Resolution (Satu)

[Siiri]

Timestamp: 70th of Summer, 510 AV
Location: Training Grounds

Siiri had packed her things and had said her goodbyes - to those who mattered anyway. Last minute orders were given to her fangmates, the quartet she always went on patrol with: Garou, Amir, Onna and Kai. Except for Amir, the others had taken her leaving good-naturedly, some teasing about having some 'alone time with yer wolf' coming from Garou, though of course Siiri expected that from the man. She could not deny that she was looking forward to that, however.

Her bondmate, Miharu, she had left in the barracks to handle arranging the food supplies for their journey. She had given the girl explicit orders to raid the mess hall kitchen of dried meats. Hopefully, there were still some left for the soldiers going on long range patrols.

She would have supervised the Kelvic, but Siiri wanted the girl to know her way about her new home and her new people - something she had been seeking ever since she first became part of Siiri's life. The Myrian hoped Miharu would outgrow her need to ask for orders - for purpose - from her. And so she kept away from the barracks to allow the girl to handle the management of the things they would bring in their trip the next day. It was to be a learning lesson for the both of them, a trial for their growing bond. Siiri had made it clear time and again that she did not want Miharu to be fully dependent on her, like a small child would be to a parent.

Walking around in the training grounds, watching the dying light of Syna's fiery orb cast long shadows on the open field, Siiri's thoughts were taken away from her auburn-haired bondmate as her eyes fell on the ethereal form of the white-skinned Satu. The Konti sat placidly alone on one of the benches, her braided head tilted up as she idly watched the slow migration of red-tinged clouds across the sky.

Paler than even her bondmate, the smallish woman reminded Siiri of a ghost. Her light frame made her look fragile, though the Myrian knew this to be deceptive, having crossed blades with her before. In fact, after the hunting expedition the participated in, the deyhan had earned Siiri grudging respect with her skill in her twin blades. She had gone so far as to call her a warrior after their first engagement, but the hunt only strengthened her belief in the pale woman's abilities.

If she were not so crazy, perhaps she would realize her full potential, Siiri thought.

Approaching, the Myrian warrior held a hand up in greeting, calling the Konti's attention to her.

"Satu. Last chance to join me and Miharu sailing east. We would hit the docks in a tenday or so. Have you spoken with Oni about your departure?"

She looked down at the woman, noting the slightly crooked shape of her nose, a reminder of their earlier encounter, the result of Siiri smashing her forehead against it.

[Satu]

Absently Satu rubbed her nose at the place when Siiri had broken it in their fight. It was still tender at times, and always a constant reminder to be aware. “Oni knows,” she said wistfully, though her feelings were hard to gauge. “Soon I will also leave. But on a different path than you.” The Konti looked off into the distance watching Drainira’s thread. It was invisible to all but her. How it beckoned! “There are things I must do…” She didn’t elaborate; the Konti couldn’t, for she did not know yet what lay in store for her. Unusually calm, she sat on the wooden bench. She had worked through the suvai forms once, and the motion and the dance of the practice always soothed her mind. Her small muscles were taut from the excursion while a sheen of sweat lay upon her skin, making her scales glimmer from perspiration in the changing, fading light. Taking a soft cloth, the Konti wiped her suvai with long, slow strokes upon the length of the white whale bones. The pale weapons matched her white braided hair, in stark contrast to the dark haired Myrians that normally surrounded her in Taloba. Lovingly she cleaned the blades, they were an extension of the suvai fighter, and in essence a great part of who she was. After a few gentle swipes, she lifted her head to the Myrian, her emotional eyes alert, like the cat that is relaxed, yet strangely observant even in rest. Even at this moment the Konti’s gaze took in every detail, especially the way in which Siiri held herself always strong, always controlled. Once Satu and Siiri had been at odds, angry words and blows had passed between them. But now, without words over the course of time they had reached a mutual understanding. Respect had been achieved through action and battle, as Siiri’s raw, aggressive power met Satu’s subtle, yet equally deadly grace. In her own way, Satu respected the Myrian warrior for her strength and determination. After a time of silence between them, she put down the fabric cloth suddenly and her eyes never left the woman, “Others follow you Siiri? How do you achieve this? This leadership?” Satu needed to know. She needed to learn the Myrian’s secret, for she wished so mightily to help others to see the Truth she was only beginning to realize…

[Siiri]

"I threaten to beat them up if they don't," came Siiri's deadpan response. She was about to chuckle at her own joke when she saw the expression the Konti wore. "Oh, the question was serious. Well..."

The Myrian paused, trying to gather her thoughts. She never really wondered why others followed her, she always felt that it was a normal thing for them to do. She was, in fact, being groomed to assume leadership of her own fang - a natural progression of her standing in the army. That meant even more people would defer to her. Did not the jungle have a law for that? Survival of the fittest? In the army, it was promotion of the fittest. Those with the best abilities and drive rose quickly in the ranks.

At last, Siiri settled on an explanation the deyhan would understand.

"I do not know why exactly," she admitted with full honesty. "I never really gave it much thought. Perhaps it's because I have been bred to do so, to be a leader among my people, at least in battle. My abilities are geared towards it, I excel in the art of war. I know how to best use the skills of people available to me to be effective in any encounter.

"That does not mean I lead in every endeavor, however. A better hunter would probably direct a hunt better than I would, and so they should if I found myself in such a group. The level of one's expertise in a particular skill isn't the determining factor on why someone should be leader though. I know many fang leaders who have warriors more capable than them in a fight. Most of the time these people are poor strategists compared to their leaders, however.

"I guess it comes down to the whole package of the person. At a young age, all my learning experiences were focused in besting others in combat. I guess the higher ups in the army see something in me that they want to put me in a position to lead others, perhaps to be able to impart to others what I have been taught. Sometimes it's a matter of belief, whether by others or your own, in your abilities."

She shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

"Why do you ask? Are you to be a leader among your kind as well? A fang leader of sorts?"

Siiri did not know much about Konti society but she had read before that they were not a military race like her own people. That Satu was a warrior must mean she had achieved distinction among her kind. Was she asking her for tips in how to lead others then?

[Satu]

Satu nodded, she had met Siiri’s aggression before, and the Konti could easily picture the Myrian beating someone senseless. Even for a lesser offense. But the woman was not serious and Satu's tranquil mind was caught by surprise. “Bred for war.” The Konti repeated as she looked at her suvai, running her webbed hands over it. Her people were not, and never had been trained in such a way. Before, the girl would have thought such teaching barbaric, but now? No longer. These people had been trained to protect themselves. The traditional ideals instilled in her needed to be overcome. Her time in Opportunity was the great reminder of that. “I was not bred for violence. I was not bred for defending myself… I was trained in the suvai, yes. But not in that way. For War.” She offered. “And not against foes with such bloodlust in their Hearts.” Long ago remembrances shown in her gaze and she added, "Other students turned to me for assistance. I helped to guide them… in the ways of the suvai and its dance.” They listened to her then… why did they not listen now? She wondered. Surely, if she were to practice harder… others would they seek her still? Siiri used the skills of the warriors around her. Maybe this is what she had also done with the suvai students. She could do it now. Take the best parts of them, to use. Because she did believe that each person had a Gift within them. How could she be from the Isle and not believe that? Often it was only a matter of the seeking that special talent, then the finding of it would of course follow. But more importantly she believed in herself and what she had to offer, to others and the world. “I was not destined to be a leader on Konti Isle. No, that path was for others to take. I thought mine different. But Avalis told me once, that destinies and prophecies are not permanent. They are ever-changing.” And things had changed dramatically. “I have reason to doubt the Elder's sincerity, their direction, and the wisdom of their choices.” It was a rare thing for this the Konti to offer so many of her thoughts and explanations to another, but Siiri had knowledge that Satu needed. And the Weak needed her guidance, she had to learn more! Pointedly, she asked, “If I were to practice harder..? Would this help?”

[Siiri]

Siiri shrugged as the Konti spoke. She had heard other deyhan speak of such before, not being raised to be able to fight. It was a concept the warrioress could not wrap her head around. If one did not learn how to fight, how could they ever hope to survive out in the world? A Myrian who stepped out of the city with no combat experience was a soon-to-be dead Myrian.

"What is the point of having taught to fight with these little weapons of yours if not to fight? I have felt their bite and they are formidable. What you hold in your hands, Satu, are tools meant for killing. When you are in a real fight, their poison do not leave your opponents' paralyzed just so you can run away when it takes effect, only for them to run after you again when the paralysis wears off. It paralyzes so you can sink your blades deeper into their flesh and end their lives - that is the whole point of your weapons."

Her eyes never left the pale woman's face the whole time she was speaking, hoping that her lecture was able to take root in Satu's flighty mind. For all the Konti's talent, Siiri found it a tragedy that her mind had been broken in whatever long ago experience she had gone through. A Myrian with her expertise in the blades would have been considered a champion of sorts already.

Satu continued to speak and, unlike their first encounter so many days before, Siiri too continued to listen. It was obvious the Konti was looking for something and she seemed to believe that it was something the Myrian warrioress could give her. Siiri could sense the need in her voice.

"Practice would ever improve you, yes. But skill would only take you so far. Conviction...perhaps it is what you lack. In our fight before, from the disparity of our skill levels in our weapons, I will be the first to admit to you that I should have lost. You moved with the grace and precision of a mongoose. Compared to you, I seemed slow and plodding. And yet I took you out first. Why do you think that happened?"

Siiri did not wait for Satu to formulate an answer. She wanted to impart to her what she believed occurred in that fight.

"I refused to allow myself to be beaten - even weaponless and with one arm useless. It was this belief in myself, my conviction that I could still win, that allowed the next series of events to follow my will instead of yours. Others may say that it was mere blind luck that I had the advantage returned to me, that I am being arrogant by just saying all these, but in matters involving victory and defeat, no matter how big or small the stakes are, I refuse to depend on something as random as luck. I refuse to allow myself to be beaten until the fact has already come to pass."

She offered her hand to the Konti, to pull her up to her feet.

"Stand Satu, and let us cross blades again. You cannot learn anything if we just talk about this!"

Siiri's smile was wide and friendly, her expression genuine. For some reason, she wanted the Konti to find the same level of confidence she had. Perhaps it was this that the pale woman was looking for. Certainly, it was something she could use if she wanted to lead.

[Satu]

“I have conviction.” Satu answered bluntly. But did she really? There was a piece missing of her puzzle, she felt its lack strongly. Maybe the Konti would find what she needed at the end of Drainira’s thread. And Satu added in afterthought, “but I will gather more soon… And you are right, Siiri,” she had to admit. “I have been Weak, but no longer. And there will be Killing! I am done with simple deflections and retreats.” Siiri told her she should have won their fight, and Satu’s white face lifted at the compliment. The Konti nodded slowly at the memory, yes, she should have won. Siiri had beaten her, soundly, but there was that other time she had lost too much and the memory stung her still. Never again she vowed! She would not allow herself to ever give up hope again. Conviction… her eyes turned wild. Satu’s smaller hand found the larger and infinitely warmer one of Siiri, as the Konti’s fingers circled around the offered hand. And still the strength of the Myrian surprised her as she was pulled to her feet. She would learn! This Myrian would show her what she needed to know. So that she could… could grow into her unknown purpose. Immediately, the suvai fighter walked away from the benches, and comfortably slid into a beginning stance, her suvai uplifted. Satu was a study of contrasts then, deadly, with an inner innocence. It made her formidable, as others always felt somehow more experienced, to their detriment. With a deceptively peaceful smile on her face, Satu stood at ready. She loved this, this dance that was about to begin and the suvai flying freely. Satu patiently waited for Siiri to prepare, and her eyes followed the Myrian in study. They knew each others strengths and weakness from their prior fight. But this time the overwhelming emotions that had consumed them both were not there. This would be something altogether different. Cold calculation burned in the Konti’s eyes as she remembered the ways in which Siiri moved with her weapon, and how hard she could hit without it. “Teach me something, Myrian…” Satu teased, unable to refrain from taunting the warrioress.

[Siiri]

Upon the Konti's words, Slayer slid from the scabbard strapped on Siiri's back, even as a full grin blossomed on her lips even as she let out a heartfelt laugh. Despite being a deyhan, despite her unhinged mental state (or perhaps because of it), the Myrian could not help but feel a certain fondness for Satu, for she saw thing so much differently. Where others of her kind would have balked at the brutality and savage ways of the people of Taloba, Satu embraced it with open arms. Whereas most visitors of the city distanced themselves for the ways of the locals to maintain their identities, and in the case of some, their very sanity, Satu willingly took in the alien culture and made it a part of her. Siiri thought she was like a child in that regard, ever curious, ever accepting of new ways offered to her.

"As you will, White Warrior!" Siiri shot back, though there was no vehemence in her voice unlike their first engagement.

She lunged at Satu without hesitation, her massive blade swinging from the side in a powerful arc, an attack meant to decapitate if left undeflected or unavoided. There was no holding back for her; it was as if she was just sparring with a fellow warrior or moving to attack an enemy. No need to pull her punches, because this time, she knew, Satu understood that it was the Myrian way.

Putting everything behind every move, every action.

With confidence and surety.

With conviction in everything they did.

[Satu]

Siiri’s lunge came just as Satu had expected, quick and without warning. The Konti had no choice but to give ground swiftly or be severely injured by the huge blade. The suvai fighter stepped back lightly on the balls of her feet. Her body easily twisted to the side at the last moment and she swung her weapons around and down in a circular motion. First one and then the next suvai followed as she used her training in dual wield to try to graze the Myrian. “I see you still favor that unwieldy weapon,” Satu retorted, and her white braids flew behind her and slapped at her pale shoulders as she moved, while the Konti’s bare feet worked to find purchase on the slippery ground of the training yard. Before, the Konti had had confidence. She even had conviction. But she had not paid them much mind. Now that she was newly aware, her movements were infused with the new found joy of it, and the power that these feelings held. It gave her a view into the Myrian, as it clicked in her mind. That confidence was matched in her opponent and it radiated outward. Satu felt strengthened ever more by it and she studied Siiri as she moved, inwardly committing to memory what Siiri’s confidence felt like within her HeartSense. She waited patiently, unafraid and without worry. Her suvai were held at ready for Siiri’s next attack. Satu knew first hand that it would be unrelenting. There were no distractions, even the Myrian leathers she wore, hugged her body, and hid nothing of her form. The clothes did not flow about her as she moved. Unlike her own that moved on their own in the very air about her, but this day it served a purpose to be without their gentle caress. It was fitting that this day, everything extraneous be stripped away, all show and all softness. There was nothing distracting between the two women but the simple dance of attack and parry.

[Siiri]

Siiri did not even attempt to dodge or deflect Satu's return strike, opting instead to bear the brunt of the smaller woman's counterattack on the thick hide of her leather armor. The twin blades drew deep lines on her standard issue breastplate but they did not penetrate the tough material. A good thing, for the Myrian remembered quite well their debilitating sting. For a weapon so small, she was still amazed how the suvai could render even the largest and strongest warrior immobile with its bite. A mere graze was enough to set off its paralyzing poison. While its effect was localized on the body part its injured, enough hits from the blade could turn anyone practically into a living statue. Ever since suffering multiple wounds from the Konti's weapons, Siiri had often thought how much of an advantage a larger weapon could have if it too could secrete the suvai's unique poison. She had wondered more than once if such a thing could be reproduced.

"It's only unwieldy in the wrong hands."

Pulling up Slayer into a defensive posture, the Snapping Jaws warrior grinned at her opponent as she circled around her. Despite Satu's words, Siiri knew that her weapon, longer than even she was tall, had its own advantage. Its length alone kept the Konti at bay, for she knew that it was foolish to way in while the greatsword was at rest. A slight shift in her grip would easily allow Siiri to shear off a limb if she so chose or shatter the more delicate suvai pair. She knew Satu's strategy was to wait until she committed into a move before counterattacking, employing her agility and smaller size to dance away from Siiri's power attacks in order to get in hits of her own.

And Siiri actually did not mind. The Konti's approach of the battle gave the Myrian insights on how warriors of other cultures fought, providing her new ideas in how to use smaller weapons, for by watching how Satu worked her suvai she knew she could employ the same tactics using her daggers, as well as absorb the Konti's strategical thinking.

Of course, for Satu to actually display such things, Siiri had to coax it out of her by engaging her in battle. And perhaps she could help the Konti find what she was looking for in herself in the fight. Combat was the only way Siiri knew how to shed the bonds of self-restraint - through it she intended to bring out the true identity of the Konti. Right now, Satu was still tentative, reactive to her every move. Siiri wanted the Konti to take the initiative and attack rather than wait for her attacks to come. She wanted Satu to lead in their deadly dance this time.

And so she charged, her greatsword singing as it cut through the air with the wild swipes she threw at her pale-skinned opponent. Each one could have cleaved a grown man in half if they only hit, but Slayer did not bite into flesh, the Konti too quick to be caught by the heavy blade.

"Take the fight to me, Konti!" Siiri challenged out loud, laughing in the wake of her swings.

[Satu]

“Take the fight to me, Konti…,” Siiri told her. And Satu easily danced out of the way of the crashing great sword, though she slowed for an instant as the words, though light took heavy meaning her mind. As a suvai fighter, she was more trained in the arts of self defense, than the art of war; this difference clearly shown between the two women. Satu nodded within her movements, Siiri was right, and without the shame of the actual words being spoken, the Konti heard: You are acting Weak. As they taught me… she thought. Satu shifted immediately to face the woman, and looked for an opening, but Siiri offered so few. The Myrian knew how she moved, how she danced; she had experienced it when they last had fought. And the suvai fighter felt that her opponent now knew how to counter to her more effectively already. On the one hand, it was a serious disadvantage to the shorter Satu as she tried to find any opening to attack without being skewered or maimed terribly. But then, the Konti realized, Siiri had also felt the whale bone’s sting… multiple times. Would the Myrian be wary, cautious even of being pricked again? The slow smile returned. “Tell me Myrian, have you truly learned the dance? With that weapon?” The suvai fighter breathed the humid air into her lungs, as they circled once more. “Will you follow? Are you capable of this?” And her pale head cocked to the side at the tease, though ultimately it was a serious question disguised as taunt. If Satu could learn to attack with ease, could the warrior woman learn subtly and flow? And could Siiri even give up enough control to let Satu be the aggressor? This chance meeting was about to become very interesting. Her movements registered the change in thought, and the pale girl shifted. The suvai blades sang as they spun from the rapid rotations of her limber wrists. Satu’s suvai moved through the air, separately and never in the same place for long, and it seemed her body followed. The Konti weaved in and out repeatedly, each time coming dangerously close to Siiri’s blade, to see if the woman would falter at the nearness of the poisoned suvai. At the last moment she dodged out again and again. She was hoping to distract her opponent, for when she made the real attack, which would put her own self at risk to the sword’s angry wrath. The change in attack styles seemed to build Confidence within Satu and with each step she took, a new kind of aggression filled her soul. This was something utterly invigorating and wonderful. And then she saw it, the smallest invitation to her white blades. To someone with larger blades it would mean nothing, but to a suvai wielder it was all she needed. Just a prick of the bone… Moving swiftly, she faked a move close to her opponent, and hoped Siiri would react and commit herself with the sword. Then at the last possible instant she would rotate her body, and bring the suvai down one after the other to slide along the exposed skin of the Myrian. It was too late to back away, Satu was in momentum now and committed as she closely watched Siiri beyond the whirl of blades.