Stranger in A Strange Land (Sirii & Satu)

[Satu]

“I have heard stories of Myri’s Legacy. She is Mighty…” Satu said slowly, imagining the goddess before her. “Do you think she would appreciate Weakness and Taint brought to her people? The Jungle does not want them, yet still, they are brought here, past your walls into Taloba! To eat! I do not think she would be pleased, if her people are deficient because of that error in judgement.” Satu spoke her mind and the words flowed without thought. That a Myrian might take offense at the fanatical statements never crossed the Konti’s mind. Siiri would never understand! Looking intent, Satu grew frustrated and again tried to explain, “Perhaps she would be disappointed… For her city to grow, her people need to war with the most Powerful… not the Cowardly. Would Myri be proud to see you eat spoiled meat? Would she call that lazy?” “I am just a deyhan. You think me naïve…” She said with a lift of her head, pretty lips full of contempt. The word had been spoken so many times during her short stay that Satu had picked up the meaning of it. Standing there, she looked vulnerable, like a young woman from a story tale, in a strange combination of Myrian and Konti clothing, facing off against a hardened warrior much larger than herself. “I am a stranger. But I have eyes to see what familiarity has clouded for you! Myri wants you strong? Give her fierce! Don’t let your own foolishness drag you from greatness! Myri killed the god, Sirii. Myri is the powerful one! Do your people do her enough justice? Do you give her more than she asks? Or simply what you have always given her? Would Myri not want more? She deserves more!” Myri deserved more adoration, Satu believed. But the Konti also craved more violence that that kind of worship was sure to bring. Her words made sense, if anyone would stop and listen. But like so many victims of abuse, Satu unknowingly turned and sought out the very things that were the cause of her original pain. Violence. Aggresssion. Rage. The HeartSeer now accepted them all into her once pure Heart. “I do not cower in front of you Myrian, and your threats do not scare me.” Satu’s laugh was like a hundred tiny, sliver bells chiming as she looked at Siiri’s presented weapon “And certainly, that unwieldy thing does not scare me! My suvai would dance around that club, as the hummingbirds flit around nectar.” After her stay at Opportunity, Fear did not affect the HeartSeer as it once had. What, she reasoned in her subconscious mind, could be done to her that had not already been done? The sanity that Satu had lost in that short timeframe could not be lost again. “How little you know, of force and of might… again it seems you are short sighted.” The tension between the two women mounted, neither willing to back down. Charging about them, the air stilled in anticipation. The telltale signs were there as the energy churned, the energy of battles and contests. Satu watched Siiri’s Heart, seething and boiling as it blossomed into red, red Anger. The Konti’s pulse quickened as her own Fury flared to match the Myrian’s. So enraptured was Satu by the emotional display, that she did not use her Gift for forewarning. And when it hinted to her of Siiri’s next move a fraction of a second before it occurred, Satu was too caught up in the richness of emotions to see it. The suvai fighter was left open and unguarded, too slow to react.

[Siiri]

“Meat is meat, fool Konti!” Siiri spat out at the convoluted logic of the fragile-looking woman. It must make some sort of sense to Satu but it was complete gibberish to the Myrian. Her people made use of everything, they put nothing to waste. Weak, strong, young or old, light-skinned or dark, if it was not one of their own, they would willingly eat the flesh off the person's bones – and then use that person's bones for tools and implements. It was a very efficient system, something the Konti did not understand.

At all.

“You use our words, deyhan, thinking you know its meaning. Stranger. Outsider. These are true. There's also a shorter meaning to it: food.” She bared her teeth at Satu, anger barely contained. “That could easily have been you being eaten back there. Count your blessings!”

It was like arguing with a brick wall however: solid, unyielding and unhearing. Satu went on with her tirade, ever spouting truths that only made sense to her. They only served to enrage the Myrian before her, however. Had Siiri been a spectator to the scene they were unfolding before everyone else, with a head unclouded by twisted words of an unhinged stranger, she would have realized that the words were taunts, goading their target to more intense level of anger. Unfortunately, that target happened to be her, and the Konti's speech worked beautifully, swaying her to the direction it wanted her to take.

Siiri snapped, her anger and rage now unchecked by her limited restraints on them. Her hand, backed by Myrian muscle, shot out, colliding with Satu's cheek in a resounding slap. The Konti might have looked surprised or shocked had she had time, but before she could even react to the assault, the return swing followed, hitting her other cheek with a backhand.

“Shut up!” Siiri hissed, her voice, passioned by anger before, was now icy cold. “You think you know of Strength, of Power? Still you wagging tongue and show it to me then!” One handed, she swing her greatsword in an impressive flourish, shattered the any illusion that it may be a cumbersome weapon. The inherent power behind her muscles, coupled with her goddess' mark, lent her the speed to match any light weapon. Her greatsword's movements may have seemed unrefined to an expert's eye, but the warrioress knew she didn't need finesse to inflict damage with the massive blade. Its size simply spoke for itself.

Oni be damned, why did she have to bring such a big mouth into the city?

“Draw your little pricklers and prove to me why you should be standing there rather than spitted like a pig for me to feast on!”

[Satu]

The slap resounded across the courtyard. And then another sounded directly on its heels as Siiri backhanded her other cheek. The second blow almost knocked Satu over, the force behind it was so strong. The Konti’s lighter frame had not the muscle mass that the Myrian carried, and as it was she had to right herself back to standing upright. Lifting her head, slightly stunned, Satu blinked away the impact. But as her face came up with its bright, red cheeks, she did not have the look of someone who had just been forcibly stuck. Anyone else would have glared at Siiri in Rage, or Shock, or Astonishment. But the Konti did none of these things. Instead incredibly, the corners of Satu’s mouth tugged upwards and she smiled, fiercely. It was a cunning smile, and it travelled to her eyes. It was the smile of someone immensely pleased with themselves, and a tremor ran along her spine. Siiri was Enraged! A tempest of Fury thundered, wild and unchecked, into the HeartSeer’s Heart. It filled her and made her whole. And Satu welcomed it in. Immediately, her hands dropped to the suvai and the Konti’s eyes sparkled menacingly, for one so seemingly dainty. Even as Siiri brandished the sword smoothly in front of her, Satu was pleased. The Myrian’s blade was finely wielded, of that there was no doubt. But to a Konti trained facing opponents wielding the lighting fast suvai, the larger weapon appeared slow and cumbersome. Especially, as Siiri’s emotions gave Satu a fraction of a second warning to her actions. It was an eerily calm voice that answered the woman, “Neither strength nor power will you see!” Pulling both suvai out, Satu pointed the three-pronged whale horns at her attacker. Rapidly the suvai began to spin effortlessly in her hands. “Brutal force, that is all you know!” The Konti’s movements spoke silently of her dedicated training and she moved effortlessly into the Current of the Wind Stance. Her weapons stopped suddenly, still and silent and waiting. With calculation in her gaze, she sized Siiri up, “I am surprised the Jungle chose you…, you are very Unaware.” Sunlight glinted through the trees, and reflected gleaming off her weapons. The suvai began to spin again, and as her wrists turned, the faster they spun. Stepping sideways, Satu moved lightly on the balls of her feet. Riding the imaginary wind currents, suddenly the suvai circled. Their whirling blades missed nicking the Myrians’ skin by a hair’s breath. Satu’s arms rotated to the left, trying to catch the mighty sword in the suvai’s prongs and slide Siiri’s forearms down and away with the pressure. The right whale bone slightly behind the left, slashed upwards in its own movement in an attack on Siiri’s core. Then just as quickly, Satu tried to dance away from the long reach of Siiri’s angry sword, an attack would certainly be forthcoming. Heatedly Satu hissed, “Your lips shall not touch my flesh!” It was a challenge.

[Siiri]

Siiri has never run across anyone who smiled after being hit with such heavy-handed blows. Did she enjoy it? Satu's mad grin only served to fuel her anger more. The woman was unnatural, strange. Why did beings like her existed?! Even her fighting style was bizarre!

Undaunted by the Konti’s flashy display of control of her dual blades, Siiri ignored the dagger-like weapons and barreled forth with a mighty swing intended to decapitate. She didn’t know how other races dueled, but Myrians did with the intention of harm, to kill. It kept their instincts sharp, their reflexes hones. Perhaps this outlandish woman-child would be overwhelmed by such savagery and fold under the first onslaught, begging for clemency for her thoughtless words before.

But, no, Satu seemed to understand the ways of her people, or at least accepted it, and she met Siiri’s blade gamely. Not head-on, for that would have been suicide for the fragile-looking woman, but she worked to trap the larger Myrian’s blade between hers, to disarm or deflect. Siiri yanked her greatsword forcefully from the clinch, almost running into another one of Satu’s lightning fast strikes. The attack, and the opening it presented, was pulled back and closed before Siiri could even execute a counter. As much as she hated to admit it, the pale-skinned bitch was good.

So good in fact that Siiri realized that her strength coupled with Myri’s mark that granted her speed and accuracy in her strikes would only be just enough for her to keep up with Satu’s skill with her own weapons. The insight only served to enrage the warrior further. She will not be showboated by a deyhan in her own city!

“Before this day is done, Konti, your blood will stain my lips,” she swore through gritted teeth.

Talented with the suvai Satu may be, Siiri had taken part in more battles than the other woman might have seen in her longer lifetime. Experience, she knew, will be the deciding factor in this duel.

Charging forward once more, Siiri stabbed with her greatsword. She had no doubt the nimble Satu could dodge it in time, but if she guessed right, the smaller woman wouldn’t be able to dodge the follow up punch she would throw her way.

[Satu]

In the warm jungle city, Satu’s spiral suvai handles felt cool, almost comforting in her grip. And as they turned and twisted, she also noticed their smoothness in her palms. In contrast to this instantaneous mediation of her weapons, was Siiri, Savage in her emotions and in her Heart. The HeartSeer felt the Jungle beat in her opponent, Death to the Unwary! Angry and Wild. While she herself, she reasoned, was the calm of the blue ocean waters. It was in this state, in these imagined waters that the Suvai Fighter now moved, riding the graceful currents as Sirii stabbed forcefully with the heavy, earthly sword. Satu, immersed in the world of Laviku danced easily away. Using her momentum she rotated her body around and the Myrian’s follow-up punch travelled harmlessly through her flying hair. But her suvai, always a part of her, followed dangerously behind to stab at Siiri’s now retreating hand. And the other reached out with her dual wield in a lower, yet opposite strike. The thought registered, the Myrian wanted to kill her. The Myrian wanted to kill her! The dark of the Jungle was in Siiri, Satu believed, and the thought continued... Siiri was the dark of the Jungle… Siiri tried to kill her. The Jungle was testing her! It was a game. A game that made Siiri Wild, made Siiri’s emotions Wild... Satu wanted to feel more! The warrior must be pushed further! Satu’s face shone with a feral look. To look upon her was to see a confusing mix of her calm Konti heritage and this other, untamed, eccentric self. “My blood shall not drop upon your lips, or upon the ground!” She spat back, like a feral magnificent beast, “Instead, I think that soon your lips shall kiss my feet!”

[Siiri]

She missed!

The prancing, dancing, fairy queen evaded her attacks as if they were child's play. And she retaliated with such weak strikes that totally insulted Siiri's warrior pride. Satu might as well have told her she was not worth fighting, with the paltry amount of force she put behind her blows! The insolence! The arrogance! The Konti derided her with her flighty moves, shaming her in front of her comrades. Her taunts only magnified the unspoken insults. Siiri gritted her teeth in frustration at the disrespect. She would have wanted nothing more than to beat her pale face in for it but the smaller woman was as slippery as a slimy frog.

The stab that punctured her left arm hardly slowed Siiri, though she pulled back from the follow up attack. It was but a momentary retreat for the woman who was too stubborn to give even an inch away in a fight, however. As soon as her opponent's weapon cleared out of the way, she was charging once more, slashing every which way in an attempt to catch Satu even with just a glancing blow. It infuriated her that the Konti could so easily weave in and out of her range, inflict stinging stabs with her ridiculously small weapons, and dodge back out into safety – all without Slayer touching her. It was as if she could read her every move!

The minor hits from Satu’s suvai hardly caused Siiri much damage, despite her left arm being riddled with near a dozen cuts and scrapes from the weapon as she had been using that limb to shield herself from the Konti’s attacks and also used it as a visual block to obscure where her greatsword would come from. When Satu overcomitted in one of her strikes, a perfect opportunity presented itself, one that would surely hew the small woman’s arm off if successfully delivered – and if she dared Oni’s wrath by doing so. Siiri did not hesitate however, not caring for the moment who Oni was and what she was to her current opponent. All she cared about was shutting the pale bitch’s mouth up.

Siiri raised both arms high to deliver the devastating blow, already grinning savagely as she pictured the look on the Konti’s face after she lost her arm – oh, but she would be gnawing on Konti flesh tonight! – when, suddenly, her own arm dropped of on its own accord, unfeeling and nerveless. Left with one arm to wield it, Slayer wavered unsteadily as it descended, allowing Satu to just barely evade its deadly kiss, though it still sheared off a lock of her light-colored hair.

Stunned by what had happened, Siiri drew back, staring at her lifeless arm as if it had betrayed her. She mentally commanded it to move, to hold Slayer once more, even just to wiggle fingers on that hand, but to no avail. It was just… numb. Dead. Unfeeling. She whirled at Satu, accusation in her eyes.

“You cheating bitch! You dare use your Konti witchcraft on me?!”

Despite the setback, Siiri resumed the fight, stubbornly wielding her weapon one-handed. Slayer moved in an ungainly arc, slow, awkward and wobbly. The Myrian’s attempt to hurt Satu would even be more fruitless than it had been before, apparently.

[Satu]

Satu danced, spinning with the suvai in hand. Air, heavy with humidity, brushed against her skin, and it shone with perspiration. The suvai fighter was in her element, graceful and defensive in movement, yet rapid to attack. The Konti style, so very fluid and dancelike made the Myrian fighting style appear almost brutal and primal in comparison. With deadly precision the HeartSeer stepped to the beat of Siiri’s Wrath and Frustration. After a time, the small nicks and cuts from the suvai’s strikes were mapped along Siiri’s blocking arm and Satu purred inwardly as small wounds accumulated. She said nothing, content to bide her time. Force was not a required for winning a battle, but patience always was. Siiri, the Konti thought, had not yet learned this lesson; too intent was she on making the killing blow. Often, she led with her heavy and angry emotions, and this transparency allowed Satu to stay one step ahead of the warrior’s attacks. The emotions gave her away every time. The great sword swung mightily and Satu dodged it again and again, barely skipping away at the last moment. If the blade made contact just once, Satu would be seriously injured. Countering, the twin blades moved separately, but as one with her dual wield. She had to keep moving! After a time, her rapid movements caught up with her; and she misjudged Siiri’s reactions and left herself exposed. Blue eyes widened as she realized the mistake too late. The suvai fighter resigned herself to her fate as the sword swung high, and Siiri’s beautifully, arrogant face looked down at her, ready to deal an unforgiving attack. It was too late to parry or dodge. There was nothing to feel, but Acceptance. In the stillness of that frozen moment, Siiri’s grin became her world, and Siiri’s sword became her doom. And then the unthinkable happened…. That sword wavered, and the warrior’s arm dropped unexpectedly. A fiery gleam blazed briefly in the Konti’s gaze, as Satu welcomed the timing that fortune had smiled upon her. Patience rewarded! The suvai had done its work! Satu managed to shift her weight away from the still dropping sword, but the weapon’s momentum was gone with the strength of the arm. Thankfully, only a small section of trailing hair was still in its path as the sword descended. It would be a reminder to the suvai fighter to take extra care. Satu claimed the Myrians grin as her own as she stood straight once more and faced her Enraged opponent. But Satu’s own grin quickly faded into a scowl at the Myrian’s foolish words. Could their fundamental ideas be any more different? Again, the two clashed, unable to understand the other’s culture. It surprised Satu that such basic ideas needed to be explained; every Konti girl learned at a young age, how weapons were viewed as an extension of the self. “I am a Suvai Fighter. I am the suvai, and they are a continuation of me. We move together, as one… As that unwieldy thing is a part of you! There is no cheat in this! Only a lack of knowledge in you!” And Siiri was at her again! Attacking with Anger and her sword, she was one handed and clumsy, but the Myrian did not give up. As the large weapon was slowed considerably, dodging became easier. Satu moved suddenly sideways, the suvai spinning in rhythm, but moving in different directions. The leading suvai moved to trap the great sword within its prongs, and the second came around, spinning madly until it reached the sword as well and moved to reinforce the other weapon. With leverage from her strong wrists, Satu shifted her grip, twisting her own weapons to force Siiri’s grip on the sword to loosen and cause the weapon to drop. Satu felt it begin to slip, but Siiri was stronger than she realized, and Satu needed more leverage. As she applied more pressure, she turned her body slightly and the sword finally gave, but with it, went one of Satu’s suvai. Both weapons dropped to the ground, Satu’s being the lighter weapon travelled farther before it hit the dirt. She cursed at the loss, but she still had one weapon at hand. Proudly the Konti stood, chest rising and falling with her breath, “Admit it Myrian, you have lost.” There was a cruelty in her eyes and venom in her voice that grew with each exchange between the two women. “Perhaps this night I should become a meat eater myself! But then again, I abhor Weakness...” Satu anticipated Siiri’s Heart response to this comment would be spectacular and her eyes narrowed, waiting for the explosion to come. Her suvai lowered slightly in expectation.

[Siiri]

Even one-handed, Siiri could have held on her own against any other Myrian by using Slayer defensively, blocking any powerful attacks that came her way while retaliating with her body through kicks, knees or elbows, depending on what opening her opponent left her. But the Konti fought differently, as proven by Satu's style. The smaller woman did not seek to deliver blows that would kill or decapitate, she sought to disarm and disable. Was she aiming to achieve victory by shaming her opponent by denying her glorious death, seeking instead disarmament so she could finish the fight at her leisure, like a tiger cub playing with a terrified rabbit?

Siiri could not accept such dishonor and she renewed her efforts into dealing even just a glancing blow against the Konti. It was difficult, for her numb arm would get in the way of her movements, serving to unbalance her and causing her to overextend in her swings or throw off the aim of her strikes. Better if it had been cut off so it did not flail about so, like a body part with a life of its own. The Myrian had even considered hacking off the limb during a pause in the fight if only to even the odds against her opponent. She didn't get the chance however, for the Konti caught Slayer in one of the wild swings, trapping the blade between her deviously designed weapons. Siiri had only seen such a move executed before, when Kash'jiya trapped a spear between her massive swordbreakers, shattering the wooden shaft of her opponent's weapon. Satu's blades weren't as big nor did she possess the strength of a Myrian warrior but she was still a fight who knew the limit of her own power. The Konti tested it then against Siiri, her pale arms straining to jerk the Myrian's greatsword from her grip.

With only one hand to hold it, Siiri could not get enough leverage to pull her weapon out of the trapping suvais. The opposite forces generated by Myrian and Konti caused Slayer's hilt to slip out of Siiri's sweaty palm, spinning end over end to settle a distance away on the soft earth. Fortunately, it had dragged one of the suvai along with it, throwing the lighter weapon away even farther. Satu only had one weapon to work with now, but Siiri was unarmed – a fact the Konti could not help but rub in her face.

Th fight frustrated her. Satu was every bit as good – better – as she had claimed to be, and it incensed the Myrian to admit it so, even just to herself. The Konti's fighting style left got her off balanced as well. Satu was methodical and cerebral in her approach in the fight, not meeting force head on but always looked for ways around each of the Myrian's attacks to deliver the little stinging bites of her weapons. Siiri was not used to fighting one such as she who did not employ the killing instinct in her every move. Everything in the jungle would always aim to kill, why did this small creature not do the same thing? And now she has disabled her too, and it left her feeling Powerless. She had only experienced such a feeling twice in her lift time – the first was when a fishing trip had robbed her the life of her aunt when two Dhani ambushed their small boat, and the second only days away when hoer own bondmate was mauled in her absence. She hated the feeling of helplessness that came with it.

But she'd be damned if she counted herself out of the fight.

“You do not get it, do you Konti?” Siiri growled at her gloating opponent. “A Myrian is not defeated as long as life still flows in her. You may have taken my Claws but you have only left yourself exposed to my Fangs!”

Satu, were it was because of her self-delusion that she's won the match or something else, seemed distracted and left herself exposed, her blade lowering. Siiri seized the opportunity and capitalized on that one small opening. With a mad glint in her emerald eyes, the Myrian lunged forward and threw a front kick at the last instant, aimed at her opponent's descending hand. If the move hit, it should dislodge the suvai from the Konti's hands, rendering her unarmed as well.

And that would leave her in territory Siiri would dominate.

[Satu]

Powerless! The Myrian felt Powerless! Gloating inwardly, the Konti remembered experiencing that feeling once before. Where was that? Strange that she did not remember. How damaged the Konti must have been to refuse to name that place, even in her mind. Satu laughed aloud! She was morbidly pleased these were not her own emotions. Never again would she feel so lost, so Powerless! And, with Siiri’s crushing weapon gone, Satu knew: this was what Freedom felt like! Her time away from Miazhar had broken something within, though she was unaware of the differences between Before and After. Her internal Divination patterns had changed as well. Now, at a time when Satu needed complete focus to finish the fight with Siiri, the Chavi appeared in her consciousness. The past was present, and her eyes became unfocused and slack, “Not now!” she begged, but it was too late, already she felt the Chavi threads touching her consciousness. There was no stopping the Vision. Paths and trails opened before her as she waded through hundreds of altering strands. She pushed with her hands to part the ribbons, so like walls of seaweed in Laviku’s domain. The battle with Siiri faded into oblivion. There! The Konti saw Siiri, elbows on a pale girl’s shoulders. Words floated, “…vulnerable and exposed with what I’m about to do. Do you trust me? I would not do anything to harm you.” And the girl was choked, lovingly. The Chavi flashed and changed. Satu watched it swirl. Then, a shack and the same girl, Miharu. Satu knew her name. A bath and the overpowering scent of Jasmine. Satu inhaled the sweetness. Pale fingers in Siiri’s hair. Whispered words, loosened muscles. Pleasure! Colourful strands shimmered and floated before Satu’s eyes. Flushed skin, full breasts, Siiri and Miharu, connected and linked. Myrian straddled Kelvic. Breath audible. Water trailed down half submerged bodies. Satu watched. Siiri fearless, and Siiri aggressive. A hand on Miharu’s neck. Soft but claiming. Fingertip patterns on a Kelvic collarbone. “You can tell me to stop.” Faces close, voices hoarse. Eyes locked. Satu as Voyeur, invisible intruder. Aroused. Passion as lips touched. Emotions flooded the HeartSeer. Siiri and Miharu joined. Strength in the Bonding. Wants and desires shared, breasts caressed. Bloody bite on Miharu’s lip. On the floor now, bodies dripped, water pooled. The girl prone and pinned by wrists. Bites and nips as hands explored, teased. Lessons for bondmates and bonds strengthened. Moans and gasps and growls. Pleasure! Awakening. Satu stared. Satu observed without judgement. And then it was gone. It only lasted a few seconds, so quickly did the vision play out. At its departure, Satu was thrust back into the present where a high kick was coming directly at her descending suvai. After the intimacies the HeartSeer had just witnessed, Satu was ill prepared for the aggressive emotions battering her once again. She had lost her momentum, and the upper hand, but she scrambled to gain it back. Satu acted without thought or plan, only self preservation and years of suvai training had taught her body how to act, simply by listening to an inner wisdom that worked faster than the mind. Her body knew what to do and it acted. She jumped back to dodge the foot attack, and with a lightening fast speed she reversed the remaining suvai so the blade pointed inward, along her wrist. Her waist rotated as she moved. Siiri would kill her; Satu would try to do the same. She would not be betrayed again! The mercenary and now Siiri had turned upon her! No! She would fight! Satu leapt! At the juncture where the smooth pull of muscle lay between Siiri’s ear and the shoulder, that was where Satu willed the suvai to penetrate. Torso extended, she lifted the suvai away from her wrist for the stabbing assault, and brought her own body in closer for the strike. Death shone in her eyes.

[Siiri]

Despite her momentary distraction, it only took the Konti a split second to react when she realized that her Myrian opponent had renewed her attack. Siiri, already impressed by the deyhan’s skill in wielding her weapons, was now in awe of Satu’s lightning reflexes… but not caught by surprise by it. She had observed the Konti their whole match and finally realized she could not match her in speed and agility. If she could not land a blow against the pale skinned woman because of that, then she had to find a way to hold her in place long enough to deliver a hit. Disarmed, the Myrian had no other tool to use for such a ploy but her own body.

And she did.

Just as Satu’s remaining suvai began its forward momentum to stab her at the side of her neck, Siiri grabbed her numb hand by its fingers, pulling the whole limb up to block the incoming blade. She had timed it perfectly: the suvai entered the back of her and burst through her palm in a shower of blood, splattering her face with the crimson liquid. She was not sure if the attack damaged any of the bones in her hand but it didn’t matter – she couldn’t feel a thing.

More importantly, she had the Konti’s blade trapped.

Throughout the whole fight, Siiri had noticed a pattern in Satu’s overall style. She was very good with her suvai, to the point of making the Myrian look like a total fool for going against her in armed combat, but she was too dependent on them. Every move she did, whether it was an attack or a counter, involved the use of the twin blades and not much else. The warrioress thought it was very limiting. Satu spoke of being one with her blades but Siiri felt the Konti had taken it a step too far: she had become the blades and lost herself. If the suvai where taken away, she became like every other Konti.

Soft.

Weak.

Prey.

Siiri crushed her numbed fingers with her free hand, locking the Konti’s weapon between the bones of her hand, and then gave a hard yank. Caught by surprise, Satu did not release her hold from the weapon fast enough to prevent herself from being pulled forward. Siiri caught the smaller woman’s sapphire eyes widening a split second before she smashed her forehead on the Konti’s nose. The force of the impact staggered both women backwards. Siiri recovered almost immediately, then paused only long enough to pull out and toss away the suvai still embedded in her numb palm.

“Round Two, little Satu,” she growled, battle rage making her ignore the blood flowing freely from her latest wound. “My turn.”

The Myrian leapt forward to press her attack, right foot leading to deliver a kick upon Satu's side.