"The darkness and the light wage a constant war within you. The balance is tipped one way now, but it can easily be tipped back." ―Darth Malak KOTOR I
The pale girls' slight chest rose and fell rapidly and she twirled around the training mat. She mentally cursed the long strands of ebony hair that had long since slipped out of the high braid trailing down her back, plastering themselves against her forehead and drooping into bright blue eyes.
The opponents briefly broke apart, circling each other warily along the very edges of the dueling circle. She slowly spun the twin wooden blades in agitation, glancing from her opponent's single blade, to his face, and back to the blade again. In her brief weapons training under Master Kavar, the warrior had instructed her to watch only her enemy's face; the movement of his blade would always be reflected there. That was, of course, a lot easier said than done.
The bald teen charged forward, his blade swinging fiercely down from above his shoulder, down across his body to hit solidly against the smaller opponents rib cage, sending the slender girl flying to the left.
Gasping in pain, Revan landed on her shoulder, tucking in her head to execute a roll which kept her barely within the dueling circle's limits. Abandoning one of the blades, she threw her arm out in front of her, planting her hand solidly on the ground, and sending her legs over her head in a rapid flip. Malak's second thrust slammed into the ground behind her, sending her second training blade skittering across the mat to rest on the opposite edge from the panting girl.
A small cheer erupted from the gathered Apprentices and Padawans as she clutched at her bruised ribs from her guarded crouch in the center of the mat. She brought up her remaining blade before her face, offering a blood smattered sneer to her opponent, an expression quickly answered with a vicious grin from the uninjured male.
"Ready to give up, Revan?"
"What, just when I'm starting to win?"
"I'm afraid that last hit to your head has left you confused. The point of sword play is to hurt your opponent. No points for hitting their blade with your body." He moved to the side, letting lose a kick that sent her abandoned blade soaring out of the circle, narrowly missing the head of a specter before clattering noisily against the wall of the training room.
Her sneer twisted into a triumphant smirk "That's right, Malak, be afraid!" Before the words were fully out of her mouth she sprung into action, launching herself from the crouch clear across the mat. Twisting in mid air, she tucked her legs against her chest, kicking them out fiercely as she reached her target. A rush of air left Malak's lungs as her feet connected solidly with his chest, sending him staggering backwards. Rolling across the floor to a kneeling position, Revan struck before he had time to reclaim his footing, smashing the point of her blade into his kneecap and sending the older Padawan down onto one knee.
In the same swift motion the dark haired girl sprung into the air once more, turning to deliver another kick into the boys now lowered chest. She lost visual contact for only a split second, just long enough to give Malak his chance. A strong hand snapped out, grasping the ankle only inches away from his face. Dropping his knee to the floor, he twisted his upped body, redirecting Revan's momentum to his left, swinging the slight girl behind him and sending her clear out of the circle.
Revan crashed painfully into the solid wall of spectators around the match, sending two of them to the ground with the force of her decent. The crowd burst into applause as the long match finally came to an end, several of the Padawans of Malak's age rushing over to congratulate their friend. Revan shoved herself off the ground, practically growling as she wiped the sweat away from her face, pausing momentarily to gingerly touch the bruise now forming on her sharp check bone.
"Face it Revan," Malak mocked from the center of his gloating companions, "I'm just better than you."
She swayed a little as she climbed back to her feet, straightening with a repressed groan to face him fully. "You? That's a laugh."
"You really are slow, aren't you? I beat you Revan. I. Beat. You. I'm standing here, and you're bleeding over there. You, are second rate."
A half laugh ended in her spitting some of the excess blood collecting in her mouth on to the floor. "Say that again."
"Are you kidding me?" That expression she couldn't stand had stolen over his face. The part confused, part annoyed, and part pure superiority expression that she had seen far too often in her short life. "Do you really want me to humiliate you like this, Revan? I mean, I'm more than happy to oblige, but still, it's hardly normal."
"I said: say that again." Her grip on the training blade tightened as she stared intently at him. The small crowd that had remained started shifting uncomfortably, glancing at each other in uneasy confusion at the unexpected reaction losing had caused in the famously talented Padawan.
"If you insist. You, Nymada Revan, are: Second. Rate." The grin that crossed his face as he purred out the last two words was rapidly replaced with an expression of pure shock bordering on horror as his feet left the ground.
A collective gasp swept through the remaining Padawans, and one of the Apprentices fled from the room as Revan raised her free hand, levitating the heavy male several feet above the ground. Tilting her head gently to the side, it was Revan's turn to grin. She began stalking forward slowly, the Padawans between her and Malak parting rapidly as she approached the hovering teen.
"No, Malak. No. Maybe I'm not quite as good as you in duels, not yet. Not yet. But I," she threw her arm upwards, forcing the frowning boy to float several feet higher, "I am not second rate. Not to the likes of you."
"You're out of control, Revan," he whispered from his elevated state.
"Oh, come on Malak. Like you weren't the same way, ten seconds ago. Throwing me out of the ring, finally beating me at something. Like you weren't just as content then, as I am now."
He looked down at her at that, making eye contact for the first time since his forced levitation.
You did like it, didn't you?
Another one of those moments passed; the same as in the anteroom to the Council Chamber. No anger clouded this moment however, not raging emotion made the feeling confusing or unclear. The rumbling of the other Padawans faded into nothingness, their discomfort and distress at the dangerous turn the duel had taken went on unnoticed by either one. A perfect moment of understanding flowed between them.
Yes.
The moment ended swiftly as Revan started when the training room doors crashed open, sending Malak tumbling over half a dozen feet to the ground, his Jedi training alone allowing him to land gracefully on both feet. She thought she may have caught a wince as he landed on the knee she had attacked, but the forced calm words of the Master prevented her from paying full attention.
"Padawan Revan, Padawan Malak. You will meet me in the Council Chambers immediately."
The apprentice that had fled only second before stood worriedly behind Master Zhar, gazing at the agitated Master's billowing robes as he stalked back out of the facility. The remaining spectators quickly dispersed, each knowing better than to linger at the scene of one of Revan and Malak's discovered crimes.
Revan cast a quick glance at Malak, and brought the corner of her brown robe self-consciously up to her face, dabbing at the leak of blood oozing slowly from her nose.
He sighed softly and expressed her exact sentiments. "Not again."
