Pit Prep. Day 6 (solo)

[Valorae]

7 Winter 511 A.V. -- Night Eyes Underground The morning had been routine, cold sweats and rapid breathing. Each coming of the sun had Valorae in a nervous fit as she wondered if it was the day. The day she’d walk through that door for, perhaps, the last time out into the burning sun for whatever conflict the Blood Pits entailed. Would Syna see her then, lying bloodied and stripped bare only to resemble onto a broken reflection of what she truly was. Valorae kept thinking back to this morning with Eva’s squealing under the bed. Maybe she had a nightmare too, or could she even feel for Valorae. Valorae brought her things and was physically ready to get to work. The pains in her body, that ever present dullness that struck her with sharp stabbing sensations when she moved the wrong way, were another challenge. It was in her abdomen, her arms, her legs, her neck, and her chest. This whole mortal seeming, even in the heightened state of the Ethaefal’s divine reflection, was a burden in comparison to what was. It was all so much to bear. Too much? Maybe… There wasn’t a hesitation to start working. Valorae knew she would be limited today, but she also knew to stay loose. The last thing she’d need is to hurt herself. If she was going to do this right then she’d need to learn all this sword was capable of. It would become an extension of her body, the extra reach to the man’s heart that was so full of intent to hurt her. Or would it be a woman’s? She was preparing herself not to fight. Nothing stopped other women. What a conflict it would be. To be cut by other woman with this same feeling of utter loss would be disturbing. It was cruel enough to know she would be fighting others for the sake of their own lives, but she was starting to give them faces, lives, families… What a disguise, what a mask… Valorae’s face was still as she started in her exercises and thus shielded all hints of her inner turmoil. They wouldn’t see her cry. She’d hide her pain behind faces of disgust, anger, and sickness. It wasn’t a lie of course. She was angry with this world and full of disgust of its people and all it has become. To say she felt sickened was an understatement however. Valorae was full of absolute hatred for the world she was in now. Sunberth - that stain on Mizahar’s east coast where Syna rises over head to welcome the coming of a new day – had been her welcome party back into the world since her fall from the Ukalas. What a first impression, now years after her death! The Mizahar she recalled seemed so much older, full of wild creatures, order and efficiency, the tigers… Sunberth didn’t make sense. Valorae, sword in hand, sat down and reached forward for her toes, her thin waist bending forward with ease as she reached the ends and over. Hold it… She tried to hold onto the memory of what had all happened, how one second she was among friends in Syna’s domain, and the next deep in the water with the dead. In her days as an ethaefal, she had the time to ponder these things. How she got here was a big one. Did she remember the abyss between the lovers’ realms, the gap she fell through, the shattered air, a scar of the divines’ war? Just where she fell through the dimensional gap, and into the ocean was a mystery, save for it was some ‘where’, or some ‘when’ as the Goddess of the Sun washes over the world for the first time at each day. How Syna would forget her was another mystery, or again why she had done so little to recollect her coveted souls. And release. Valorae wiggled her toes before crossing her leg over, her skin so smooth and surreal in appearance. Valorae wondered if it was as strong as the actual stone of this world. She stared at is, wondering, just about other things. She grabbed her knee and reached around stretching her abdomen and legs. With a grunt, the thought of the how came back. If the fact was she was stranded here, and Syna had paid no attention to her yet, then she’d need to find her way back. Sanctuary was too good to give up so easily. Syna would welcome her again. The warm thought came to her. What would it be like again to frolic with the others in that sanctuary? Would she remember any of this? Would she feel the pain still, or remember the shuddering thoughts? Valorae’s stone face started to break, and she exchanged legs. The good thoughts of that world were shadowed now. Everything bad in this world darkened her entire image of what life, and death, had to offer. Would it be so cowardly to walk out when the day comes and be struck dead outright? Would Syna think any less of her? Did she think less of Valorae already, so little as to leave her lost and alone in this dark room? Valorae pushed her body around the most it could, micro tears forming along her abdomen, her teeth grinding, until she could take no more, and then kept still. The pain, something terrible at first, began to dull as well. It was no less than that first pain, but it became something she was used to, like the dull throbbing in her legs as she walked. Maybe that was just part of the experience, adjusting. Valorae wasn’t yet capable of reflecting of how much she had actually changed. The day she’ll be able to step forward into the sun a free woman again, what a transition it would be.

[Valorae]

The quiet was broken by the approach of a hooded figure. These guys had a knack for the whole mysterious look. Then it hit Valorae. Could it possibly – well yes it could possibly be the day, but was it? The man made no further notion to suggest such. He saw her, and she saw him, but more importantly he saw what she was doing and left her to it. Valorae had relaxed her muscles to check the man out. He trotted through the room as if he’d been here before. The shadowed gaze looked over at her sword, and she tightened her grip. A break in the shadow, a smirk, a smirk crossed his face. She knew she was being read, and she was struggling to keep up. “You’re here to help me train?” The man let his head rock between his shoulders in a gesture that said “maybe.” He wasn’t there to precisely help her, but he might be able to help whip her into shape. It seemed clear he wasn’t supposed to talk to her. A verbal answer would have been much simpler. It was a test of her patience, perhaps. Valorae didn’t mean to keep anyone waiting. She’d been eager for this moment. Her breathing changed as her thoughts drifted. Help train? Maybe he has a key? Valorae saw this as a greater opportunity than a training exercise. It could be freedom. Valorae had the sword in hand. The man had taken one of its worn twins in his own hand. Valorae had the split-minute decision to make: freedom now or later? Have I not waited long enough? Gods be with me… Her pace quickened, and the man’s grin grew wider.

[Valorae]

They jumped at it. Valorae’s free play with the sword had helped her train to swing, although it wasn’t necessarily the most effective. She was stiff and paid for such. Valorae swung wildly at the man’s head as if it were the dummy to stand still again. He stepped back, a light chuckle escaping him. Valorae’s marble skin began to blush. He readied his sword in a fashion that commanded she strike again. Perhaps she got her wish, a trainer after all. She’d need to fight for freedom though, if indeed he had a key. Valorae lowered herself into the stance, her sword ready. The man mimicked her in his own style. They squared off like two elder swordsman about to spar for play, each taking the light steps around the midpoint of their bodies. She was being read all over, her hesitation, her breathing. She wanted out, and was so nervous about it, and did not care to hide it. This man, however, felt no concern, or showed none. Valorae is, was, and always will be a screamer. With a shriek, Valorae lunged forward with her faux blade, still holding intent to break skin and spill blood – her inner Myrian coming to life. A hollow clank echoed through the room as the wood hit the sword, and again with Valorae’s wild swinging. Her wrist bent back with each strike. She noticed his didn’t and made the conscious effort to keep a poor guise. Valorae reset, lowering her guard and preparing her hands for the next strike. She made a mistake of course, and her trainer went to correct her, promptly. The man’s sword glided from his side with elegance. The sword cracked the back of her hand and stripped the sword from her. Just as she thought she was undone, and prepared herself to kick, punch, bite, or whatever it would take to get out, the sword tip was at her throat. The man grabbed her collar bone with a familiar and uncomfortable strength. Valorae’s eyes widened. The sword tip was merely tapped back on her neck, and the pressure applied a bit more to exaggerate her mistake. Keep your guard up, always. The sword was pulled away and the man made space between the two once more. Valorae read him wrong again, expecting calm. No more than five feet away, he was lunging at her again to give her a proper crack. Valorae tumbled away for her sword, suffering a strike to her leg. “Skurak,” Valorae cursed; the sting in her skin felt like venom alright. The tigress began to roar in Myrian tongue, but it made no impression. The man merely shrugged and went after her again. Valorae wasn’t prepared for this. The downward swipe for her face was blocked with little success. The blade, her arm, her body all shifted downward as he struck her sword. He didn’t let her go more than three times before taking a strike at her hand. Valorae shifted the hilt to the side to get the center of her blade to take the strike. The man saw this, and struck heavier. With her guard broken, Valorae made the instinctive kick to the man’s pride. The first sound that wasn’t a laugh echoed the room. Valorae stood up and prepared herself for him. Wait, what? She stood and waited preparing herself? Maybe she was a gladiator, only now there was no crowd to cheer her mercy or elongation of suffering. The man was huddled still groaning and coughing.

[Valorae]

The man huddled over more yet. Valorae knew he wasn’t dead, but maybe she could get the key off of him. He must have had a key. It wasn’t like anyone was coming to save her. The cold truth was starting to click. Once outside, Syna would find her, surely. How she’d get outside would just be the next challenge. Valorae kept her sword in hand and moved closer, keeping her guard up. Valorae reached around the back, catching his belt and reaching around. The man grunted as she felt around. Valorae was looking at the wall with the floor on one side of her face in an instant. The man had twirled over her and shoved her down, tossing the sword further away. His hood covered him still, some shaded figure of darkness. Valorae slapped and kicked under the man’s weight. He laughed and gave her a punch across the face, and another. It was learning the hard way, but to her it was all too reminiscent of the summer. She was screaming again and punching back with little power. Her sore body was a minor effort. The glowing skin of the Ethaefal was being smothered in the earth again. She gave him a scratch on the face with her nails, and grabbed up at his face while he held her down. She was screaming, “No, no,” in horrible tones that called back dark events. Sunberth knew these screams well enough, didn’t they? It gave off all the wrong signals. Valorae kicked, scratched, and pulled at everything she could, but couldn’t get him to curl back up like she did before, not from here. Valorae grabbed the front of the hood and jerked it down then pulled it back over. Her ornamental horns did her no good. For the first time, even at the awkward angle, in the poor lighting, she saw the face of her captors. He was young, and a bit rugged. He must have lived a stressful life, and moments like this only justified his rash behavior. There probably was no easy living in this place. Her efforts to fend him off lessened as she focused on his face and the dirt brown eyes. She took another slash at his face, her palm whacking his cheek and her nails carving a path after. He shouted again and delivered a good punch to the cheek before he started to strangle her. The whites of her eyes showed themselves again as she started to helplessly fidget under him. He wasn’t so heavy or big, just she was so weak and tired right now. Where this the Blood Pits she’d be long dead. Heh, worse yet, she was dead before she even got out there. Valorae looked around for something as her breathing was cut off. The seconds were precious, and lasted so long. The grip on her throat only trapped the air from coming in and out, rather than the blood of her neck to cease flowing. Was it really an attempt at murder, or an exercise? The young man’s eyes looked at hers with no remorse regardless. This was payback. Valorae saw the sword, just out of her reach flung across the room. The other side held no promise. He pushed her back down and her head was locked in position by her body and horns. There was just her and him. Valorae slapped at his face, the light starting to dim, her eyes fluttering. She reached for his face, his throat, just out of reach and without the nails to bring him in. Oh gods did she feel stupid when she saw his arms. It was a quick smash with both fists into his inner elbows. His arms bended easily. He was only so strong for that thin, young form. Valorae punched his arms in again and grabbed at his face before she got a hold of his ears and starts to dig her nails in and roll him. She wanted to get on top. The man wouldn’t have it and gave her a few more punches in the face. The pretty ethaefal was getting all roughed up. Bloodied, Valorae knew she needed to get her hands on a sword. Her slapping ceased, and she only punched. With him close enough she somehow got her fist to connect with the man’s throat. He started coughing and reaching for his throat as she pushed him off. It was pathetic. He got sloppy, and she was a mess. Well, she was a mess before, but this was just over the top, half-assed escape plan gone wrong. She had fight in her, she could be given that much, but it was a while to go before anything useful. Was it even worthy to have called unarmed combat, or was it more appropriate to label it as brawling. It seemed to be a drunken Sunberthian specialty. Valorae pushed herself up on her feet somehow and grabbed the sword. She was going to finish this and get out. She was, no one else.

[Valorae]

The man was back on his feet when Valorae approached to strike him, preferably in the head. The man was readied to some misfortune. She swung in, and he blocked with his forearm. It must have stunned from his hisses and grunts, so Valorae kept swinging. She swept in, back out, and spun around for more power, her toes and hips turning systematically for that punch. His pained breathing told her she was winning, and she went in for the kill. She drew the blade back to pierce his heart and stabbed forward. The man stepped back, grabbed her wrist and put his hand to her elbow. She pumped her elbow and then broke her grip on the sword. His arms twisted around hers and locked her up. If she moved the wrong way, he would break it, and that was made clear. There was a whistle from the door. Valorae was discarded quickly, and the man retreated from the room. She didn’t know she was being watched. Valorae was pulled away from the pain of her body by a sound that reached over the flickering flames. It was just a whisper of scorn, but it said so much of her situation. “Get back upstairs right now. It was a simple job and you’re getting beat up by a girl. Boy, she’s no good to us dead. Go, go on…” The muffled grumble of an older man faded away with their padded footsteps. Whoever they were, they were, to some extent, on her side. It was a peculiar relief that she wouldn’t be killed by these people, assuming she behaved herself. Valorae had quite some time left to herself, or so she estimated. The fighting, for all it was worth, couldn’t have lasted so long, could it? Or did the quick paced action of the moment distract her? There were so many unanswered questions, and she had so many more yet to take form. She just had to pray that this incident wouldn’t put her in a poor position with her captors.