Teaching dogs to sit

[Rista]

Timestamp: 11th of Fall Location: Somewhere in the Darniva Commonrooms Status: Closed, Solo A smell of sweat and concentration hung like a yellow cloud in the air. It stung the eyes, made it difficult to breathe. No one seemed to notice. The gazes of the crowd were fixed upon the pair that circled around each other at the center of the room, breaths held back and muscles tensed from excited patience. The fight was in its final stage, both participants tiring quickly now while the people around began to shift and long for an end to it all. The empty hands of the fighters were spread wide and held at ready, sweat gleamed over the muscled torso of the young men. Pale blue eyes had locked with vibrant green, the ember locks of both lay plastered against their foreheads; step after measured step brought them round and round, circling like starved mountain lions battling over prey. The room was dead quiet. A sandaled foot scraping over the stone floor made people flinch and twist where they stood, eyes turning to glare at the offender for a heartbeat, before they quickly returned to the youngsters. It wasn't worth missing the fight, not even for the pleasure of starting a new one. The move came without warning. Rista leaned forward with her mouth parted in a soundless gasp as she watched the green-eyed man slip forward in one fluid motion and launch a set of quick jabs at his opponent, almost too quickly to follow. Solid knuckles connected with flesh with meaty slaps, accompanied by grunts as the blue-eyes slipped back, almost doubling over from a punch in the gut. He had nowhere to escape though, the circle of Inarta around them pulled in closer and narrowed the combat area until his back almost brushed against the ones standing closest. The green-eyed fighter followed suit, fists launching in quick bursts towards the head and gut of his opponent. The other tried his best to defend himself, but as a last strike was dealt to the temple his blue eyes rolled back into the head and the knees buckled under him. Helpful hands from the crowd caught him and lowered him down to the floor, worried friends gathering around while others broke the invisible boundaries to circle the winner, who grinned at them in tired pride. Rista lingered for a while longer, but finally began to pull back from the crowd. Adrenalin pumped within and made it hard to keep her steps calm, the fight played out over and over before her inner vision. It had been an interesting one, albeit over a silly reason. Why did it matter who got to talk to which girl, and who were they to decide that? Even at the age of fourteen Rista couldn't grasp many of the social games her peers played, of status and possession and reputation. She was quite content as long as the others refrained from mentioning her heritage or appearance, and most especially as they simply left her alone. She didn't have a lot of faith in those her own age, and even less in the ones that were older. Young people overall could be a pain to deal with. The girl looked around as she eased herself through clusters of chatting people, her hand now and then reaching back to make sure that the sturdy dagger still sat tucked against her lower back, held in place by the waistband of her bryda. She had started to carry it around lately, but the weight of it still felt unusual and strange, and her fingers didn't want to leave it alone. There were mostly yasi in the room, along with some younger Chiet and Avora that had yet to fully develop the required attitude of their new ranks. She wasn't the youngest in the group, but as the fight was over many of the elder persons began to leave; childish or not, they still felt it below them to hang out and participate in the banter and mock fighting that was beginning among the younger kids. She wanted to leave the room too, but for other reasons. With the adrenaline pumping like this within her peers, it wouldn't take long before they started to look for someone to take it out on, willing or not. Rista wasn't in a mood for fighting, she had the severe beating from last time in fresh memory. She would follow the advice of her teacher to her best efforts - and right now that meant to retreat before there was a fight to avoid. She tried to pick up the pace a bit but regretted it quickly as the person in front of her suddenly stopped. A runt was heard as the mongrel smacked into a narrow back, and before she had time to apologize the half-breed girl found herself face to face with a yasi that was about one or two years younger. A clearly annoyed, hawk-eyed girl that suddenly flung her hands out and shoved Rista hard in the chest, enough to make her take a step back from the force. "Watch where you're going, dog" she snapped and spat on the stone floor before the dark-haired girl. "I don't want your drool on my back!" The face of the mongrel darkened, thin eyebrows lowering over the black gaze as she glared back, not standing down the slightest. "Bite your tongue" she replied and glared at the red-haired girl, the audacity of this younger kid making her both surprised and annoyed. This wasn't how the younger yasi normally treated her. "It's either my drool or my fist if you keep that attitude." Her fists clenched when the girl began to laugh instead of backing down. The color rose on her cheeks, and without hesitating Rista stepped in and aimed a punch at the face of the girl. It connected with her jaw, not very hard but enough to jar the surprised yasi and, more importantly, instantly shut her up. A sudden silence began to spread in the room, heads turning to see what this new fight was about. Interest turned into recognition once they found the black braids of the mongrel at the center of the attention, none overly surprised to see her in a fight. It was common occurrence, after all. "You little bitch" the ginger murmured and raised a hand to touch her jaw sorely, eyes flaring as she looked at Rista. "You hit me. You petching hit me, for no reason!" "You have a bad attitude" the black-haired girl said, a grim pleasure warming her guts as she stared back at the other yasi. "I suggest you change it, or I'll have to change it for you." Her awareness of the other people in the room was fluctuating, the faces of the red-heads fading only to be replaced by intent, foul and seething like a cloud of flies swarming around something dead. People kept streaming past, some only giving them a short glance before continuing, while others chose a spot somewhere to the side to watch what would happen. The amount of people in the room decreased until a mere handful remained; they, however, were thirty for more action and Rista could feel their eyes on her, eager for battle. None were friends of hers. "Stop joking around" the brat bit back and let the hand drop, instead resting on the hips in a pose that Rista realized were meant to mock her own. "You would teach me a lesson? I ain't listening to the barking of dogs, half-breed, and you can't make me do anything. Unlike you, I'm not a talentless dropout that can only swing my fists around. With a knife in hand, you wouldn't be a match against me." There was an arrogant confidence in her voice that bugged Rista more than the lack of fear on her face. She could accept a bratty younger yasi not being scared of her, it was even welcome for a change, but that attitude that claimed the brat to be better... oh, it was so hard to swallow. "With a knife of without one, I'll still beat you any time" Rista said. She regretted the words almost before they passed through her mouth, but didn't let it show, instead she lifted her chin higher, trying to make the girl back down with nothing but the pressure from her pitch-black eyes. She was granted with a look of unease, the gaze of the long-haired ginger flacked for a bit, but then a boy leaned forward over her shoulder and mumbled something in the ear while smirking at Rista. Whatever it was he said it made the eyes of the girl flare, and suddenly there wasn't a sign of hesitation or weakness on her face. "So do it then" the girl said and smirked tauntingly at the older, dark-skinned yasi. "Fight me, right here and now, and if you can take my knife away from me I'll admit that you're better than me." "I.." Rista swallowed the words that burned on her tongue and moved her gaze from the girl, instead letting it sweep across the room. There were a lot of people still there, watching and listening intently. She had been about to say that she didn't want to fight, but in this kind of place... That was the same as saying that she didn't have faith in herself, that she admitted to being weaker. It wouldn't do. What little respect Rista actually had among the yasi was due to her ability to fight herself out of trouble. While she was smaller than most she could usually manage to deal enough damage to make them think twice about going after her one on one, and when she was faced with more than one she didn't hesitate to call them cowards. Loosing a one on one fight... It was unthinkable, especially in a place where she would be Eagle-food as soon as they found the slightest of weakness in her. Not fighting wasn't an option. Why the petch had she opened her mouth for!? "You'll get hurt without doubt" she tried, the voice suddenly sounding grim and serious as she turned back to the other. She only vaguely realized that others were moving around them, creating a new circle with their bodies - an arena no more than six steps wide, narrow and uncomfortable. "I'm not afraid of pain, if that's what you're suggesting" the ginger retorted, the sneer on her face showing that she realized the predicament Rista was in. Damn her own petchin mouth, for being so easily opened. Maybe she should try and bite the tongue off, it would spare her some bruises. "Fine, have it your way then!" she barked without trying to hide her irritation. The whole situation left a bad taste in her mouth, there was a feeling in the air that caused the hair to stand on edge along her spine. It was a really bad idea to agree like this, but... She couldn't back down. Not now, not after all the things she had said. Her pride forbade it, as did the grim looking yasi that placed themselves in front of the door. Their arms lay crossed over the chests in a very determined way, and Rista understood the hint well enough to not even consider trying to leave the room. There would only be hell to have if she tried; only through winning this fight would she be able to leave. At least she hoped that winning would sate the blood lust of these people enough for her to escape. The yasi reached behind her back and pulled out the dagger from beneath her waistband, the movement as calm and measured as she could make it. The weight of the weapon seemed to increase as she unsheathed the gleaming blade and tossed the sheath at a red-blond girl, it dragged her hand towards the ground as if it wished for her to kneel and beg forgiveness. Maybe it was the wisest thing to do. The knife wasn't a weapon she was good at handling, and she was sure to bleed before this was over; even so, there was only hard determination within her gaze as she stepped forward, soft at the knees and with feet spread wide to find her center. She wasn't good at handling the knife, but perhaps she would be able to turn this into a situation where weapons weren't necessary. She was good at fighting with her fists, and she could use legs and speed as an advantage. And without doubt the girl was underestimating Rista, because of the differences in height and looks. Never judge the yasi by the color of her skin... "You're gonna regret this" the girl hissed and moved forward, the yellow gaze narrowed and seething with anger as they locked on the mongrel. A look at the womans stance and the comfortable grip she had of the knife almost made Rista give her right; if the other was as good at this as she seemed to be she would be in trouble. Actually, she was in trouble already, it was just a matter of danger levels at this point. "Shut up and fight" she said through gritted teeth. "I'm not letting you get away with this." The other girl shrugged and made a mocking grimace as she sunk into a stance, clearing a blade of her own before turning to Rista. The half-breed took a deep breath and shook her head, determined to push every unnecessary thought out of her mind. Black eyes fixed on the slender frame of the opponent, taking in her features and the flow of every step, every movement she made. The red-head was taller than Rista with about two hands, with thinner shoulders and somewhat long legs. The frail look probably didn't count for much, and she had a longer reach.. But the hair was hanging loose around her face which could prove a disadvantage, and as Rista began to move towards the side and forced the other to move along in a slow circle, she thought she might have caught a slight weakness in the right foot. She made a quick feint to the left and forward, right hand reaching out to measure a quick slash towards the knife hand of the girl; the other slipped back to avoid it and immediately countered with a lightning fast riposte that forced the mongrel to take a quick step back. Zulrav she was quick. But it seemed she was right, there was a weakness in the right leg, she seemed slower to react in that direction. Now to figure out how to use it. The silence was deafening in the room, tension thick enough to make feathers hover in mid air as the girls circled around one another. Slowly they worked closer to one another, intensity of their eyes increasing until the ginger exploded forward, aiming a wide slash towards Rista's torso. The mongrel jerked the left shoulder back and hissed as the tip of the knife slid over her skin, leaving a thin red line over the left breast before biting into the cover of the vinati. Ignoring the shock of contact and the knowledge that she had been hit, Rista stepped in and aimed a slash towards the waist of the other, hand moving from right to left just below the ribs before she pulled back again to get more space to move on. Too shallow, it hadn't connected; Rista sucked in air between her teeth, pushing away thoughts that wished to interfere. Focus. The ginger followed as she stepped back and thrust the knife forward, trying to stab the copper-skinned yasi in the gut. Face paling Rista turned sharply to the right, feeling perspiration break out on her skin. This was dangerous, the crazy girl was seriously trying to kill her. Blocking yet another jab towards her gut with the blade of her dagger, she aimed a kick towards the leg of the girl and broke off, turning so that she ended up behind her with more space behind the back. A heartbeat passed as the dark-haired girl regained her balance and moved in again, dealing a side-ways slash towards the upper arm of the other as the ginger was still turning. The mongrel felt a wave of nausea rush through her as she felt the dagger connect with flesh, steel biting and retreating with a thin line of blood coating the sharp edge. She had been right, it did take longer for the other to use the right leg both in supporting and giving speed... She wasn't happy over causing injury to the girl though. The trickle of blood that slipped down the pale arm made Rista feel guilty, her gaze locked on the injury and barely perceived how the opponent regained composure, turned and launched forward again. Only deeply rooted reflexes from many brawls made her react, causing her legs to push her backwards and away from the slash that was aimed to her gut. Once again metal licked on skin, deeper this time as blood rushed out, lending a new tint to the coppery skin. Jarred and with a numb feeling in her limbs Rista continued backwards, gasping as pain worked its way through the shock and made her mind reel. This wasn't fun. It was serious and dangerous and it wasn't fun in the slightest, she hated how she instinctively lashed out towards the girl again, blades clashing with a clear ring of metal against metal as the ginger blocked. Their eyes met, faces serious and sweaty and with nothing but determination showing on their features. Rista didn't want this, but she would be damned to ever back down. It was a cold, reluctant stubbornness that made her swallow the injuries, shove the fear of more pain out of her mind and go in again, knife handled clumsily but accompanied by a fast left fist and accompanying legs. Her vision felt blurry, she could barely see what she was doing. Her body registered how she pressed in close as the blades were still blocked and aimed a punch at the others gut, followed by a kick from the right leg. The ginger wobbled, Rista planted her feet solidly to the ground. She pressed harder, using the advantage of her heavier built to undermine the balance of the pale-skinned girl. One step, then another as she pressed forward and up, she could see a hint of surprise and uncertainty in the yellow eyes. Rista took another step forward, slipping her foot in behind the heel of the other before shoving herself onward, thrusting herself into the chest of the other while trying to stay clear of the daggers. The ginger staggered back as her foot was caught in the hindrance, arms flailing to help get her balance back and hair falling in front of her eyes. The connection of blades were lost, Rista pushed her right arm forward and felt the blade catch into the arm of the other, digging deep into the flesh before she retracted it. The hawk-eyed girl winced from pain, her grip on the knife loosening from the pain in the arm. The mongrel felt like she was moving in slow motion, risking another attack as she stepped in closer and punched down against the knife arm of the ginger. The knob on the handle of her knife struck at the injured limb, jarring it enough to make the fingers loose grip. The sound as the dagger connected with the stone floor rang like a bell in the room, leaving Rista in disbelief as she suddenly found herself standing with the tip of her knife aimed at the chest of the girl. She panted hard, hands trembling and the head spinning from shock and pain and the adrenaline that pumped through her body... Did she win? How the heck did she win, she hadn't expected that. Her arm fell as the girl took a few steps back; there need to raise her hand in defeat like that. Rista had no intentions on continuing this. She was tired, they were both bleeding and there was a nauseous feeling to her stomach that made her knees feel weak. Her hand shook faintly as she wiped off the dagger on her bryda, cleaning the blade off thoroughly to get rid of all the blood. It was a good excuse to not look up at the others in the room. It was an excellent way to hide that she wasn't as calm and confident as she should be, that the pain from the wound in her gut made her want to kneel and cry like a baby. She could hear the red-haired girl say something, but the words didn't register in her mind and Rista didn't care. She had won, she had proved herself and made her point clear. The knife was on the ground and not in her gut, it was what mattered. It was all she could do to straighten her back and give the ginger-haired girl a nod in acceptance of the resignation. She pushed herself to turn around and begin moving towards the door, only stopping to take back the dagger sheath. Rista barely noticed as she passed through the door and into the red light of the warrens, a hand pressed hard against the knife wound at her stomach. She had no idea how deep it was, but this time it might be best to not just brush it off. It was bleeding, and her head was feeling faint, and the knees felt weak too. There was a dazed look on her face as the short girl moved through the corridors, walking away from the fight and the victory as if they hadn't even happened.

[Indigo]

Character: Rista Skills: +1 Brawling, +2 Dagger, Lore: Stand your ground, Recognizing your own mortality, Notes:Very good descriptions of the physicality involved in brawling. I'd like to see more of what Rista's thinking and motivation is when she does get into so many fights. Be sure to add a year on your thread for easy categorizing on your CS. Excellent detailing of sight and sound; a good read! If you have any questions or comments about your grade, please don't hesitate to PM me.