Pyrrha remembers the smell of the arenas most of all. Argus, built by both Mistrali and Atlesian influences, is a city of stark and distinct nature, below, the industrial, well lit expanse of Atlas is dominant, and clustered near the river. Above, the cliff born spires of Mistral's older settlements, with buildings built to break and shape the wind, sending distinct currents floating through the air. Even now, as she looks out of the back of the Manor's yard, she can see dozens of colorful gliders and airships of wood, singing through the skies as they carry cargoes that ranged from songs and gentle weavewood, to the hearty and spicy smells of curries and soups.
Pyrrha remembers the smell of the arenas most of all, the thick air, filled with sweat, the tang of iron in blood, and that scent so thick that even here, hundreds of feet below the second arena she'll be fighting in, she can feel and practically taste it.
Pyrrha's older sister, Helena, had shut herself in her study earlier; She had not been the same for quite some time, ever since she had left for training as a huntress in Atlas' prized academy. Something had driven her back here shortly after her graduation but even now, at 23 to Pyrrha's 12, she still was every bit the firebrand she'd been. Except when one asked her what had happened in Atlas.
Then she would clam up and refuse to speak about it. Pyrrha's mother, Athena, had pried briefly, but with her burgeoning divorce case against Alexander clawing at her attention, she'd quickly abandoned that path when it was clear that she would get nowhere with her wayward daughter.
She'd instead turned her attention to Pyrrha, and her upcoming debut.
Even now, as Pyrrha ran through drills, ran through flashier moves intended for tournaments, she could see her mother watching from the sidelines, clad in battle armor and regalia of the Nikos house. A full suit of bronze armor, from the outlining of her musculature to the curves and swells of her body fit her like a glove. Her eyes were steel, and even now, the domineering, powerful will she'd had for decades borne down upon her household flowed out of her.
Pyrrha's mother never let her gaze flicker from Pyrrha, watching every motion her daughter made with great interest.
Many of the people who had trained her had praised Pyrrha for being the best at anything she'd chosen to do, and she'd long since run through the squires that Helena and Athena tried to provide, they weren't much of anything, compared to her skill. A part of her felt vaguely guilty for being so disparaging, but it was the truth, in all honesty.
Well… save for one.
That girl that had been sneaking about when she'd been out with her family's associates. The girl who had worn an aura cloak like a second skin, weaving it so densely that Pyrrha had had to genuinely push hard to breach it.
She still remembered that look in the other girl's eyes. Appraising her, judging her, and simultaneously… curious.
Pyrrha had not seen "curious" before. The squires her family continued to throw at her knew who she was, "The Red Haired Demoness", "Untouchable", "Goddess of War", "Minerva".
The last a cruel joke applied to her family, aimed at an ancestor who had defected during the Faunus war, supporting them against her own countrymen and betraying her family.
Privately, Pyrrha didn't think that was too much of an issue, the Faunus were just as much people as anyone else she'd ever met, but some of the things that Alexander had said about the Faunus struck Pyrrha as… strange. Some of the things that he said even now, that they were animals, that no human should live in the slums, that the Faunus were nothing more than animals.
How that made sense, she had no idea, some of the staff were Faunus, they looked just like her, after all!
Her exercises continued. Most of the motions here, the fight moves, were flashy– "soft" was what one instructor, named Roland, had called them. He'd been a rough man, a man from her parent's pasts who had taught her that fighting wasn't supposed to be flashy, it was supposed to be effective.
She'd tried to learn that way even after he'd left their family behind, or he'd been fired. Pyrrha wasn't really sure, at this point.
But her later instructors had taught her to show off her powers, to bend an enemy around just slightly, to twist their momentum, to make hits turn into near misses. It wasn't what Pyrrha wanted to do, but she was not superior to her trainers, yet.
But there would be a day she was. When she debuted, when she reaped the rewards of the sponsorships and the flow of gold began in earnest for her and her family?
Then she would dictate her own style, then she would dictate everything about who she was and everything about who she could be.
Then, maybe she'd be able to seek out that girl on her own.
Abject curiosity was not something Pyrrha had felt for some time, but the look in that girl's eyes. The burning, blazing flames of determination had stirred something within her.
"I want to fight her."
That desire loomed large, loomed vast in her heart, and it inspired something of a fierce joy in who Pyrrha was.
She trained, she trained and she fought. But nothing had been able to equal her in so much time. She'd lost track of the last time she'd felt truly challenged by a fight, lost track of the last time she'd felt that sense of almost defeat that she craved.
Helena had called it being a battle junkie, had called it a dangerous thing to have. But Pyrrha hadn't forgotten the way Athena and Alexander's eyes had glowed when she'd told their parents about it.
Alexander felt that it would only be a boon, to want and crave an ever better challenger, it had led his decision to place Pyrrha inside of the graduate arena, at great expense, rather than the initiate. Sponsors and recruiters would be there, perhaps from further up the Nikos line, perhaps from the great families who controlled Mistral itself.
A snort forced its way out of her nose, and Pyrrha giggled; Her parents gambled their livelihood on her performance, so how funny would it have been if she'd tripped, or hurt herself, or gotten attacked in the streets?
How much would her parents have been forced to care if she'd been injured to the point her career was in danger?
Would they have cared more about how she was?
Would they have spent less time screaming at each other?
Questions like that didn't matter, what mattered was the fight. Pyrrha turned back to the fight, to the final set of moves, and landed evenly on her feet. She turned to see her mother's reaction, but Athena had already left, vanishing into the manor as quickly as she'd come back out. Pyrrha tried to contain her disappointment, but… a part of her wished that just once Athena or Alexander would say something she wanted.
That they might just once tell her they were proud of her.
She sat there in the fields for who knew how long, for who would drive her away from them when she seemed to be exercising?
"Pyrrha?"
Helena, older sister, standing over her and extending a hand down, her heterochromatic eyes split evenly between blue and green.
"Are you alright?"
She takes the hand, and Helena pulls her up, the older woman's smile gentle on her face.
"I am fine. Are mother and father-"
"Still fighting? Yes, they have at the very least stopped flinging glassware at each other."
She spoke with a deep weariness that seemed to suck at the life that Helena nominally had within her. The resignation she had and carried with her, something that Pyrrha saw but couldn't comment on. How was she to approach it in the first place? Helena always seemed… ok.
"That girl, the one you told me about, the one who had an aura cloak you had to strain to see through?"
Pyrrha sat up at that. She'd told Helena about it in passing, never expecting her sister to do anything beyond commiserating. To hear mention of her unprompted? It immediately invoked that curiosity.
"What about her?"
She tried to disguise the hope in her voice, the suddenness, but Helena's smile told her she'd failed.
"I found her, I think."
Pyrrha's entire form shifted now, her older sister had her full attention, and she looked up at the other woman immediately, eyes focused on her.
"I found this little girl in one of the upper terraces, with orange eyes, dark hair, carrying herself with an air of experience she shouldn't have, given her age."
Pyrrha nodded. So far, so good.
"She… had someone with her, though, a tall woman, red eyes and wild hair, and absolutely a huntress. She carried a long odachi, Mistrali designed, based on the handle, in a long sheathe with dust blades."
Pyrrha's eyes never shifted and she sat stock still. She had to learn more, had to hear more about it.
"She knew who I was, too, at least, her guardian did. I was attempting to ascertain if she would be a fitting squire."
"What was the girl's name? Or her guardian's?"
Helena sat down and shook her head.
"The girl claims her name is "Sunny" and her guardian didn't introduce herself. But I suspect that her guardian was Raven Branwen."
Pyrrha's eyes flashed open, this was the child of Raven Branwen? No wonder she was strong.
"Daughter of a bandit!?"
"I don't think so, before her guardian had shown up, she'd told me she was an orphan, rather, she could have lied but I believe it to be the truth."
"And what about her? The girl?"
"She is skilled, at the very least, I do not know if she is your equal, but she handled herself in a way that speaks of harsh, potent training from a young age to reach latent potential. Her aura was viciously honed, and were I not who I am, I suspect I would not have been able to actually detect her usage of her aura."
"What makes you say that?"
Helena pauses, considering and carefully thinking for a moment as she considers. Before she speaks once more.
"You know how mother's semblance requires her to flare her aura to activate it?"
"Mhm, she has to pulse it into whatever she wants to have it activate on."
"Exactly, this girl flared hers into her eyes."
Pyrrha looked up, aura control like that… was difficult at best. Usually only those naturally talented bothered with it, due to the risks of sheer overstimulation.
"That's… beyond what I can do. I've only done touch and hearing."
Helena nodded.
"Indeed, but I'm not entirely sure she was focusing just her eyesight. She was assessing my posture, and it put her on guard instantly."
"Why is that? Doesn't she know that it's a better place here, that a squire could rise to extreme prominence?"
Helena frowned at Pyrrha.
"It… Pyrrha… you know better. You know that they don't last long in combat against you."
"Then she wouldn't have been worthy of my attention! But she clearly is! Aura control like that would be worth appointing her as a second! If not a full heir of the family!"
Pyrrha was rambling, speaking so fast that Helena couldn't even get a word in edgewise. The implication alone, that such a strong girl could be out there, that someone could challenge her within her own age bracket. It was an intoxicating feeling, one that rushed through who she was, a strong opponent, a really strong opponent!
"Pyrrha, calm down. She's just as human as anyone else."
"But father and mother sa-"
Helena pressed a long, slim finger to Pyrrha's lips, quieting the girl.
"Ah ah ah, no more of that. They aren't the same thing. Mom and Alexander aren't good role models."
Pyrrha looks up at Helena, confused, and a grizzled, old expression curves her sister's lips with something regarding pain.
"Look… they want you to believe that you're special because you're a Nikos."
Pyrrha nodded. This was exactly what she'd been told, it was her job to stand above others at the height of martial prowess.
"You're special because you're my baby sister, and you're sweeter than any of us are."
"But dad says that kindness is only for those who can stand on your level…"
Helena visibly flinched. Twitching away from Pyrrha for a moment, before she reached down and tugged Pyrrha into a hug.
"No… no Pyrrha, kindness is for anyone who deserves it, and I have yet to meet someone who doesn't deserve it."
"Even Raven?"
"Yes, Pyrrha, even Raven has someone she cares for, and someone who cares for her. To hurt others is never the right decision."
"Is that why you left Atlas?"
Helena looks at Pyrrha, her green eyes dark and gentle as she begins to gently rub a hand along Pyrrha's sore shoulders. The gesture and relaxation were something that worked their way through Pyrrha quickly, gently, and then Helena began to speak.
"I left Atlas because my idol also left Atlas. Are you familiar with the Schnee family?"
"Mhm! Mom says they're some of the best examples of nobility in the world!"
"She would say that… You may know, but Jacques Schnee has 3 children, the oldest is Winter Schnee, and she's a bit older than me, but she was going to Atlas."
"Was?"
"Mhm. Still don't know why, but for some reason she left halfway through her fourth year there, disappeared and went off into the wilds, apparently she still shows up every so often in a frontier town, saving people and being the best huntress she can be, just… without having any of the structure of Atlas. It really caught all of us off guard and made me reexamine my place there. I left because I felt that Atlas couldn't give me what I wanted in life."
"What… do you want?"
Helena looked down at her and continued to rub her shoulders, slowly working out the kinks and stretching each one. It takes her time to reply, time that has Pyrrha nearly asleep from the massage.
"For a really long time I didn't know what I wanted from life. Alexander and Athena told me it was the arenas or the huntress track, because I wasn't as good as you were at your age. I chose huntress because I didn't want to go to the arena. Now… I want to be like Winter, I want to chart the old places we've abandoned, find dust reserves that'll let us out of the cities, and… well, help people."
"Why are you here then, instead of out there?"
Helena looked down at Pyrrha and squeezed her in tight.
"Because I'm still a very selfish person and there's someone here who's important. So important that they matter more than that."
A single pause.
"It's you, little sister~."
Helena's voice took on a teasing overture even as Pyrrha bucked and giggled, trying to get away.
"Ick, no, stop it! Ahhhh!"
Pyrrha laughed and struggled as the hug turned to tickles and Helena mercilessly attacked. But it was futile, even with Aura, Helena was bigger and stronger than her sister, and she held her in place for a bit, only releasing her when Pyrrha wiggled enough to start her own attack upon her older sister.
"Pyrrha no! That's cheating!"
"But when you do it, it's fair!?"
"Older sister rules and obligations!"
"Bullshit!"
The outburst is sudden and immediately, Pyrrha is gasping and clutching her hands to her mouth as she sits up, wide eyed and astonished. Helena stifled laughter through two hands clenched at her stomach, inevitably failing and breaking out into sonorous cries that filled the air.
"Never say that around Alexander… he'll-"
"Wash my mouth out with soap I knowwwwww."
"At least he's never done it to you…"
"Helena no-"
That same grin on her face, bold and tinged with just a bit of remembered pain.
"I'll never look at cherry scented soap the same way again."
Pyrrha winces in sympathy, Athena loved it more than anything, and whenever she chose to indulge the scent of cherry would fill the lowest level of the house completely.
"Are you worried about the protests?"
It was stilted and awkward, but Pyrrha felt that the awkwardness of the prior conversation would only have been worse. Helena lay back on the grass next to her, head staring up at the open sky, far above, a flight of three Atlesian gunships flew lazy loops around the uppermost level of Argus, roughly in a formation.
"I don't know. On the one hand, I want to trust Lieutenant Ironwood, and I especially want to hope that he will restore order. But on the other hand… the dockworkers are right to protest, everyone's scared, and really, martial law and the White Fang here too?"
She exhaled, the breath whooshing out of her and into the air as Pyrrha listened.
"All of that, and your debut is in only a few hours. I can barely keep myself together."
Right. The arena. It had slipped her mind. Pyrrha would have liked to have gone into it not completely prepared for every eventuality, her opponent was an Atlesian transplant, a girl named Clove. She'd apparently earned a reputation in Atlas as a vicious fighter and a skilled opponent beyond her years. All of the details that were known about her had been fed into Pyrrha's training and her ears by her coaches weeks ago, the moment they'd known she could even be a possible opponent.
It grated at Pyrrha. They were always staged. The tournaments. Always a show, for the crowds, to keep emotions from running hot, to make the crowd bay for sanctified, "clean" violence.
Nothing like the real stuff, nothing like what she'd seen broadcast from the riots, nothing like that at all.
She grated and gritted her teeth.
That was a real fight, watching a White Fang member face off against an Atlesian soldier, that was the stuff of a street fight, both with knives and guns, the threads of life dangling before them. Knowing that she would have lived to have been there with them.
But no. Not precious, pretty Pyrrha Nikos. The tournament circuit was always going to be the closest she got. The closest a fight ever got for her.
"Pyrrha, quit it."
She sighs and looks to her side, meeting Helena's gaze as the older woman sternly looks at her face.
"You're doing the death glare again, really, how do you expect the audience is going to react to that?"
"Poorly. But… Helena please, it's so boringgggg, I want to fight for real! I want to fight someone that isn't going to stop the moment my aura goes orange. I want to fight like Mom and Dad used to!"
She sounds petulant, she knows, but this isn't the time where she needs to be wearing the public facing mask that had been trained into her as "Pyrrha Nikos". Everything hinges on this tournament, and a part of Pyrrha feels vaguely sorry for the stilted nature of the fight.
She wants to lay in the grass and not go to the arena. She knows it will be boring, but it feels too soon as Helena pulls her up to her feet and inspects her visibly, a few motions, and Helena's semblance calls a few brief gusts of wind, perfectly styling Pyrrha's hair and removing the grass blades that have remained behind on her outfit.
"It's time, you ready?"
Pyrrha shakes her head, she knows she's ready, it's been trained into her bones. But she also knows very much that this won't be a fight. It'll be a show.
She strides towards the front yard, already a wind sailor, a type of Mistrali airship that only ran on wind dust and the strong currents of air that whipped between Mistrali cities through the mountains. The seats were old, leather cracked and worn, but the ship smelled of the maintenance it had undergone, and Pyrrha knew upon stepping aboard that it would safely carry her to the arena far above.
The ship moved whisper quiet into the skies, and as she heard the mutterings of the pilot from behind the thin screen, Pyrrha looked at the looming form of the arena in her vision. The protests had broken the streets into chaos below her, but to the citizens of Mistrali-Argus, the show must continue on, and she had a duty to fulfill.
The grimm were, and remained the only real threat. She had to focus on that first, and that meant a proper showing at the tournament. This girl, her opponent, Clove… reflecting, what would she open with?
Pyrrha closed her eyes and unfolded the arena in her mind, the likely choice would not be anything as elaborate as the Vytal arena's changing biomes, but she could expect some earthwork hills and the like to be scattered about, along with discarded weapons built to be jokes and the like. Her weapons, a simple shield and spear, were at her side, the old steel of the metal proof of their age. A chip in the blade of the spear, the right side, from where a heavy weapon had damaged it.
She would have to prove herself, to win this battle before the family would commission a weapon for her. While Pyrrha would have liked to have taken a ranged component into this fight, she knew enough to know that she would have to win by her own merits and little else.
The old weapon was a relic, and she'd need to hope it stood up to enough punishment, especially against her opponent.
Her trainers had fed her every detail they could about the weapon, style, and semblance of Clove. The girl had a massive chip on her shoulder, something about the sudden death of a family member only a few months prior. And she'd tempered that into a blazing desire to train and excel at everything she could. Apparently, her semblance let her siphon training and skills or something to that level. The longer she spent around someone, the more pronounced the drain, the worst part?
She apparently kept the skills and muscle memory of the target.
Her trainers had urged Pyrrha to expect a combatant of multiple different styles and skills ranking her easily as huntress level, if not even nastier than before. A fight that should have been easy, would likely provide more of a challenge.
Pyrrha grit her teeth, all except for one caveat.
Sure, the girl had the skill, but that may make it easier or harder, it depended on if the girl got the skills and muscle memory exclusively, or if she inherited some form of battle precognition.
That would be the key.
She fought with a glaive predominantly, a weapon that outranged Pyrrha's own spear and shield, but lacked the defensive abilities of a shield, as well as the versatility of the spear. She would need to exploit that, harry the woman constantly, attempt to wear her down before she could bring her weapons to bear.
The gentle jolt of the wind sailor setting down, and the hiss as the doors opened, revealed to Pyrrha that they had landed, the gladiatrix retrieved her shield, and stepped down, catching a faint wish of "good luck" from behind her as the pilot began the takeoff procedure once more.
She made eye contact with the darkened tunnel ahead of her, measuring the slight slope that would carry her to the doors into the arena. Already, she could hear applause and cheering as the crowd applauded the last bout. Passing into the tunnel, the sound shook the upper ceiling, reverberating around her until Pyrrha felt as though every single person was there, cheering just for her.
She hoped that Athena and Alexander would be there.
She hoped that Helena was watching, if she'd not been called in to do her own obligations as a huntress.
The slope leveled out, and light began to pour into the tunnel as Pyrrha climbed to the apex, each step she had taken, every day of strained muscles and burning agony had led here. She wanted to win, wanted to fight and make her family proud, wanted to put on such a show that would leave every single one of the audience utterly speechless.
The portcullis slid open, and Pyrrha stepped out into a cool breeze and a warm sun, her armor cladding her form in its protection, even as she hummed under her breath. Aura worked best when infused before combat, and the slow melody would shape it into powerful protection. Which she'd need every single piece of for the upcoming bout.
Her opponent stood across from her. She had light brown hair, tied up into a high bun on her head, which pushed her already sharp features into something that resembled a blade. Emerald eyes shone darkly, but with something else within them.
It took Pyrrha a moment to really see it, but it hit her all at once.
This must have been Clove, and she burned with anger and rage, from the tight, jerky movements she was making, to the white in her clenched fists. A beautiful, elaborate glaive hung over her shoulder, it's polished blade curving sharply, though Pyrrha noted a trio of barrels near the top of the weapon, its ranged component, perhaps?
It was, startling, to have her opponent address her so suddenly.
"You're not who I was expecting."
Her voice was flat, uninspired, and lacking all of the fury that her motions and physical nature communicated so expertly to Pyrrha's sharp gaze.
"Who were you expecting?"
The girl kicked a rock across the arena, and replied to Pyrrha's politeness with one of aristocratic accent.
"Shorter girl than you, black hair, orange eyes. The bitch who killed mom."
"A look of defiance on her face?"
Clove's eyes lit up.
"You know her!?"
Her face became guarded soon after.
"Are you friendly with her?"
Pyrrha, about to speak, was interrupted, as a gong sounded, and the announcers began to speak. Drowning all further noise out.
"WE'RE BACK FOLKS~!"
"Indeed~! To cap off this graduate level fight, we have a pair of very special guests today~! Barney, would you like to introduce our Atlesian candidate?"
"Of course! Standing there, armed with a beautiful glaive and given personal instruction and the eye of Captain, now Lieutenant General James Ironwood, she's the menace of the Atlas Academy prep school, CLOOOOOOVEEEEE~!"
The considerable presence of Atlesian graduates began to applaud and clap, the sound roaring over Pyrrha like a wave as she tracked the stands where it originated from.
"As for our Mistrali candidate, you all know her, you all know who she's representing~! You know her skills and today you'll get to see them for the first time! Introducing the youngest graduate level fighter, she's been cleared to compete with students at Argus academy as soon as she completes this bout, it's PYRHAAAA NIKOS!"
Pyrrha had thought she'd been ready, she wasn't. The wall of sound nearly blew her off her feet as it drowned her out, and her opponent scowled something fierce as the girl let a shocked, happy smile spread across her face.
Her first tournament… and this was what she could expect from people?
The grin on her face was goofy and silly, and Pyrrha fought hard to turn it down, into a simple, if pleasant smile. Something the announcer picked up on instantly.
"Why, Diamond, look at her humility! Tempering her exuberance for the crowd, good showing of proper familial bonds and an excellent understanding of politeness!"
Something about the way that he'd said it left a part of Pyrrha's gut feeling… squirming. She didn't know why, but it just felt… wrong to her.
"Indeed, Barney! In any case, let us not delay any further. Contestants, you may begin when the starting gun fires!"
A young woman, clad in a beautiful, ceremonial set of Mistrali armor, all flowing lines and an elegant cape and sash, strode into the arena, she hefted a matchlock dust rifle older than the Nikos name in one hand, and bore a blindfold of deepest black across her eyes. She raised the rifle to her shoulders, and squeezed the trigger.
Before the retort of the shot even finished sounding across the arena, Pyrrha was moving, shooting across the sands of the arena, and rushing down her opponent.
Clove darted to the left, but as she did so, Pyrrha caught a glimpse of her opponent's eyes widening unexpectedly.
The urge to slightly smile came over her. She may have the muscle memory and skill, but she didn't have the battlefield experience, and that was something that Pyrrha could easily, evenly exploit.
The other girl flicked her glaive up, and the weapon barked, one of the barrels recoiling into its housing as a spray of icicles emerged from the blade of the glaive. Pyrrha twisted to one side and threw herself to the side, skating just under the spray as it impacted the sand behind her. Her spear and shield flew to her grip, and she brought herself down into a low crouch, when no further spray of icicles came, that told her that the ammunition or charging of the mechanism was slow, but powerful. It was then equally likely that the other barrels contained other types of dust.
She pushed her aura to her legs and leapt to one side as the other girl's glaive soared through the space and carved a deep furrow into the sand.
Pyrrha began to exhale, and felt her lips twitch, curling ever so slightly upwards. Certainly, the other girl's skills were on par, if not exceeding her own… but she didn't have the experience to leverage all that skill.
Pyrrha leaps into the air, shield presented forwards.
The buckshot blast of earth and fire dust ignites the air between herself and Clove and sends Pyrrha slamming into the ground, coughing as her breath is knocked from her lungs. The impact was seconded by her instinctual roll, and the massive glaive slamming into the sand beside her. Pyrrha saw the other girl's eyes widened, and a smile curved her face up, that rage bubbling in her eyes.
It was as if Clove didn't even… see her, for Pyrrha. Her thoughts were elsewhere. A thought that was confirmed moments later when that girl purred out something in a voice that lacked any warmth or life.
"I'll kill you, Cinder."
Pyrrha had a moment to react as that glaive came down towards her neck, and she did so with her semblance. Feeling her arm muscles shriek in agony as her body was pulled by her armguard out of the way, the glaive smashing into the ground next to her as she narrowly evaded the blade, a few strands of red hair floating downwards.
"Who's Cinder!?"
Pyrrha finds herself barking, desperately fighting to keep her smile polite and professional, even as a pang of desperate fear runs through her shoulders. This girl is insane, beyond it, and Pyrrha wants to shoot an accusing look towards her sponsors, towards the people who set up this fight, towards her parents, but as the girl charges her again, her glaive sweeps a lethal strike at Pyrrha's femoral artery.
The impact on her shield shakes her arm and has Pyrrha gritting her teeth so hard she feels as though they're about to crack from the force. Her forearm hurts, and she knows she'll have a furious bruise there later.
But first, surviving.
Clove's kick catches her in the chest as she tries to thrust her spear at her, while Pyrrha scores a hit, a long, gloaming cut on the other girl's knee, her kick smashes Pyrrha into the dirt and knocks the spear from her hand.
It says something that the other girl's already moving even as Pyrrha's raising her shield up, attacking with abandon and ferocious joy.
The impact sets her teeth rattling in her skull as Clove's glaive slams a blast of buckshot into the metal and wood. Pyrrha feels the shield crack, along with a surge of agony as her arm bruises from the impact, Clove's frantic motions sawing the blade back and forth at the tear in the metal of her shield.
She needs to think, needs a moment to reconsider, Clove doesn't fight like a tournament fighter, she fights like an animal, her skills taken from real huntresses. Against a human opponent, she manifests that into an endless series of rushdown attacks, which means Pyrrha has to keep her at a distance.
She struggles and shifts the shield, pulsing her aura along the jagged rend in the steel coating, forcing it to deflect the glaive rather than let it bite deep, waiting for the right moment.
It comes with a roar, as Clove raises the weapon and jams it towards Pyrrha, and she lets the aura on the rend fail as the blade bites deep, punching through the wood, through the back and into her arm, skating off of her aura in a flurry of red sparks and leaving a thin, long line.
But it is what Pyrrha has been waiting for, and she twists her body, yanking Clove off balance and forwards just enough.
The crunch the other girls nose makes as Pyrrha slams her foot into it is enough to make her wince, and it sends Clove off of Pyrrha, letting her wrench the woman's glaive free of her arm. She rises slowly, panting, holding the glaive in her relatively undamaged arm.
A clicking noise, the weapons reloading mechanism?
Pyrrha checked the barrels, as Clove slowly stood up, some amount of blood fountaining from her nose. So her aura didn't protect her? She was more inexperienced than Pyrrha thought.
The two settled down, circling each other and watching carefully. Pyrrha's blood roars in her ears, the announcer muffled utterly, a single glance shows Clove's aura lower than hers, but only barely. Pyrrha holds the glaive one handed, infusing it slowly with her own aura, taking over and feeling it extend her reach. The weapon is unwieldy with a shield in her hand, and she would need to shift its position to use the glaive more accurately.
"Your fault…"
The mutter translates barely, and then Clove is moving again, and this time, she moves in a blur.
Pyrrha can't help herself, she starts to smile, here is someone who can challenge her, who has challenged her!
Time to win, then.
Flashy tournament moves made for spectacle, and Pyrrha knew that's what her family were expecting. As Clove struck low with Pyrrha's spear, Pyrrha flung the glaive with the aid of her semblance. Superhuman strength, augmented by telekinetic control, shot the glaive into Clove's cloak and hood, driving the girl into the air, something Pyrrha missed zero time indulging.
She flipped upwards, launching off the ground, her own spear rocketing past her until she snagged it with the leading edge of her semblance, sending it back to her hand, nudging it just a bit, a part of her saw Clove's eyes widen as she finally figured out Pyrrha's semblance, as she came about finally to realizing why this wasn't a fight anymore.
The kick smashed into Clove's neck and sent her spinning towards the ground. The followup as Pyrrha let gravity take her, her spear angled towards the other girl. She fell, and let the rushing wind and her roaring blood speak for her.
Clove had a split second to look surprised and try to roll out of the way, but all that meant was Pyrrha shifted her spear to the left, and plunged it into the girl's aura butt first, before slamming her shield into her forehead, plastering her into the ground.
Clove let out a single whine of agony, and went still.
There was silence for a moment, only the pounding of Pyrrha's heart and the gasping of her breath as the world began to reassert itself. Colors fading back in as she blinked from surprise…
Had that been it? After all that showing, after all that bluster and that fantastic early bout… had Clove not been able to counter an aerial attack?
Pyrrha frowned, even as cheers began from the audience. It didn't feel right, didn't feel earned, she was still deep in thought, that when Clove stirred from beneath her, she got up, and extended a hand, which was swatted aside.
The woman glared at Pyrrha, glared with a gaze full of emotion that made Pyrrha shiver from proximity. She didn't know how to respond as Clove spat a mix of blood and saliva into the arena, and on autopilot bowed to her opponent.
Why had it felt good to beat her down? Why did Pyrrha like that she'd won when her opponent's blood had coated her shield?
She cast a gaze towards the dull disc of steel, her shield, now with a rend torn right through it. She could see the sand in the arena through that tear. The dull drying blood of Clove, seeping off the shield and into the sand below, Pyrrha stood there in the applause, and felt… unfulfilled.
As if she'd been cheated.
She barely felt the arms of the attendant take her and nudge her towards the locker rooms, towards the exits.
She continued to feel that sense of unfulfillment long after the award had been given, long after she had waited alone, at the edge of the arena, still in her greaves and armor, for her sister, released from duty, to arrive and collect her.
"You won!"
Helena's exuberance is the first thing that Pyrrha can clearly remember from the aftermath of the fight, her sister's warmth and embrace, the joy in her eyes.
That joy mixed with hidden agony, of course, the mere fact that Athena and Alexander were not there, had not picked up their own daughter.
"Are you ok, Pyrrha?"
She nodded numbly, before replying.
"She was weak… all that skill, and no experience or thought to put it into place… she hated me."
"Your opponent, you mean?"
Pyrrha nodded.
"Why do you think she hated you?"
"She didn't even seem to know who I was, and kept calling me"Cinder "."
The wind sailor dove suddenly, Helena's grip on the controls seizing.
"You don't think…"
"I don't know, how would they have interacted?"
Pyrrha and Helena looked at each other.
"She hated me… really hated Cinder too, I don't know why."
They sat in silence, the sailor recovering as it swept lower.
"How was work?"
Helena startled at the sudden question.
"Oh… you know, repressing the protestors… had to actually suppress a group that broke the line near the harbor…"
She trailed off. Pyrrha gently touched her shoulder and looked at her as she continued.
"I'm not sure why… it just… everything feels strange these days. People are attacking each other for no reason, half the police forces from Atlas won't respond, and the captain keeps giving Ironwood the run around."
The sailor flew lower, heading for the terrace, and Pyrrha froze slightly, staring evenly at her mother and father standing below her in the courtyard.
Athena wore a long, flowing gown and carried nothing in her hands, and Alexander stood near an Atlesian airship, the two stood there, watching Helena's wind sailor drop ever lower towards the ground until the small ship skidded to a stop, and gently lowered its wings. Each sailor was customized by its owner, and Helena's had been no different, adorned with rich textures of clothlike paint, and wind dust traced into the wood itself.
As it slowed to a stop, Pyrrha rose, and Helena stopped her with a hand, gently reaching out.
"Pyrrha… I have to go back on duty, but… if you need something, call me, ok?"
Pyrrha nodded, her feelings numb.
Alexander was the first to greet her, his booming baritone soaring across the field as he spoke.
"Pyrrha my girl! You fulfilled expectations!"
His voice was boisterous, and yet… Pyrrha felt alone.
"You have done adequately."
Her mother's tone was flat and cold, and it chilled Pyrrha just to hear it.
She shivered, and Alexander and Athena turned away from her, and walked into that gunship.
She was left alone, then, as the airship took off, and her hair whipped in the wind as the vessel took to the skies.
Helena was gone, and she'd fulfilled expectations. Athena and Alexander, mother and father, had left her, and as Pyrrha wandered into the empty halls of her family home.
The cold sitting room, once a place full of roaring fires and laughter, as Alexander told her the stories of the heroes of the past. It surrounded Pyrrha now, pressing in and covering her skin completely with its siphoning chill.
When had things taken such a turn? When had the world plummeted its warmth into someone else, when had it all collapsed around her?
Pyrrha wasn't sure how long she sat in that house, wasn't really sure how long that she'd been staring there, but she was startled abruptly when she felt a hand touch against her shoulder. She turned to face the person who had touched up against her, and saw flashing green eyes and a vicious smile on her face.
No one heard her scream.
A/N: Yeah… uh, been a bit, sorry everyone, IRL happened and I lost track of time, then writers block. But I hope you all enjoy anyways!