Time stopped at the question. Panic rose! A sudden tremor gripped her Heart and climbed into her throat. She had been tired. And bruised. Before. She looked at her hands, now held before her in readiness for Siiri’s next move, and the HeartSeer saw a vision of her wrists, torn and bloody. Who had done that? Was it Siiri! The tremor rose higher. Times and places intermingled in her mind, confusing her as to who and where she fought. So many of them! So many! Where was her suvai? They had taken it! Siiri had taken her suvai! Wrath erupted in her gaze, and flowed freely, without constraint into her next attack. Fury filled her punches, and ferocity energized her kicks as she weaved and danced, but her efforts failed to land. Sirii’s next attack hit her so hard she half spun about, and barely managed to hold her feet. The pain only multiplied, as the blow landed on top of her already bruised skin. It was hard to see, the Konti’s face was now covered completely in matted and sweaty hair, but looking down she saw that blood from her nose now covered her torso. Blood was everywhere. Blood covered her! Her mind jumped again. The guard had bled heavily over her after she stabbed him. But why wasn’t he dead? Hadn’t she killed him…? Was she to be immersed in his blood forever! She needed to see! In an attempt to wipe the concealing strands of hair away, she drew a blood spattered arm across her face. The pain was intense! But she had to see who stood against her. Siiri? The Konti was unsure, this woman seemed different somehow. “Deanna?” She whispered in Kontinese, eyes wide. “Deanna! You can not be here! You chose to stay there; I will not take that place for you! I will not go back! You can not change your MIND!” Her voice was hushed but adamant. She looked around her. Who were these strange people who wished to hurt her when she had done them no harm! It incensed and enraged her! She still spoke in her native tongue to Siiri, yet she forgot who she spoke with, “I am a peaceful Konti! You harass me for no reason!” She shrieked, “I would see you dead before I yield to you!” Many times she had said fighting words, but Satu needed to say them again, to make them real. To reassure a part of herself that she was indeed unwilling to bow ever again. Satu would fight, for as long as she needed to, but in her physical and emotional exhaustion, her focus was warped and changed. It would not take Siiri long to realize it.

[Siiri]

Siiri felt her fist connect to the side of Satu's head though it wasn't a solid shot and her opponent was merely staggered by it. The Konti took the opening left by her attack however, throwing a cheapshot kick at her left leg. It was aimed at the knee and, had it been powerful enough, would have popped her shin bone of its socket and hobbled her. But this was a mere Konti, a woman almost merely half her weight and the kick was easily blocked as Siiri raised the targeted leg to diffuse the force of the blow. Satu took the opportunity to sidestep behind her however, a move that surprised the Myrian. She guessed the smaller woman still followed attack patterns designed for her suvai, even though she was deprived of her whale bone weapons. Fighting habits were difficult to consciously ignore in the heat of the moment after all.

Still, Siir was still able to follow the Konti, orienting herself to face her a split second later. The Myrian, ever perceptive of the little details in her surroundings when fighting, noticed a slight shift in her opponent's demeanor. A glance at her eyes spoke volumes. Satu had an almost faraway look, as if she was seeing an environment different from where she currently was. Sapphire eyes darted about, as if seeing phantoms that brought turmoil to her being. There was panic and confusion in the Konti's face now, mixed with indignant fury. There was a faint trace of fear as well, where there was only supreme confidence before. That Satu was insane, there was no doubt in her mind, but what had so unhinged this woman that would so unpredictably rob her of lucidity? The change must surely have been fairly recent. Siiri could only wonder at the back of her head.

The Myrian never had time to ponder the question too deeply for Satu had lunged at her again, her attacks wild and uncontrollable, so unlike the first few minutes of their initial exchange. Siiri easily blocked or avoided the undisciplined strikes, almost as if she could see them coming a mile away. She knew she had to tend their little tussle, which had blown up into full combat, soon and with finality. A savage kick connected against Satu's kidney, Siiri digging her shin deep into the smaller woman's side. She half expected the other to fall, broken and defeated by the strength behind the blow, but Satu had braced against it, though she seemed winded and near collapse. Just a couple of hits more...

The Konti spoke then, in a language Siiri could not understand, and she thought at first that Satu was casting some sort of spell over her. But it was merely words directed to the phantoms only she could see. Siiri thought she heard a name in the alien language but she could not comprehend who it was for. Satu was addressing her but she appeared to be talking to someone other than Siiri.

Crazy, insane woman!

The Konti's words came out forceful, determined – like a captive's voice would finding freedom before her yet with one obstacle remaining in the way – yet it seemed to be aimed for a different time, a different place. She was shaking, in both exhausion and fury. Siiri could see that Satu's mind hand completely left the present and was lost somewhere in the past. She needed to end the fight now, and here the Konti was, leaving an opening as glaring as any. Did she dare take it?

No guts, no glory.

Siiri was all for glory.

This woman needs to shut up, now!

Siiri's lead foot slid forward to bring her closer to Satu and her back foot lashed forward, her hips swiveling towards the direction of her target, adding more force into her attack. Her foot connected solidly on the side of Satu's head, the impact of it blowing the smaller woman away. She could see the Konti's eyes roll up in their sockets even before her pale-white body hit the ground. Caught up in the moment, sensing the kill was near, Siiri still charged at the downed woman, straddling her. Her lips drawn back into a feral grimace, Siiri's hardened fist came up and descended at break-neck speed to connect against Satu's head.

The Myrian caught sight of the Konti's face then and time seemed to stop.

She seemed so serene, so peaceful. It was a glimpse at the woman's true self, the identity buried beneath all the madness. Siiri knew the Konti then, a fellow fighter, a fellow warrior. But unlike her, who dealt with death and destruction out of both choice and necessity, this one seemed forcibly thrust into such a world and her mind, unable to bear the strain of such a shift, broke somewhere along the way. She was not hone and sharped and forged into a sturdy blade like Siiri, or any Myrian warrior for that matter, had been. They were constantly tried and tested in their everyday life, but this one knew not how to live such a life. Not yet anyway. It seemed her keeper, Oni, had seen something in the Konti the Siiri had missed upon their meeting. She could not judge if she could not glean something from the deyhan, yet her betters could. She was in no position to do so.

Time resumed and Siiri's fist stopped mere inches from Satu's face. The adrenaline had passed and all rage and anger she had initially felt at this big-mouthed outsider had left her now as she stared at the fallen Konti, seemingly small and frail-looking now yet peaceful in her forced slumber. Siiri brushed away the silver strands, matted with blood now, plastered against the woman's face.

Warrior, then.

Perhaps this blade could yet be reforged. It was not her place to judge. Perhaps she would just be fuel to feed the fire that would share this broken weapon then. Siiri stood up then, staggering as she felt the full weight of her injuries now that she had calmed down and the battle lust had left her. A small crowd had gathered around them now, though the fight had already been concluded and she had come out on top. She gazed at Satu once more then at the myriad faces around her. She needed to find Oni, return this broken weapon. Perhaps the higher ranked Myrian would be the one to forge this particular blade, or perhaps she would merely the outsider to her path to become whole again. She stooped and, with one hand, pulled the unconscious Satu upon her shoulders. Her world spun, both from the effect of the Konti's weight on her as well as the loss of blood she had suffere, but she shook her head. She needed to find Oni. The crowd seemed to glean her intent and they parted, only to reveal who she had been looking for at. Oni stood at the edge of the crowd, perhaps having watched everything that had transpired.

Siiri approached the taller Myrian then, stumbling on occasion. No one made a move to assist her. No request for help would escape her lips anyway. Eventually, he reached the other Myrian in what seemed like forever, though in truth was actually just a couple of seconds, passing the now slumber Satu into Oni's waiting arms.

“A worthy find,” was all she was able to mumble before collapsing herself. Spent from both the fight and the severity of her wounds, Siiri succumbed to the soothing embrace of oblivion, falling backwards into unconsciousness. She did not even realize it when her head hit the soft earth.

-Fin-

Cayenne :

I know our posts seem to overlap onto each other but there was open communication between Satu and me so any manipulation of our characters by the other have been totally cleared between the two of us. Just so we can give a better story for everyone. ^^

[Satu]

[Cayenne]

One word: wow. That was fantastic, and a great read. I really like Satu's warped and twisted perception, and Siiri's loyalty and determination with regards to the Myrian way of life is strong and unwavering. Great thread, both of you. I hereby award the following: Satu Rhetoric - 4 XP Interrogation - 2 XP Leadership - 1 XP Philosophy - 2 XP Suvai - 4 XP Dual Wield - Suvai - 3 XP Unarmed Combat - 3 XP Lore: Myrian Man-Eating Tendencies Lore: Myrian Determination Siiri Wilderness Survival - 1 XP Observation - 2 XP Interrogation - 2 XP Intimidation - 3 XP Rhetoric - 2 XP Leadership - 1 XP Unarmed Combat - 5 XP Weaponry: Greatsword - 3 XP Lore: Internal Politics of the Snapping Jaws Clan Lore: Paralyzing Abilities of the Suvai