A/N: Reviews make me happy.
Thunderfall - the only thing better than a badass Venus is a badass Mars… no wait. The only thing better is a badass REINAKO! That is the definition of badassedery right there and that should be coming along soon enough.
Decido - Yeah longer chapters would be awesome, but I'm an accountant during the day so work has to come first. I can either do really big chapters and take longer to update, or I can do shorter chapters with more frequent updates. I too am not a fan of getting engulfed in a story only to find out that it wasn't updated like … five or something years ago. But I have all intentions of finishing this, so hang in there; hopefully you find it worthwhile to read.
Super Secret Guest Reviewer - Rei generally is the one cast as the combatant you're right, but I like putting the completely different spin on things. Or exploring avenues that others don't mention very often. No worries about not finishing, the bigger question is how many curveballs am I going to throw into this, or do I just make a sequel for those curveballs? Reinako merchandise is the best, more so the stuff you have to personally collect and make to get it to happen.
Special thanks to sailorsunspot on Tumblr for answering the unasked question I was posed to ask, but then read a reply and found the answer instead.
Dear future:
I bought you, I own the right
to let go; destroy you. This is my life
-Innerpartysystem, "Don't Stop"
The world was throbbingly painful.
Pain, as the saying went, was your best friend. It let you know that you were still alive when you might be in doubt of living, due to any number of factors. If you were alive, then that meant you could still complete your mission. And completing missions was what she was all about. That was her duty, from the day she had been essentially born. Her honor established itself as unbesmirched when she became the embodiment of the Goddess.
For years she had trained, mastering not only the arts of courtly etiquette as any proper Princess should, especially a Venusian one, but also that of martial warfare. Just as handy with a falchion as she was to falconry, she could recite poetry while signalling to a suitor on the other side of the room her desires, to a place and time no less, with a fan. She could best the Captain of the Lunar Guard in both mock and actual combat, a fact that was found out in more than just a single contest. She took it all seriously, perhaps too seriously but she had an underlying streak of playfulness if in the right company.
Her lovers could attest to that. She was rather picky, almost snobbish, about who she was intimate with but she was adventurous enough as well that she had a string of them. Most were from her native planet as it was far more acceptable to experiment there, unlike the other planetary bodies. Especially since arriving on the Moon, her time had been spoken for too much that all she could manage, if she had the inclination with a stuffy Lunarian, was some frantic alcove bang that wouldn't have done a damn thing for her in the first place. It left her with an underlying sense of need but since given this mission by the Queen, it was just a matter of time she knew before she found someone of worth.
That was something to think of later though. Her mind was too busy processing that her body was feeling pain. It was thrilled to know that and feel it however, for pain meant the most important thing to her at the moment.
She was alive.
She was alive, she wasn't dead, and from that moment on it could only get better.
Ever the optimist she struggled towards movement, first with seeing. Her eyelids fought and soon enough won the power of attrition to open, seeing at first nothing. Fuck was she blind?! It took a few blinks to soothe her conscious that no, she wasn't and instead, what she was seeing was only natural given the environment. A cave, deep enough below the surface of the planet to ward off the heat if it were day, but not too deep that she would freeze. Shadows flickered against the cavern's walls; there was a fire somewhere but it was far away if the reach of the dancing shadows was any sort of indication.
Her head felt like it was on fire, a shame it didn't produce any heat. She was chilled, no she was cold, recognizing at once that she did not have the familiar weight of her armor about her. Instead, she could feel her clothes worn underneath; fuck anyone who thought chafing was a wonderful sensation, and the length of her cloak covered most of her body save for her booted feet which stuck out the end. Something felt odd about her head, a hand slowly raising to touch on a wound piece of cloth to her temple. Right, the mace. Her eyes closed again in silent remembrance of it, or maybe it was more silent marveling that she hadn't gained more than a concussion from it.
Hate it she did, but she would give that stupid helmet serious thanks for saving her life later. Right now though, finding out where she was sounded more important than praising helms for doing their job. With careful movement she pushed back her cloak, sitting up slowly to keep her world from spinning too much out of control. Rather than give it a chance to settle she pushed herself on to rising, even if it meant she had to find the wall quickly enough to keep her balance.
Fuck alright, she was overdoing it but it would not settle with her until she knew that her charge was safe.
Giving her eyes something else to do than focus on the fact her head was splitting she looked about. Other than where she had been passed out at, there was nothing significant in the cavern itself. In fact none of her stuff was even there, drawing a frown all at once. Not even her falchion, which was going to alarm her even more once it fully registered. Wonderful, here she was in an unknown cave with just her clothes, with no sign of her charge much less her stuff.
A softly given "fuck" whispered from her lips, refusing to feel pity for the situation. The world seemed to have stopped spinning quite so violently and she took that as an indication to move onward. Towards the direction of the fire she movement, following the scent of a clean burn and the echoing sound of softly popping embers. The closer she got the warmer it felt, not enough to make her wish she wasn't wearing her armor but enough that it fought off the chill that lingered about her all the same.
The source seemed to be coming from a chamber just around to her left, behind an outcropping of rocks. It really wasn't that far away she dimly realized, even with her slow, almost shuffling steps it hadn't taken that long to reach from where she had been at to here. Why did such things really matter anyway, her thoughts called into question as she rounded the natural barrier…
Right into a sword that pressed against her collarbone.
The masochistic delight flared in her for a moment as both cloth and skin parted under the weapon's tempered and sharp tip. She felt her nerves sing a song that they found enjoyable, but only to a certain point. Mutilation was not her thing, or at least not permanent marks of it. She bore scars on her body yes that came from her line of work, from her duty, and was not shy or prissy about gaining them. She did however, want to make it through life; however long it would be with serious hope it would be a long one, without looking like a mass of scar tissue all the same.
"Wh… who goes there?!"
Her eyes that had closed for a moment for the sensation reopened again, taking in stock of the Priestess, holding her falchion. Holding her falchion that was currently pressed against her collarbone. Currently pressed against her collarbone and staining her soft mixed white and gray shirt with red. Staining her shirt that was one of the few things she wore truthfully with a sudden sort of reminder. Her breasts rose and fell with each slowly and measured breath she took, her gaze meeting that of the Priestess' own eyes that seemed smokier or maybe it was indeed the fire that burned behind her.
It cast a shadow, hiding her charge's face in its protective embrace while the light highlighted her own. Of things her eyes could be considered, lazy was the contradictory term they lived up to. They moved from the shades of darkened violet to the woman herself, following her arm, to her hand, to her falchion held entirely wrong in it, to its blade, to her body before she looked back up again. Her lips had moved with a press to one side of her face, a grimace of sorts, as her eyes took note of it all before they relaxed.
The sigh seemed to echo louder than it was given, her hand; bare she noted, raised to fall over the Priestess' own hand to correct her grip. She hadn't meant to do that. She hadn't meant to show her this was how to hold the weapon in order to thrust it forward, to break through flesh, bone, muscle. This was how to end the life of someone, or make them wish they were truly going to die. She hadn't meant to.
But the contact of bare skin to bare skin, even for so innocent as hands touching, sent an electric pulse through her. With a swallow she pulled herself out of the endless depths of the Priestess' eyes, fighting and clawing all the way as it was not somewhere she really wanted to leave and why for that matter did she have to? Her fingers collected her falchion, disarming the Priestess who otherwise didn't put up a fight with her about it. Returning it to her side she kept the weapon pointed down, the tip resting just enough against her booted toe without threat to pierce through the leather.
"Shouldn't you challenge who goes there first before you stick the person? Especially with their own weapon?" She quipped, mischievousness coloring her already lilting voice. The moment was broken, watching the Priestess react in kind, but with a scowl that appeared to be a rather permanent feature to her face yet not enough that lines had developed.
"Shouldn't you announce yourself first, before you walk into things? You seem to already have a bad habit of doing so."
Ooo, touché. She liked this one. It was hard to find someone that would verbally spar with her. Her lips moved to a parted smirk, watching … no, enthralled by the reaction as the Priestess' eyes instantly focused to her mouth, then widened all the more as her tongue flicked out, making a single pass before retreating. By the Goddess this was wonderful, such a boon she was blessed with for just this moment. "Oh I don't know, I can't help it that I'm in such awe to be in your presence."
That it got the other to scowl further had been worth it. She giggled, the smirk moving towards a confident grin. She could almost see the thoughts that took place in what had to be a most delightful mind, probably calling her infuriating at the very least, probably coming up with ways to punish her for her infractions. Whoa wait, where did that thought come from? Who cared, it was too good to pass up!
The Priestess turned her head, abruptly turning her back to return to her spot at the fire that she had been at before she had walked in. Situated close by, but not exactly in arms reach to her, was her gear. The firelight reflected off of her breastplate, off of the break in material that shown where the mace had met her personally. Her pack was closeby as well, to all sake of appearances it did not look to have been opened or gone through. The other was not going to continue the conversation she noted, as she was too busy putting things away.
Her gaze slipped to her falchion in hand, noting that it was clean of blood and other bodily fluids and remains save for the tip that had pierced her flesh. Back up her gaze went, noticing that the things put away were common towards cleaning off something that was dirty. Her heart softened a moment, when it wasn't too busy focusing on corruption of this Priestess for that matter, before she moved to where her stuff was gathered. Into the scabbard her falchion went, running the edge along her boot before setting the sheathed weapon aside to sit down.
Nice enough to keep the fire between them she instantly drew herself to its warmth, her fingers rising to press to the cloth wrapped around her temple before the Priestess' voice rose. "Don't. You're lucky to be alive after that." Was it her imagination, or did some of the gruffness leave her posture? With the fire between them it was easier to see her, sitting rather calmly and serene enough, but quick to move she anticipated, if something was to go astray. Right, the blow. She had forgotten the pain for a moment as she was caught up in another one. "Or you're incredibly foolish, one of the two. So which Warlord sent you." It was a question, but too posed as a statement as the Priestess pinned her down with a glare.