Closed Dancing in the Spring

[Matthew]

He shook his head at her words, instantly correcting himself. "You are right, I am sure there is more than one way. I should say that I have been shown one of the correct ways to hold a dagger." It spun a few more times in a slow and lazy arc within his palm, and finally the Harlot settled it firmly in his grip. His fingers curled around the hilt, holding it snugly but not too tightly, making sure that his grip wouldn't end with his fingers getting cramped out of nowhere. He held it much like her, point facing upwards. He stared at the practice weapon for a few moments and then glanced to her as she beckoned him towards her. He was a brute, was he?

The transformation of his face was laughable, at best. The poor thing was very obviously trying his best to act, but anything beyond an act of seduction was really beyond his meager skills. His face scrunched into an obviously fake scowl and he let out a few grunts, an act that most people would see as a way of mocking actual thugs. Matthew was actually trying his best though. He even tried to get into the mindset of the role he was playing. He was a thug and he wanted what he saw. She was holding a dagger though, so she was dangerous. No, was that really what a thug would think? He paced a bit as he glared at her, booted feet finding the edge of the little platform that they stood on and taking a moment to balance on it. He had to get into the right mindset. Become the attacker, become a man who merely wanted to steal the attractive goods that her body seemed to teasingly offer.

The Harlot stepped forward, body moving in a graceful blur, Matthew not thinking to abandon his grace for the more aggressive and bold movements of a normal attacker. His dagger did not come into play yet, for Matthew didn't see the woman as anything but just that. She was a woman. She was a prize for him to have. Instead of a dagger, his other hand lunged out, outstretched fingers trying to grab the wrist of the hand that held her dagger, twist it, and then roughly yank her towards him.

***

Some distance away...

A single man stepped through the overgrown wilderness surrounding Sunberth, having lost sight of the Harlot and his pretty friend about a bell ago. He hacked his way through the underbrush with a worn longsword, grumbling and grunting to himself, black eyes filled with irritation and rather large, muscled body covered with a layer of sweat. It was petching hot. Where had the Harlot gone? The only place near here was the petching mill, which was practically rotting. Why would he go there?

Why was he out here in the first place though? The man darkly mumbled to himself and turned to make the trip to the mill, figuring he might as well check. If his hunch was right, there was a lot of gold mizas at stake here.

[Caela Dorin]

Her grip on the knife tightened and then loosened as the hold grew too tight. She had an annoying habit of trying to squeeze the dagger to death when she was on the brink of a fight. Normally, it would be panic that would cause such a reaction. Panic would make her hold it tight to reassure herself, to almost prove to herself that it was really there, really effective and solid. It was a habit that she hoped to lose with time as she knew that it would cause problems in a real fight. It had to be treated like a real fight and so she had to concentrate.

Concentration was a bit difficult though as Matthew started acting like a buffoon. He was probably doing his best to look frighteningly intimidating but his attempt was laughable. It put her at ease though, her grip naturally loosening so that she was holding the blade in a normal grip. Maybe she'd store that image away somewhere and try to dredge it up if she ever got into a real fight to calm herself down. Although laughing in the face of an attacker probably wouldn't help matters as she found herself doing now. She needed to be serious but he was just hopeless at acting such an aggressive role. He was still a pretty boy under the facial contortions.

He didn't attack immediately however, which gave her a chance to remember some tips that she'd been given by the person who had introduced her to the weapon. She'd been quite clearly told that if she wanted to evade an attack there was a basic way of doing it that worked most of the time. If someone went for her right then she was to move right and deflect, and move left if someone went for that side. It wasn't something that made sense to her and she'd never tried it out but if it was wrong she could correct it here.

When Matthew attacked, it wasn't with the dagger as she'd expected but with his hand. He made a lunge for her knife hand, her right and she quickly moved right, always keeping him directly in front of her as she moved. She wasn't circling him exactly and she knew that it wasn't wise to do so given the floor so with nowhere else to go, the dancer attacked him, angling a stabbing motion towards his lower torso. The young woman could only hope that there would be a gap and that he wouldn't end up getting the upper hand despite her footwork.

It was a bit like a dance except that her movements were less graceful than usual, her aim to defend herself rather than adding to her allure for a crowd. It could be treated more like a dance though if she wanted. Her movements could become smoother certainly and her ability to stab and thrust improved. Perhaps that would be an exercise for another time, one that she could practise alone on far more stable ground.

x

[Matthew]

Matthew unknowingly had the same habit as she did when it came to the grip, something he had practiced on. The natural surge of energy that flooded through someone when their life was on the line was something that almost instinctively made him cling to the dagger as if it was a lifeline, which it was in some ways. He had learned to always keep part of his mind aware of the dagger though, aware of how tightly he clung to it and if it caused his fingers to start to sting in any way. That was one of the reasons that he had taken to trying to spin the dagger ever-so-slowly in his palm. He'd get faster as he got better, but for now it just served to help him feel more comfortable with the grip of the weapon in his palm. He wanted to grow intimate with the blade, so to speak. It eventually needed to be an extension of himself.

Still trying to act the role of an aggressive attacker for the benefit of their little roleplay scenario, he made sure to keep the scowl on his face and his eyes narrowed into a glare that felt somewhat awkward on his face. How did people give this sort of look so easily? It was incredibly uncomfortable to keep holding it.

Caela moved with an elegance and grace that betrayed her profession, angling a blow at him as she moved. He stumbled backwards in an instinctive move to avoid the practice blade, the tip of it barely brushing him as he did so. He felt the wooden edges of the little section of flooring vanish underneath him, realizing he had stumbled back almost far enough to topple over. His balance came into play once more, the Harlot waving his arms and bobbing his hips to try and keep himself upright. It only took a tick or two for him to suddenly lurch forward, his horribly-fake angry face glowering and his words coming out in a guttural growl. "Petching whore."

Perhaps almost insulting if his attempt at an intimidating growl of a voice didn't sound like a young male who was going through a severe moment in puberty.

Her movements had given him an idea though. They had limited space to work with and he could force her out onto the beams, perhaps. If she moved one way when he went one way, then perhaps if he...

Matthew lunged the remaining space, the dagger coming into play now, jabbing out to aim at her left. He stepped into it and immediately prepared to continue the push if she circled to the side again, planning on corralling the girl into the corner of their shared platform.

[Caela Dorin]

He hadn't been prepared for her move to the side and her lunge but he did succeed on dodging her knife. It wasn't a complete dodge though as she felt material catch on and slip off from the blunted tip. It was a near miss and it made her feel more confident in herself. It never occurred to her that Matthew was possibly worse than her with a dagger and didn't have fighting experience. It was a very, very small victory but she didn't think of that.

The feeling of victory was short-lived however when Matthew wobbled. She knew that he was at the edge, in danger of falling and she took an unconscious step forward to catch him if he didn't right himself. The fact that they were acting out a scenario and that he was supposed to be her attacker slipped her mind for a few ticks. He did manage to right himself though and insult her at the same time. It seemed that he was still playing his role of thug, his voice far from intimidating but the words bit deeply. He couldn't have known that such a word had been thrown at her before. It was her mother's fault. Her line of work had tainted Caela and she'd been guilty by association. Mother a whore, daughter a whore. That was the logic even if she never made a movement in that direction. The words still had the power to hurt even though she hadn't heard the insult in awhile.

It wasn't a serious insult but that didn't register in her mind. She wanted to hurt him for it as if that would hurt everyone else who'd ever said it to her. It made her desperate to hit him, to push him back to get the upper hand. Rage took over from reason although she did have the ability to dodge when the lunge came. This time he came with his dagger but she was ready for him.

The dancer moved swiftly to the left, her free left hand moving to shove his knife arm further in that direction, aiming for his elbow, as he came fully into the attack. Hoping that she'd be able to send his arm in the correct direction, she moved right herself. Swinging her right arm, dagger in hand, towards his side again, Caela moved her body towards his. She brought her knee up, aiming for his crotch. He'd probably block something but she was hoping that she'd hit him somewhere. Although she was far more likely to fall into him as her attack wasn't the most balanced one that the young woman could have attempted.

x

[Matthew]

There was a shift in the air, a change in her demeanor that he noticed but didn't quite fully get. Was it anger? There was that glimmer in her eye, something that he was fairly certain he saw normally associated with anger. If so, then good. He was playing his part at least a little well. He kept the scowl on his face and kept his brow furrowed in anger as he lurched forward with his swing, curious if he would be able to get any sort of solid hit on the flighty dancer. She was smooth and graceful with her motions, giving him the impression that she would be hard to pin down in any sort of way. That is why he was trying to funnel her into a corner, really. He needed to limit her movement options if he was to have any chance with this.

She went the other direction, the Harlot making a mistake in his assumptions. He was caught off balance as she caught and shoved his arm, sending Matthew stepping in one direction while she stepped in the other. She swung and make contact this time, though he was able to instinctively jerk back a little, the tip of the practice dagger ramming the blunted point into his ribcage. A slight yelp echoed from his lips at the sudden blossom of pain, the weapon likely to leave a bruise on him for some time to come. He distantly realized his fingers had tightened around his dagger and made a small adjustment on the fly, a part of his mind making sure that his fingers loosened as everything continued to play out.

When she stepped forward and drew her knee up in a sharp blow, that was perhaps the one unarmed technique that Matthew instinctively knew how to defend against. It was probably bred into every male. He almost instantly twisted at the waist, spinning in the direction she had already pushed him in, leaving her knee to jab into his hip.

The Harlot didn't even hesitate, keeping the momentum of the spin to bring his dagger whipping around, a blow that was almost dangerous in how it was aimed right at the side of her head. One hand was pressed into his side, pushing down on the area that she had 'stabbed'. He was still trying to act the part, playing as if he now had a wound and had to keep pressure applied in order to make sure the blood didn't flow freely.

***

The man paused as the mill finally came into view, seeing the old wooden structure off in a distance a bit further away. He took a moment to catch his breath and use his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, cursing the intense heat of the summer and the fact that he had been wandering around out here for quite awhile now.

He straightened as he heard noises though, the distant sound of what sounded like creaking wood and a brief but loud yelp of pain. A small smile crossed his face as he stared at the mill. Perhaps he was going to be lucky. He'd rest for a bit more and then see if fate was smiling on him today.

[Caela Dorin]

It had been a wild move, not as well thought out as what she'd done previously. The first step had been planned but the next two had been instinct and fuelled by her desire to hurt him. She was pleased and surprised in the aftermath at what she had done. Succeeding in shoving his dagger hand out of the way had made everything that followed possible. It was something that she'd have to remember to use in future although it wasn't something that she'd expected to work. Maybe it only worked on an unsuspecting target, one that underestimated her. It was something to be filed away for future use.

The stab had felt good. The tip was blunted but it would still hurt like blazes and it had struck bone. The yelp from Matthew proved just how successfully the hit had struck home. It'd leave one hai of a bruise behind it, one that he wasn't likely to forget in a hurry. It did something to dissipate her anger, glad to have caused the pain that she wanted. The knee to the crotch would have been better but of course he'd defended against that. She'd hoped he'd be too distracted but men seemed to almost instinctively know that their assets were in danger. It didn't matter in hindsight however as she found herself feeling ashamed of the damage she'd tried to do. It wasn't like he'd really tried to insult her. There had been no real feeling behind it and she'd overreacted.

Matthew wasn't in the slightest bit fazed though, the pain from the stab not stopping him from taking a swing at her head immediately. His defence against her knee had sent her back a step, effectively in retreat and so her position was weaker than his. He had taken advantage of it straight away, far sooner than Caela had expected. The dancer shrieked, ducking the dagger before it could strike her in the side of the head. Her hand was positioned lower than before and so she slashed out wildly at what was the nearest target: his legs. At the same time, she tried to duck around him, waiting for an opportunity to straighten without ending up being slashed at. At the same time, her ducked position was inconvenient. Aside from feeling uncomfortable and unnatural, it also limited her sight. Moving to his right, she popped up again and stabbed forward.

The dancer had had the upper hand at first but she supposed that she had been a little overconfident. This is where it had gotten her. A weakened position and a complete inability to find a good way to attack. It was so much easier to attack when you didn't have to try to defend. It was not a position that she liked being in. She was supposed to be better at this than him, although it had been quite awhile since she'd sparred with anyone and never with someone worse than her. Caela hadn't known what to expect and so she'd underestimated him. That near blow to the head had been a shocker for sure. Even with a blunted tip, that practice dagger could have done a lot of damage. An eye might have been affected or an ear and that was a terrifying thought.

x

[Matthew]

Caela ducked, thankfully so. He had been doing his best to play the part, but in hindsight he could have severely injured the dancer. He had no desire to do that. He wanted to learn and to teach in turn, but it could be done without actually wounding his opponent. He lacked discipline and control. Hopefully that would be something that he would eventually develop as he trained his mind and body.

His body was aching where the practice dagger had struck. Movement made him wince, but he wasn't horribly handicapped. He wasn't exactly sure how injured he should act, though. How deep would the dagger have penetrated if it would have been a normal blade? Applying pressure would eventually stop most of the bleeding if it wasn't too horribly deep. She hadn't stabbed any major organs either, so he assumed he was fine. He would just to savor it and remember the effect that blood loss would have on his body. While pressure would stop the blood flow, too much frenzied movement would only encourage it. If he was her attacker, he would need to wrap this up quickly. Or would he be too blinded by rage? Acting was a lot more difficult than he had first assumed.

She was to his side, Matthew turning at the waist to face her. She stabbed forward and he suddenly moved on instinct, lessons from long ago flooding to the front of his mind. His hand darted up from his wound, catching the inside of the incoming wrist with the back of his palm and somewhat awkwardly deflecting it to the side. While he had practically no training when it came to a dagger, he did have just a bit of training when it came to unarmed combat. From what he had seen, nothing that would be enough to actually defend himself against Caela in a head-on fight. Deflecting an off-balance straightforward blow, though? He could do that, even if it wasn't as smooth as he liked.

But, that just led to a problem. Matthew hopped backwards and suddenly dropped the whole facade, a slight frown crossing his full lips. "You win. I stopped applying pressure to my wound. I would be bleeding rather profusely from your earlier strike. Would you like to go again?" He was dedicated to the act he had tried to put on and was trying to play fair. He definitely wanted to try again though, provided that Caela was okay with it. Sadly, someone else decided to intervene, a rough voice and a deep laugh breaking into Matthew's words and causing the Harlot to slowly turn his head and slide his blue eyes toward the source. A rather nondescript brute stood on the bottom floor of the old mill, staring up through the wooden beams with a wide grin on his face and a rather dangerous-looking sword in one hand. "Hey there, pretty boy. You don't know me. I know you though. Ruby's favorite prostitute, and apparently you rake in quite a bit of coin."

He spit on the ground and then tossed a wink up at Matthew, shrugging meaty muscled shoulders. "I assume you keep some of that on you. I'll need you to play nice and hand it over. I'd hate to scar up that money-making face of yours." His eyes slid to Caela, grin widening as dark eyes glittered playfully. "Odd choice of a place to play with the harlot, darling. Not that I care what your kinks are. I'm sure you brought money for him. You'll be giving that to me now."

[Caela Dorin]

Her wild, unbalanced strike was deflected but that wasn't surprising. She wasn't prepared for it though, unsure what to do to try to get back at him. It left her frozen in indecision, vulnerable to attack but Matthew didn't advance upon her, dealing out blows that she deserved for her inaction. No, instead he actually retreated and she would have attacked him then except that his thug 'scowl' dropped from his face, replaced with a frown instead. She knew by his expression that this scenario was over although she didn't understand why. He'd been winning, or rather he'd had the upper hand. Was he calling the scenario to a close because in reality, he would have taken her at this stage and be having his way with her?

The real reason made her laugh, a sound of surprised delight. "Are you serious? I would have had you beat in a real fight? Nice to know," the dancer began, the rest of her words dying on her lips as the voice came out of nowhere. She followed Matthew's gaze to the man who had spoken. The sight of him sent a shiver running through her. There was a man below them, one who clearly intended to cause them harm. Nobody walked around with a drawn sword like that who didn't intend to use it. What had he said though? He'd been looking at Matthew, not her, when he said the word prostitute. He'd called Matthew a prostitute. That didn't sit well with her, she had to have heard wrong. They were being robbed that much she could process because it made sense. But the man beside her being a prostitute didn't make sense, or rather she was stubbornly denying it to herself because she didn't want it to be true.

The thug looked straight at her when he spoke again and she couldn't ignore the obvious then. Harlot. Prostitute. Pretty boy. She swayed at the revelation that was coming to pass, feeling sick to her stomach. She'd wondered about his line of work. He'd be so well-groomed, so soft looking, so out of place. He was out of place the way Caela was out of place in a crowd. She looked the way she did to sell the concept of herself, of what she could provide. But he looked the way he did because his body was for sale. No wonder he had been so charming, so sexually appealing to her. No wonder he had made her blush and swoon, it was his job! He was a walking advertisement and she hadn't even seen it.

It never would have occurred to her, even if he went around with prostitute painted on him. The girl had always maintained the happy delusion in her mind that male prostitutes did not exist. Women, yes, because men were depraved but never men, even though she had seen them in her mother's work place. Matthew even worked where her mother had worked, Ruby's Scarlet Sanctum. The thug had said Ruby.

Something between a wail and a moan erupted from her lips, although the dancer hardly realised that she made the sound at all. "I didn't know. I didn't know what he was. I don't have any money," Caela wailed, moving away from Matthew, suddenly unable to inhabit the same space as him. "Rob him. I don't care. I didn't know." She didn't even know what she was saying, babbling over and over again that she hadn't known, her face filling with horror and disgust every time she looked at him. The would-be thief meant nothing to her, hardly entering into her thoughts although he had started all this and he was still directly below them.

Word Count619 words

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[Matthew]

Matthew blinked at the newcomer, a single eyebrow slowly raising. The man was here to rob him? And in such a straightforward fashion. Matthew was familar with how people tried to snatch purses in Sunberth, but that was usually an entirely different matter. They usually moved quickly and then ran with what they had managed to nab. They didn't move slowly and precisely, and they most certainly didn't state their intentions while standing in front of the people that they intended to rob. The man was cocky. No, perhaps confident was a better word. He had his prey alone and he was very aware that he was more skilled than them. Had he followed Matthew for some time then? The Harlot tilted his head slowly, considering all of his options. What to do? How much did the thief know about the person he was stealing from?

The Harlot bite his lower lip and reached within himself, dipping fingertips into his personal well of djed and giving it a swirl. Matthew kept a lot of secrets, most of which he was fairly sure he didn't expose even whenever he thought he was completely alone. Still though, best to be safe. He was being threatened and he certainly wasn't going to give the thug what he wanted. Matthew had worked very hard for his personal earnings.

Caela's sudden noise was surprising though, causing both Matthew and Thug (having been named such in Matthew's mind) to suddenly stare at the dancer. Her words caused Thug to burst out into laughter and caused Matthew to blink again, both of them thinking extremely different things. "No money, eh? You won't mind if I personally check you over to confirm if that is true?" His tone was more mocking than anything else, not holding a certain level of perversion that a rapist would have. He was just looking for some excitement it seemed. Nothing that would really endanger Caela, not if she was telling the truth. Matthew hadn't spoken yet, was merely studying her with that same curious stare that he normally wore. He wasn't offended, perhaps a bit confused. She seemed awful shocked by the fact that Matthew was a prostitute. Did it matter that much to her? She had certainly thrown him to the dogs, so to speak.

Thug started to advance slowly, balancing his way up to the second story the exact same way that Matthew and Caela had managed to make it up there. The Harlot started to back up, still considering his options. He slowly tossed the practice weapon down and pulled out the weapon that he had underneath the cloak, a long black dagger shimmering slightly as it came into view. It was slightly curved at the edge with little designs etched into it, certainly something quite... unique. Thug paused as he laid eyes on it, grinning as he reached the edge of the second floor, a hand reaching out for the nearby Harlot. "I'll take that too. Please play nice, I'd really like to keep this civil." Matthew didn't even hesitate, lashing out with a sudden blow. The man laughed and yanked his hand back, but not quickly enough to prevent the dagger from slicing three of his fingers with a shallow cut. He chuckled, shaking his head and sucking on the bleeding digits, hand tightening on his blade as he advanced toward Matthew.

The Harlot didn't say anything, merely sprang backwards, taking the fight out to the criss-crossing rafters. He backed his way onto one of the ones he knew was still whole, balancing carefully, eyes on his attacker. Caela was left to react how she wished, though the man had seemingly made it clear that he was planning on making sure she was telling the truth.

[Caela Dorin]

The dancer didn't know what to do. She wanted to get away from Matthew, to clear her thoughts of him entirely but at the same time... Her gaze moved to the Harlot's and found that he was watching her. Meeting his gaze was almost painful but she didn't look away. Instead she tried to read in his gaze why he'd kept what was from her. Admittedly, she'd never asked and the topic had never come up but he could have at least mentioned it. Had he thought that it was obvious? Had he been looking at her as a potential customer, perhaps even subtly convincing her to take up his services? The idea horrified her but his expression seemed to suggest that he'd thought that she'd known/ He was looking at her with a question in his eyes, apparently curious about her reaction.

The thug's words snapped her attention away from the male prostitute, turning to regard their would-be robber with horror. He wasn't serious? The glee and amusement in his eyes seemed to confirm it and she found herself retreating before he'd even made a move towards them. As she watched, he began his slow advance, balancing his way up to them on the beam. She looked for some way to knock him off. If she threw something and she missed then she might only make herself more of a target. The dancer considered another course of action but came up with nothing.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the man, ready to make her escape if and when the opportunity presented itself. He wasn't going to make it easy though, positioning himself to close to the top of the beam so that there was no easy way around him. It seemed that what had brought herself and Matthew to this place in the first place was going to come into play. Matthew had wanted to see if he could use a dagger as had she and this thug was providing the perfect opportunity. It was a real scenario but that also meant that it was a dangerous one. Real steel and the possibility of blood.

Matthew proved just how dangerous a real blade could be, pulling out a true dagger and slashing it across the thug's hand. Blood oozed from a shallow cut, something that made Caela shudder. The reality of what was happening made her remember how easily damaged she could be and just how fragile she was in comparison to this man. He didn't even flinch at the laceration, laughing it off instead. Well it seemed that civil had gone out the window. Matthew seemed to know it as well because he began to retreat towards the beams. It didn't seem like a good course of action as it was asking for trouble in the future but the harlot was more familiar with which beams were unstable than his pursuer.

Matthew couldn't go anywhere though and he was moving away from the one safe way down. He couldn't escape and so there was no need for the thug to go after him immediately. His eyes drifted to Caela instead, taking a step closer to her. He'd said that he wanted to check her for money and he seemed to be ready to make good on that promise. She began to back away from him, ready to join Matthew on the beams.

"You aren't coming near me, do you hear? You aren't searching me and that's that," she told him firmly, taking a step back from him again. He continued to advance, chuckling to himself about her reaction. The dagger was drawn from her belt, ready to be used if she needed to defend herself. She was running out of retreat space and so she was forced onto the beams, testing them carefully with her feet to make sure that they wouldn't give way under her weight. "I'm warning you, I will defend myself if you lay a hand on me."

Word Count663 words

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