Tout est chaos
A côté
Tous mes idéaux des mots
Abimé
Je cherche une âme, qui
Pourra m'aider
Je suis
D'une génération désenchantée
Désenchantée
-Kate Ryan, "Désenchantée"
She didn't offer much in the way of conversation when it was a bit more socially acceptable hour to be morning. The Priestess was in a hurry when she awoke, vacating the room as though it was on fire. It bemused her in a fashion, especially when her face turned red anytime that her eyes happened to fall on her. It wasn't until after she had left that she belatedly realized the reason why. She gave a bare half shrug to the fact her shirt she had donned half asleep certainly need more added to it if it was meant to cover her body better.
Meh… fuck it was the best thought she had. At least she had dressed in something; she had a preference for sleeping nude as it was another measure of freedom she could gain. When one didn't exactly have numerous freedoms to their life, one learned to take them wherever possible. If the Priestess hadn't seen a naked woman before then that really wasn't her problem. She was mostly dressed, partially dressed… ok she had something on. If the other couldn't keep her eyes off, well it wasn't like she complained over most forms of attention.
Instead she drew out her combs and brushes, working the snarls out of her hair that were gained from sleeping before counting off to one hundred. Beauty rituals aside, she had been doing it since she was a young girl that to stop now seemed preposterous. Into her hair she pulled the length of red cloth that she had taken to, affixing it into a bow before a quick bath followed. Quick was exactly that, drying off a few moments later to draw on clean clothes. With some luck, there'd be somewhere that laundry could be done. She hadn't packed for a long stay; two weeks really and that was going to extend out considerably at the rate it was going.
Leaving her armor, she donned her falchion, then over it the other sword belt that held the short sword she had purchased. The room left, she took a random guess to what direction to head. The downside to not speaking the language meant that it was impossible to ask directions, and even worse to read if there were directions so posted. She really should have spent the time to learn Martian but there frankly was not enough time allotted to her. Between training, meetings, further training and even more meetings, she was lucky to steal away a few scant hours between eating and sleeping.
Silently she wished for a break but if she was going to wish for anything, there were so many more worthwhile things to be gained than just a break. With a lingering thought of donning her armor just in case the guide of the night before thankfully appeared, greeting her with a slight bow in deference to the fact perhaps she was someone at least minorly important. Assured that her laundry would be handled; thank the Goddess for small miracles, she was shown to the dining hall that was otherwise void of people.
Apparently Martians were up at the asscrack of dawn. Fuck that noise, even though it was her normal wake up time if she was sleeping in any. She had been tired, not to mention still sporting the effects of her helmet meeting with a mace. A slight inquiry was made to a blacksmith possibly being present for repairs but none was to be had. She agreed with the Priestess that the helmet was ridiculous looking but it provided protection. Otherwise her brain would probably be splattered all over Martian soil.
What a thing to keep her company as she made due with a breakfast of a roll of bread and a smear of honey. Her guide apologized for the bland fare but she waved it off, gulping it down with water. Food was food at this point. The Lunar Court had a rather fantastic kitchen; she suspected that Makoto was there more often than not since arriving. Visiting the Jovian planet was considerably easier than this, for she had been expected. The woman took to cooking in some bizarre hobby when she wasn't beating the shit out of everything in a fury of kicks and punches.
The real delight came in the fact there were strawberries, in a bowl, unconsumed. Goddess she loved strawberries, grabbing a small handful as breakfast, or whatever she wanted to call it, was over. The Priestess was consulting the fires her guide explained, and would likely be at it for hours still. The implications were staggering without being vocalized; she was left to her own devices. To a woman that had no free time, it was a scary notion. It obviously enough did not settle well with her, if her fidgeting and shifty looks gave it all away.
Thankfully the guide saved the day and thus her sanity, showing her to a modest enough sparring arena. While most of the acolytes were not combatants, there were still enough that were either currently or years long since past to justify the room being created. A sandy floor marked by a circle, bordered by the same rock as everything else here held a few training dummies of stuffed straw along one wall. Opposing it were targets for thrown or projectile weapons.
Otherwise, it was devoid of anything else. There were no training weapons here, no items of wood that while blunt would still hurt on contact. Apparently the Martians didn't believe in that. After assuring her guide she could find her way back she resigned herself to the fact that she could at least train, even if it wasn't what she really cared to do. There was no other option however, for honestly she had no idea what it was she wanted to do anyway.
She had awoken in a bit of a sour mood that had nothing to do with the fact that she had been awoken in the middle of the night. After all, she was used to interrupted sleep. Emergencies always arose at least an hour after she had found a chance to give in to slumber. So it wasn't the late night, early morning wake up call by the Priestess. Could it be the visions she had and had shared? She didn't want to believe it was possible; there were no nightmares had by her from them.
A frown overtook her features as she looked to the target dummy. The short sword she had purchased in hand had already made a series of lethal scores along it, spilling straw as its blood and guts. She hadn't remembered drawing it, nor why for that matter she would draw that and not her falchion. Her mood had nothing to do with her denied orgasm; Goddess knew she had been denied that for some time now that her frustration levels were long since capped that nothing would rattle her in that aspect.
What then? All she could gain was that it was a sensation that something wasn't quite right. Leaving the target dummy she found a seat next to it instead, leaning against its nature to sit and think. Being listless was not something that would ever be used to describe her, and yet that was exactly what she was. Boredly she withdrew a small kit from her belt with her falchion, setting about instead to clean the weapon with a rag and hone its edge once more. A sharpened piece of metal, no longer than her finger, removed the dust that had settled within the hilt easily enough.
But even that wouldn't hold her attention. She had set to the short sword next out of boredom, her thoughts pulling away with her. Coming back to with a start the metal pick left a gouge in the crossguard, earning it more than a frown. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Goddess what the hell was wrong with her? She had never acted like this before. Scowling with thoughts of just returning to her room and forcing herself to sleep she ran her thumb over the gouge to gauge the damage done. Taken in by the moment, the pick was brought to the guard again, adding to the markings until her planetary symbol appeared. It was crude in some regards, not exactly even, but it sated her.
It sated her enough to allow a small smile to take hold. Her mood instantly brightened, almost as though she felt a renewed connection to her patron. Returning the cleaning items to their proper place she pushed back up to her feet, brushing herself off before taking in the target dummy once more. Training weapons would have been nice but she let it be, turning to leave when she stopped in her tracks instantly.
The Priestess had graced her with her presence, a distant, almost distracted look about her features. Goddess does she ever not wear robes? was a question to make residency in her mind, ultimately surprised by her appearance. The disturbing aspect came when the distracted look did not outright fade; it was almost like she was lost in a fog before she suddenly enough snapped back to reality, looking at her.
"You missed lunch."
Fuck. There went those plans but wait, already? She didn't feel like she had been gone for that long but perhaps she had been. Still, it was completely unlike her to lose track of time in such a fashion, allowing a slight frown its chance to shine before sending it away. Finding herself answering with a shrug she offered what would be among the most pathetic of excuses, "I lost track of the time." Big time.
It seemed to be an acceptable answer, the Priestess apparently debating something internally before she strode the rest of the way into the ring, standing a few feet from her. "Well you're here. You might as well show me how to not stab myself further."
This wasn't supposed to happen. The Priestess previously had taken to her instruction with grudging reluctance and a stubborn streak that could rival her own. Whatever prompted this change of heart was concerning, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth or anywhere else for that matter. If the Priestess wanted to train then perhaps she found something while talking to fire. The entire process seemed outlandish to her but her spirituality ran in different avenues after all.
Giving a nod she went back over the basics, watching as the Priestess drew the short sword she wore easily and with familiarity. That was concerning, but she made no mention of it. Drawing her own short sword she left her falchion be, going over basic strikes and parries. Sword play was not some hack-a-thon, it was more of a dance and who better to instruct than herself? It would take her years to understand how fluid it all really was, how the sword was really just an extension of her arm, but she had to start somewhere.
The fact though that she suddenly seemed more skilled weighed on her however. She took too quickly to the lessons, even a complex riposte she pulled off after only being shown it twice. Was the Priestess just playing everyone all along regarding her skills, or was there more to it? She finally stepped back, debating a moment before flipping her short sword around to offer it to the other, hilt first.
"You seem to have a knack for this, so we might as well see how well you can fight with two."
That finally stunned the other, who looked at the sword with apprehension, as though it was something cursed or ill favored. Warily she accepted it in her right hand, testing the balance before making an awkward practice swing, followed by another. That was what she wanted to see, the clumsiness in a way, it at least told her suspicions that perhaps the Priestess had a body double walking about were completely false. That she took too well to the this training though still worried her, but not enough now.
Settled, she drew her own falchion, feeling the comforting weight and balance of a weapon made and designed for her, not merely produced. The motion drew the Priestess' attention back to her, brows drawing together in confusion. "Its easier for me to practice against something that will strike back, not just a target dummy." She gave a cant of her head, blonde hair swaying, towards the straw that she had already spilled. The eyes of nightfall narrowed in study, finally understanding, but with inherent caution. "I won't do the same to you, promise. You can go through all the forms you want; until you attack you'll never know."
The other hesitated still, for once looking completely uncertain as though it really wasn't her here the entire time. Swallowing she seemed to shrink in on herself, almost as though she was wilting before finding her backbone and nodding. The night and day difference was enough for her to cock an eyebrow at her, rethinking this practice completely. There wasn't something right going on, but she couldn't exactly say what outside of feelings. Her on again, off again empathic abilities were lapsing as well, sensing nothing than her own lingering hunger and the tiredness that clung to her like her favorite gown did.
"If you'd rather not…" She began with, giving the Priestess a chance to back out as this all hinged on her and her ability to not only concentrate but be confident as well. There was so many hidden truths to this moment. She wanted to be in the presence of the Priestess; it wasn't lust that drove her despite the thoughts she may have entertained. It wasn't some insecurity about being alone even though she was. It might have been some obligation of duty; she would ultimately work with her regardless of this moment right now.
She had a want that she couldn't so easily define and it was wearing on her for it. A long ago enough time she learned to be honest with herself, otherwise succumb to likely madness for not doing so. While she couldn't define it, she certainly could not deny it, and desired it so very badly that it almost made her want to scream. Who was this Priestess that was slowly disrupting the very orbital spin of her world? Who was this Priestess that could do this so easily, in the span of but a small handful of days?
Her mouth parted to speak, to perhaps confess feelings that she couldn't be rightly sure on other than the overwhelming need that they be true before it promptly shut as the Priestess moved. She shook her head sharply, swords all but slammed to their sheaths; even if she didn't possess both it didn't stop her, before she promptly turned and fled from the small training arena.
Her falchion's point dropped down by her booted toes as she released the heavy sigh that resounded far too much like defeat.