[The ED] The Dance of Hands and Feet (Kelski)

[Dessarian]

Timestamp: 4th of Winter, 519 AV

The Fall had been a taxing season. It was their first harvest and there had been a lot of work in preparing and storing up provisions for the winter, so they didn't have to rely solely on the already food-strapped Zeltiva to survive. The Meraki had lost a few members, an anticipated attrition, given the commitment required in building the guild and its home from scratch. And a majority of the guild's income still came from Kelski's jewelcrafting alone. On top of the efforts of the Guildmistress to not only survive, but to thrive, Kelski had taken the care of her brother fully upon herself.

Kal was Dess's best friend, but the Damazar was a warrior, not a caretaker. He possessed compassion, perhaps more than the other warriors of his familial order, but it was not in him to be able to nurture the comatose K'etir. Ember didn't have the fortitude to care for her father, it upset her too much to see him in such a state. But Kelski, to whom Kalistan was a stranger, tended to her sibling as if they had grown up together. She did it without complaint, but Dess sensed the weight of all his bondmate carried upon her shoulders.

The Gem and Dess spoke more often. While he was still learning how he could help her to grow, she made sure Kelski's well-being remain a priority for him. The Gem knew how much he cared for her mother, even though he didn't always know how to express it. And Dess discovered just how much the Gem loved Kelski, and worried for her. Kelski was a driven Kelvic, ambitious and expected much from herself. Like a child poking her step-father to take care of her mother, the Gem helped Dess see when the weight grew too heavy.

Dess carried in a load of firewood to store near the hearth in the small room the Gem had made for Kalistan. Kelski seemed to have been checking on Kalistan, for she was tucking in the blanket spread over the unconscious man. Dess paused to look at his friend, who's eyes he had not seen open since before they had parted ways and the Damazar left for Sunberth.
The Gem nudged at Dess.
[i][b]
Her brother's lack of progress frustrates her. She hoped Gilthas could do more for him. She needs a distraction, Dess. Get her outside, she needs to stretch her muscles and fill her lungs.[/b][/i]

Dess often did just that, encouraging Kelski to go on a run with him. He knew better than most the effect physical exertion had on mind and mood, to give clarity and a sense of refreshing.[i] "I have an idea, something I have been wanting to do with her for a while."[/i] He replied, patting the stone wall affectionately, as if able to tangibly assure his Architectrix friend. Dess tossed more wood into the fire, then looked again to the unconscious Kalistan, who hardly resembled the man he knew. Fingers brushed over the Ke'tir mage's arm as Dess bit the inside of his lip and left the room.

He stepped outside the doore and waited for Kelski to join him. "Would you come outside and with me for a bit? I would like to work on some hand-to-hand, no weapons. I think we could both use the training, and the distraction." His hand rested lightly on his bondmate's shoulder, his thumb bushing against her collarbone. It was a sign of affection most would not understand.

[Kelski]

A life of slavery and then of getting her own business up and running had made Kelski one of those people that didn’t adjust well to a life of leisure. She wanted to work, liked to work, and didn’t feel right not working. Fall had been busy, but not unwieldly. Kelski had thrived under the pressure, needing to have driving forces to motivate her to get things done. Keeping the people at the Demesne fed was decidedly a strong point, which had gone a long way towards motivating her to partially take up farming, gardening, and do a lot more big game hunting than she’d done ever before. While she was partial to rabbits and salmon, bringing down deer or elk had replaced the smaller game because they had a wide variety of people to feed. Bringing in income had driven her to work long hours and find a way to generate as much income as possible to get the guild actually built before the guild could fulfill its actual purpose and take on jobs.

And then there was Kalistan. Kelski felt guilty about her brother. He’d gotten hurt being out in the world – maybe even looking for her – rather than being at home where the K’etir might have not fallen prey to the enemies that had taken him and beaten him so badly. There was no touching his mind, no waking him up, but Kelski took it upon herself to make sure his body was well cared for when he returned. She’d even taken up bending his legs, flexing them, moving his arms, rotating his shoulders, all at Ebon’s encouragement, trying to get her brother’s limbs to not be frozen when he returned. She could do nothing about the muscle atrophy that seemed to be happening, because she couldn’t stand him up and walk him around. But she did everything else.

She even dressed him in diapers like she would an infant, taking quick lessons from Mercy who had arrived with the toddler Caitlyn. Kal had no bowel control and no way to hold his urine, so she kept it off him by keeping him in invalid wraps. To her, it was nothing. It was a sign he was still alive if she could spoon him ground up soup and his bowels digested and discarded it. While he was still drinking and pissing himself, he was still alive. But what she hated was to see the once beautiful male start to waste away, his flesh growing gaunt despite her efforts and his once heavily muscled frame growing thin and weak.

And so, she sat with her unknown brother, talked to him, told him of her life and shared with him who she was. She read to him, told him stories or talked about the day, and though he was prone and did not move, she slowly began to see him as part of their world. She talked to him of Dark and how much the ship missed him. And she went out to the ship often – as often as she could – and fed him djed and talked to him about Kalistan and how the man was doing. It made her feel better, somehow, to care for the Architectrix that her brother made.

She didn’t do it for herself. Kelski had never had a family – no blood relatives that is – and hadn’t missed having them. She’d often wondered what it would be like, but having them is something she’d never enjoyed. She did it for Dessarian. He knew Kalistan. He was friends with him. They’d grown up together like brothers, though instead were friends. She did it for Ember, because this was her sire. And while she could always call on Ember for her help, the Kelvic mouse looked haunted every time she saw her father laid so low. Kelski wished she understood, having never known her father. But she left the girl alone, and only causally mentioned her father when there was a change or something good or new to report. Usually there was nothing – nothing that he was getting thinner, swallowing things less and less, and wasting away. Kelski needed help, more help than Ebon could give, and she wasn’t sure how to get it.

The sound of the door opening while she was in the middle of trying to get Kal to take more bone broth caused the Kelvic to startle a bit. She’d been so lost in thought. Kelski set the bowl down, tucked the blanket around Kal, then offered Dess a smile for his thoughtfulness at the load of wood. She gestured at Kal. “He’s eaten most of a bowl today.” She said, as if to encourage Dess, though she saw the haunted look in his eyes as well. There was a half empty bowl on the side table, a spoon discarded in it.

I think he’s dying. That was really what she wanted to say. But she said nothing instead, knowing if she voiced it, it might manifest and that was the last thing she wanted.

Can’t you feed him Djed and help him that way? The Gem asked, curiosity mixed with concern.

Kelski shook her head. Something living wasn’t the same as something Architectrix. People were more fragile. She said nothing, but conveyed all this to the structure in her emotions, letting The Gem feel what she felt, understand what she understood.

Meanwhile, Dess caressed the walls of The Gem and a hint of a fingerlight touch stroked his hand back just before he walked in, fed the fire, and touched his mate’s shoulder raising goosebumps along her arm. She glanced at him, meeting his gaze briefly, affection and love filling the bond a moment along with something more primal. His mate shuddered at the light touch and captured her lower lip in her teeth a moment as if biting her own lips restrained her from turning her head and nipping him. She heated immediately, Dess chasing the chill from the room by both adding wood to the fire and stirring her desire. He never failed to do so, just by being around and being a solid presence in her mind. She touched Kalistan’s forehead once, gently, and followed Dess out the door.

“I’ll run with you, of course…” She said, liking the idea of a physical exertion. Then she paused and closed her eyes, soaking up the attention when he stroked her collarbone. “… or fight. No weapons.” She agreed, hissing softly as she met his gaze. She leaned forward, nibbled at the top of his shoulders having to rise on her toes to do it, then settled to follow him outside. It was winter and cold, but she knew Dessarian would work her hard enough to keep her warm so she left her cloak hanging on its hook by the main tower door and opted for her short kidskin boots instead. She had a warm sweater on and sturdy cotton pants. If it wasn’t enough, she’d come back for more clothing.

“What are we going to practice? Punching?” She asked, slightly reluctant to try and strike or kick at him. Trailing her bondmate like an errant puppy, Kelski looked a combination of eager and terrified. She’d fought side by side with Dess, but she’d never fought Dess. He was a lot bigger than her and she doubted any strikes or kicks would phase him. Men his size she took on with daggers, which she could handle with ease. But he’d said no weapons, but everything around her was a weapon… the stones in the ground, the dirt, the wind… anything. She was really interested in learning what he had to say.

[Dessarian]

Physical touch was an anchor, the sensual cord a lifeline of intimacy that passed between Keski and Dess easily. It was why he chose to caress her in her most sensitive places, and she his. No matter where they were, or what was going on around them, those simple touches grounded them, strengthened them. They both needed those moments of stability, reminders of who they were, that they had each other and in many ways were one.

While Kelski was a strength to him, Kalistan was a chink in Dessarian's armor. He put on a strong face, as if Kalistan could see him, and for Ember. But inside, he struggled. Part of him considered his best friend dead already, with Kal's condition worsening and no way to help him. And that gave rise to feelings of guilt. Part of him despaired in the helpless feeling of watching the once vibrant body waste away. His friend was too weak and fragile for much travel, and even taking him to Zeltiva would expose him and all of the Ke'tir and Damazar at the Demesne to discovery by the Drust. Dess even avoided the Dark, for Kalistan's Architectrix vessel would sense the Damazar's fading hope.

Dess needed the work out as much as Kelski did.

The bonded couple left the tower. Dess was dressed in a heavy knit shirt with a thinner shirt underneath, and wool pants. Even in the chill air, he knew would get hot once he started to exert himself. He was happy Kelski was up for some exercise, as she usually was, and agreed to something a bit different. "I was thinking not so much hitting, but maneuvers, some techniques that could help in a fight." He didn't want to spar with Kelski, in the sense of trading blows. Even the appearance of hitting Kelski was grossly upsetting to him. Not that the techniques couldn't cause pain, but they were not the same as aimed strikes at her body.

Dess lead Kelski through the narrow band of woods that separated the demesne from the training grounds Dessarian and begun to develop. There were a few training aids set up, including a couple simple wooden posts with a crossbeam for arms for basic weapon training. There was one of the two planned ranges set up with a makeshift target at one end. The more complex training dummy he brought from Sunberth, affectionately called 'Hector', was set up. And finally a training ring, which at the moment consisted of a slightly dug out depression in the shape of a circle filled with sand hauled up from the beach. The ring is where Dess lead Kelski.

Stepping into the sand, Dess gestured for Kelski to join him. The Kelvic was a good fighter when it came to her daggers. She was, for many reasons, the deadliest of the Meraki. Dess discerned that her natural instincts, those of the raptor, lent a ready aptitude to fighting without weapons. So he didn't bother with showing her how to stand, or other basics. He would go right to some techniques so they could get moving. First, he wanted to see what was in her instincts.

"I would like to see what you would naturally do in certain situations. What would you do, say, if you didn't have a weapon, and I tried to attack you with a knife?" Dess paused and moved to pick up a small piece of wood lying at the edge of the ring. "I know you could use magic, but humor me and assume you can't." He chided with a grin.

Dess planted his feet in the sand, shoulder width apart, one slight more forward than the other. He held the piece of wood as if it were a dagger. Then he lunged forward at her abdomen, at about half the speed of an actual attack.

[Kelski]

She liked his touch; craved it in fact. When they were alone, they were often skin to skin. His touches were welcome, far more welcoming than most things from most humans. He was an anchor to her, the one thing that calmed some sort of terrible internal drive that kept her going… kept her mind busy day to day and night to night with the need to get stronger, financially and physically, and stable. She felt like she was enough when Dess touched her. She felt like she was enough when she was sprawled beneath him, his body buried in hers, and her limbs wrapped around his. She was also enough when they were together, working side by side for common goals. She was enough at his glance and enough at his soft words. His very presence was often reassuring. He was a connection that tied her to the world in a way she hadn’t been before as a flying thing, not really a tether, but more of a point of origin; a home.

This, however, was a new situation and she wasn’t sure she was enough. He was so much taller, so much stronger, and he’d trained all his life. The way he moved – like a cat – belied his training. She felt earth bound in her human form, heavy and unruly. The Sea Eagle that was also so much her disliked the human form that was so ungainly. But she followed him anyhow, trusting him, knowing he could sense her insecurities about this. She liked the path they took through the woods. Dessarian had habits that were odd, never following the same path, never placing the same step twice… things she’d noticed over time that hinted at a past or training that was different than most men.

It was also daylight. Kelski’s human form was a creature of the dawn and dusk and full night. Her sea eagle was diurnal and she liked the sunlight, but the forests dappled shadows in full daylight gave the Nightstalker no advantage for nothing was truly dark allowing her to move in the way that had become most natural to her. So she watched her mate, learning from him, even as he moved, careful to vary her own steps… to pay attention to where she walked and how she walked. The woods were not unfriendly, nor was the training space Dessarian had carefully built. But they weren’t the city streets she’d come into her own on.

When they’d passed into the training grounds, Kelski eyed the equipment and built items scattered around. Some were designed to mimic men; some were other things. Kelski hadn’t been to this place many times, only in her searches for Dess to bring him to dinner. She dwelled far more in the tower, working, than she did down on the ground. But now she could see he’d not remained idle with his time. The Kelvic split off from Dess’ shadowy wake and circled the training ring, studying it. She’d seen such things before, in Tall Johnny’s and the Blood Pits. She’d killed her first human deliberately in one. Her skin rippled with the memory, that human having returned as a ghost as well. The thought stiffened her spine and caused her to pause in her deliberate circumnavigation. She glanced over at Dess and paused when he gestured for her to join him. She did, deliberately, carefully, keeping space between them.

Then he spoke and it chilled her. She couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t bypass skirt the truth. Instead she simply informed him quietly…. “I will never be without a knife.” She said, reaching behind her and drawing the black blade that seemed to swallow the darkness around it. She studied it a moment, put it away, knowing it vanished from sight the moment it was sheathed in the small of her back, and glanced at him. “It’s with me even when we are together, alone, at night without a stitch of clothing on.” She said softly. The same with my magic. Its in my blood and if it was ever taken from me, I would be in a place I would not need it any longer. I would be dead.” She said simply, then glanced around.

She liked his grin, but it made her nervous. Did he really want to know this part of her? What would he think? Kelski licked her black lips and glanced around, studying him finally when her eyes had taken in all her other potential weapons. “Dess… do you really want to know this part of me?” She whispered, then shook her head, knowing he did. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked.

“I would do anything to immediately disable and kill you. There are weapons all around me, even though you say I have none. I would grab two fists of sand and I would come straight at you. Darvin attacked me so many times with a dagger I learned to take its bite in places it does little damage initially and go under or through the stances he made to get straight to him. I would blind you immediately with the sand all around us. Then when you were trying to compensate, I would disarm you, use your own knife against you, and kill you. I do not want to do any of these things to you. I would if you were a stranger, but you are no stranger.” She said, all of this in rapid fire curt common, while she mimicked dipping for a handful of sand all the while twisting her body perpendicular to him so she gave him less of a target. With one hand, while he was still mid-lunge, she flung up the imaginary fistful of sand at his eyes and with the other reached for his hand with the imaginary blade.

Kelski didn’t run away, didn’t try to knock the imaginary blade from his hand, instead Dess could tell she’d been trained to control the weapon itself. She slammed into him at the same time she turned her body making herself less of a target. Everything she did bespoke her mastery of knife-fighting, even though she wasn’t armed. Her shoulder drove into his body – though she was smaller and the force counter to his own – and she twisted the captured wrist up into the space between their two colliding bodies. It didn’t guarantee the imaginary knife wouldn’t cut her, but it did guarantee superficial wounds rather than a deep impaling thrust seating itself in her chest. Suddenly, the razor fine faded scars across her stomach and chest, even across her small breasts made sense. With the imaginary wood-chunk aka knife locked between their two bodies, Kelski twisted with him, her shoulder still driven into him, and then reached out with her teeth flashing, fully intending to latch onto an ear or anything else she could tear away with her teeth. Her mouth snapped just shy of his earlobe with her still twisting him, though he did note she didn’t try to trip him or throw him to the ground. His balance was too good and she was too small of frame to have much control over his big body untrained. She just kept him moving in any resistanceless way, so he was more aware of her other parts and less aware of the knife he wasn’t easily controlling now.

And for all her size, her grip was strong, firm, and wasn’t going to easily let him twist or stab the captured blade-not-blade between them. If he called a halt, she’d relax and step away instantly. Until then, the Kelvic would try to keep him off balance and not knowing what she was going to do next in their grappling position.

[Dessarian]

He had known, intellectually, about the nature of Kelvics. They were a part of the tightly knit families that dwelt in their hidden towers in the Wildlands. He even knew a few, though not closely. But it was all academic until he met Kelski. Then it became experiential. He witnessed how the animal instincts sometimes wrestled with the human world, the nature of those around her. But only when the bond entangled Kelski and he together, did he see how truly ignorant he was.

She was more than an animal with human traits, more than an eagle, more than a woman. Kelski exceeded the sum of those parts. She was unique, as unique as anyone Dess had met. Enigmatic in many ways, guarded of her past, scarred by life, strengthened by surviving extreme trials. But what was truly revealing was what the bond afforded him, and her, in what was shared between them. Of thought, of emotion. There was nothing like it, to be a part of someone, not figuratively, but quite literally.

He knew what he was doing. Dess never doubted for one moment Kelski's ability to defend herself. She was skilled, intelligent and clever. A street fighter of great resource, and an ever armed mage, she described in detail how she would deal with an attacker. For Kelski, killing was no moral quandary, when it became necessary. Dess too would, and had killed without hesitation. But he also learned violence was a tool of varying degrees.

Dess didn't know exactly how Kelski would react. He had not seen her fight hand-to-hand. But he did know she would react hard and fast, like the eagle snatching a fish from the bay in tearing talons. The Kelvic questioned his wisdom, and Dess saw a glimpse of the dark survivor revealed. Like the keen edge of a blade Dess felt it within her, honed dangerous and lethal from danger and abuse. But there was a reason he tapped that deadly side of her. He had to see it, to know. He also had to know if she could temper it. Violence without killing had its merit on occasion, as it had with the survivor of the attack on the Demense by Kalistan's abductors.

She came at him instantly. Kelski had no formal training, but immediately Dess discerned experience and instinct were her guide. Hitting fierce and quick, she made two critical moves. She seized the 'blade' wrist firstly, stealing his open control. Simultaneously, she challenged his balance and focus with the shoulder slam. The Kelvic had an amazing physique, strong and lean. Moreover, Kelski knew it well, and used it with expertise. But there was more to her effectiveness. Kelski showed no fear of the blade, but a reverence. There was no such thing as a bloodless fight with a knife and their bodies both bore the proof of it. Many fell to a knife because they were paralyzed with the fear of getting cut. The bondmates knew to expect such, better to be cut than disemboweled.

Dess moved with Kelski's momentum, his free hand wrapped around the hand on his wrist. She was wise in keeping him moving, but Dess matched her momentum, denying her any resistant against which she could exert force. That was key. Yes, if Kelski had used her sharp teeth against him, as she clearly indicated she would, it may have turned the stalemate as they moved around the pit. But a trained warrior would persist.

It was unusual, their bodies so closely engaged, not in passion and affection, but in struggle. Still, the feel of Kelski's refined muscles working, the force of her body's movement, how they rubbed against one another in the conflict, had a pleasure all its own. "Defense is not always about killing your opponent." He breathed as they moved. "Sometimes its about incapacitating, intimidating or capturing." He tried to explain before he made his move. Dess planted one foot, continuing to turn with their momentum then suddenly twisting a perpendicular direction. The angle of Kelski's momentum would change as well, threatening her balance. Then Dess pushed hard against her, swept a leg behind her and attempted to knock her down, his hand still gripping hers.

[Kelski]

Kelski didn’t like this.

She pulled absolutely everything in fighting with Dessarian. Kelski didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want to give him any pain or suffering. She’d seen enough of all of that on him when he’d lain half dead after the market when she’d bought him with the cost of a ring.

In a real fight, she’d just kill something if she could and be done with it. She’d mimicked the sand, which would have blinded him if it had been real. She snapped her teeth at his ear rather than rip it off like she should have. Even the wood wasn’t a real blade. The whole thing wasn’t real. She’d never grown up playing pretend. She’d never imagined opponents. Everyone HAD been an opponent. Everyone would have killed her if they had the chance, or perhaps would have done worse. There had been no kindness, no love, no concern… not before Master Li, the elderly jeweler in Lhavit. Sparring had never been something she’d done. Each fight, each lesson, each time she’d picked up a weapon or had been beaten down by someone’s hands had been real. And each time had been life or death.


In coming into contact with Dessarian like this, he could feel a part of her – a carefully cultivated part of her – slipping away, over-ridden by another part of her that he’d glimpsed on the dock that day Dark and Kalistan had arrived. It was an almost monstrous thing that protected her from feeling, from caring, from even remotely taking responsibility in her actions.

And that part of her was cold, empty, and heartless. He could feel one emotion after another after another slide away from their bond until nothing was left but the absence of feeling and the utter overwhelming focus of survival. It wasn’t bestial. Beasts fought or fled, driven by a mirid of needs like hunger or fear. This was something else, something different, birthed of a violent lifespan filled with deliberate injury and deliberate pain.

And that monstrous thing he talked too as they grappled wanted nothing to do with incapacitating, intimidating or capturing. That thing wanted to rip out his beautiful blue eyes and eat them until there were just empty bloody sockets in a contoured wasteland that used to be his face. The thing inside her was aware of his hand over her two-handed grip on his knife wrist – which somehow turned the whole thing into four hands wrestling each other for control. She couldn’t wrestle back control or eliminate his grip since she’d opted for this way. Had he made a swipe, and she’d selected differently, she could have disarmed him with a quick set of moves Darvin had ingrained into her soul. The unfeeling creature made note of her mistake and dismissed what it would cost her – in pain, in violation, even in death. There was no sense in dwelling on mistakes. There was only forward.

Dess was strong enough to lift her of her feet in the grip he had on her grip on his wrist. It wouldn’t be hard. Their size difference was that drastic. Pitch at her back was a reassurance, even though she’d promised not to use it on him; to pretend she wasn’t armed. She could use it on herself if he started to hurt her with no violation of her word, a still-coherent clinical thought traced through her mind. So too was the full djed well in her core a reassurance, rolling and pitching in its need to get free and task itself to something that would even out the fight. But the djed stayed leashed, bound by her word even though her mind was quickly passing to a place where spoken language meant next to nothing.

It was always about killing your opponent.

The cold monstrous thing inside her insisted, countering Dessarian’s words. That was the world Kelski knew. If you left it alive, it came back for you… when you were weak, vulnerable, inattentive, or being stupid. If something attacked and you escaped with your life, you’d better kill it… or worse. Darvin was an example of that. She’d strangled him to death with a garotte wire while he was busy climaxing inside of her. The coldness in her had birthed itself in that moment when she’d released his soul from his soft flesh even as his balls had released their seed into her. Death hadn’t been enough. He’d come back. And when he did, there was no defense against it. She should have destroyed his soul, found a way if there was one, so that it would have ended.

There were countless other fights behind closed doors, in cages at Tall Johnny’s, and even just simply walking the streets of Sunberth to get from one place to another. The captured boys… the boys from the Daggerhands. She’d killed them half crazed on a drug that made her stronger and faster for a time because Darvin had told them they’d be dead by nightfall and they might as well have a little fun before they died. Kelski’s teeth flashed at the memory, and she bared them at Dess… no longer truly seeing him as her bondmate but as something to endure, to survive, to come out on the other side better, stronger, and faster than.

Kelski never sparred. She fought. Each battle was a life or death event. She trained her body hard, but she never faced off against someone else for training, not since Darvin had taught her daggers at their most basic level. This was her first time, and her understanding was imperfect. She acknowledged he liked the contact. She acknowledged that he was in control and guiding them. But it changed nothing of the coldness growing in her, biding its time, waiting, wanting the conflict to end. Even his voice didn’t sooth her… didn’t chase back the cold calculating thing infusing her.

She felt him plant a foot, unable to see it since she was locked up against him. He followed through with her twist, deliberately driving her perpendicular, throwing her off balance. He used his planted foot to throw his weight into her, driving her away from him and down as his free leg swept hers out from beneath her body. Kelski went down hard, focused more on the knife-not-knife than what he’d been doing with his feet. She let go of him completely as she went down, brought her forearms up to cover her face and instead of trying to scramble away, she deliberately let the momentum that had forced her to the ground continue to drive her as she tucked and rolled hard into him. Her legs were free and once she got close enough – ignoring the hard bounce to the earth – she lashed out twice with her legs. One leg’s move was cold – oh so cold – as she attempted to slam one foot hard into his knee forcing it backwards if she could. The other she tried to drive into his crotch, at the same time, to disable him completely. There was no fear in her, no fight or flight instinct. She wasn’t scared or even acknowledging the jarring pain of being thrown to the ground. She just kept moving, a cold emotionless void inside, keeping to her promise not to use magic or draw Pitch, but also fully now committed to the fight.

Whether her feet connected with where she kicked or not, her hands didn’t go idle. No part of her was idle. Her lungs were dragging in air, her heart was pumping, and she was now fighting. Really fighting. There was no more pretend. There was no more play. Her forearms dropped from the protective spot in front of her face, shielding it from the wood-pretend knife, and she grabbed fistfuls of whatever she could get off the sand circle they were in. Before the kicks were even completed, she was throwing actual sand in his face, aiming for his eyes. There was no love in her. There was no concern. There was no actual thought to anything other than what was next to survive.

[Dessarian]

There was a difference between doubting oneself and admitting a misjudgment. Dess was confident in is ability, his judgment and his motives. His misjudgment was missing the subtle cues that whispered at him, through the bond and by his own familiarity with his bondmate. She was not comfortable with the scenario. His pride said she needed to learn something from him. She would prove him very wrong.

Dess even sensed the change. It was clear Kelski grew steadily less sure of the sparring once they stepped into the circle of sand. Dess heard the stark sincerity of her voice, watched the fierce gaze that flashed as Kelski described exactly what she would do if he had been a threatening attacker. There was unquestionable intent permeating the Kelvic’s behavior. It was to kill, and she was clear that she knew how to do it very well. The dark monologue, the dangerous edge that his bondmate bared, should have been enough for him to see. She didn’t need to spar.

And yet, he pressed on. Dess didn’t doubt Kelski was capable of and readily would do those things she described to an attacker. Not after looking into eyes that had become feral and deadly. And then, she showed him.

Kelski pulled back, even as he had. It was how sparring worked, how one trained. But the pull of her muscle, the intensity of her breathing, the cold silver glare, betrayed a descent past mock combat into something viscerally darker. The precious touch points between their beings, the strands through which they shared emotions, snapped one by one, like the anchor strands of a spider's web. As they fought for the faux knife, the Kelski he knew became the Kelksi he didn’t. The thing he glimpsed now, not through the bond, but in every other sense he had, was raw instinct and self-preservation. Ticks went by like chimes. He should have released, should have stopped it there.

But it was too late, he was in motion, and Kelski was intent on defending herself the only way she knew how. Muscle memory followed through, casting Kelski to the ground. He would immobilize an opponent in that position with an arm bar to keep them in check. But the Kelvic's motion didn't stop, preventing him from finishing the maneuver. She just rolled back enough to chamber her legs, and let fly two fierce, snapping kicks. The first struck the knee cap of his forward leg. The leg was bent, Dess never locked his legs in a fight. While it prevented the head on strike from compromise the joint, it did shake him enough to miss blocking the immediate second kick to his groin. Solidly crushing his sac, Dess groaned loudly, followed by a growling "Petch!"

His training kept him from reaching for his crotch, which exploded and shot like searing lightning up through his abdomen. The agony itself was nearly blinding, but the fistfuls of sand did blind him, forcing his eyes shut. Tightening his core, Dess resisted doubling over. But he did yank free of Kelski's grip, the piece of wood was cast aside. Dess took a step back, one hand up defensively as he brush the sand from his face quickly with the other.

Adrenaline thumped through his body, and the instinct to gather djed to his upper body had to be subdued. She was not an enemy, after all, Kelski was doing exactly what he asked her to do.

With a tentative grip on his pain, Dess stood where he was, spitting dust from his mouth and wiping it from his eyes. “Alright, Alright!” He spoke up, his voice a bit strained. “That’s enough. Its not going to do any good if we end up hurting each other.” He panted slightly, eyes on Kelski. He didn’t looking at her the way he did, almost like a stranger.

“I’m sorry I made you do this.” A harsh past had created her. Dess didn’t know all of it, but he knew enough. He had been in the fighting pits of Sunberth, he had a taste of the brutality of kill or be killed. He had been beaten nearly to death. In essence, when Kelski and he met, they were at their lowest points. She in a terrified panic and he on death's doorway. He could not let himself forget from where they came.

Dess looked at Kelski, his teeth clenched. He profoundly disliked the feeling he had, having for a moment the feeling of being an enemy of the woman he loved.

[Kelski]

His words cut through her focus. And she found herself scrambling to her feet, then backwards, in an inhuman crouch, eyes fixed on him with a mercurial stare that was unblinking. She was breathing hard, though fit enough the tussle shouldn’t be winding her. She heard his words, but it took a bit for them to register. Hurting each other? Wasn’t that the point? He’d wanted to see what she could do. Kelski gave herself a shake, like a bird settling its feathers, and pushed her now-loose hair out of her eyes where it had come free of her braid.

He was … sorry? Sorry he made her do this? The words echoed around in her brain, unregistered at first, since she was more concerned about his next move. The words could have been taunts or scolding’s or even promises of pain. They could have even been reassurances and mutterings of love. It just didn’t register. She was too busy watching his body language, his hands, where his eyes looked. She pushed back another two feet, staying low to the ground. She glanced at the piece of wood he’d tossed away, as if automatically noting the location of the weapon-not-weapon.

She was calm, even though her breathing might have suggested otherwise. It was as if her body was loading up on much needed oxygen in anticipation of more to come. Still, it took her a long time to really ‘see’ him again. She could see him just fine, but he could tell via their link the moment she stopped seeing him as a threat and started seeing him as Dessarian again. She stiffened then, rose to her full height, and noted the dirt he’d wiped out of his eyes and the pain radiating in his groin.

“I hurt you.” She said softly, horror slightly coloring her whispered words. “Dess…. I… Dess… “ She swore then, coming forward, closing the distance between them. She glanced down at her hands, still covered with the sand she’d grabbed up to fling at him. She wiped them on her legs furiously, as if erasing what she’d just done.

“I… Dess… I didn’t want that.” She said, stating the obvious. “I don’t understand what we are doing here. I understand training… getting stronger, but I don’t want to fight you. I will always fight beside you. But I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know what you are doing here. Why do you want me to attack you?” She said, uncertainty crossing her face, confusion all over her demeanor. Kelski didn’t apologize.

There was no excuse or apology she could utter that would make amends for slamming a foot into his groin. “Are you… are they… damaged?” She asked, almost choking over the words. She’d smashed men’s balls before, beyond repair, and had even relieved them of their reproductive organs altogether during fights. But with him…. with him there was no excuse. This was her mate… her other half… and she could feel the pain radiating throughout his body though he showed none of it to her.

The Sea Eagle had no words to explain to him that she’d never simply sparred. Even when Darvin had shown her all he knew about daggers, they were life and death fights. He talked while he hurt her, teaching her to avoid pain and avoid bodily damage by showing her how many ways people could do things to others using honed metal. She’d learned fast, the hard way, and her graduation had been something horrific. She lost sight of Dess for a moment, her eyes taking on a far-off gaze that mostly meant she knew she was safe enough to travel inside her mind.

There was a room… a room full of Daggerhand boys. She thought she’d forgotten it. He’d brought her there and told the boys they were going to die before morning. He’d gave her a bandolier of daggers, and though the boys were bigger and stronger than she was, they were unarmed. He’d then told the boys they might as well have some fun before they died… and she was the fun. It had been kill or be killed, about fifteen to one. She’d been busy killing them before Darvin had finished speaking. They wanted her, her weapons, and simply something to hurt that they didn’t have to let go or hold back on.

She still thought of that place in the Sun’s Birth Barracks as the Bloodroom. She’d been still standing at the end of it, but the boys, some as young as eight, and some as old as sixteen… had been dead. Each and every kill in that room flashed through her mind, transmitting down the link to Dessarian as if he’d been standing there himself. And she hadn’t been unscathed. Bloody, bruised, weak from all the fighting and bleeding, Kelski had just wanted someplace safe to sleep for a while. One of her eyes had been swollen shut for three full days after that training session.

Then she’d been put in the ring against another woman who wanted her dead because the woman was high on one of Darvin’s substances. Kelski had not wanted to kill her, not at least until it was clear the woman would kill her. Another lesson, quickly learned, with a corpse on the other side of it.

Then there’d been Darvin’s death itself. It had been another lesson, one in which she couldn’t afford to feel anything. She’d just fled, trying to get home, with Little Rhaus clutched in her arms. This shouldn’t have been one of those lessons. Dess wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was trying to get her to hurt him. There as no one else here that would threaten her, but still she didn’t understand.

People forgot that Kelvics had short lives. She was only a handful of years old and her experiences were narrow – incredibly limited – and she had truly no idea what he was trying to do. “Do what Dessarian? You didn’t make me do anything. I want to be with you. I want to do things with you. But I don’t want to hurt you. Help me understand why you want me to show you … to attack you… to … do this. I don’t like this.” She added.

And it was clear then, or at least it should be, that she didn’t even remotely understand that he’d simply wanted to see what she could do… how much she knew. Tests in her life weren’t like what Dessarian had in mind. They were death matches; every single one of them.

“I kill, Dess, naturally. I do everything I can to survive.” She said eventually, shame coloring the bond and her voice. It was as close to an apology as she could make. It was horrifying, truthfully, but it had kept her whole and thriving. She couldn’t read more than that into it. She refused too. If she listed all her failings, the length would be extraordinarily long and it would wound something fundamental inside her.

“Why do you want me to hurt you? Do you want to hurt me?” She asked, certain that wasn’t true, but voicing the question anyhow. “I don’t understand this… any of it. How is this training?” She said, glancing then at his crotch, hoping he was better… hoping she’d not done damage. She still hadn’t touched him, hadn’t come within arm’s length – though she was close. Kelski wanted to. Yet now she felt dirty somehow.

Word Count: 1253

[Dessarian]

Dessarian's experience was far different from the dangerous Kelvic that crouched menacingly before him, at least at the beginning. Before he ever faced na enemy bent on killing him, Dess endured focused, rigorous training in the ways of the Damazar. His first weapon was his mind, vigorously drilled and exercised to remain clear and perceptive in the midst of chaos. He was taught to find calm when pain, stress and emotions battered him. It was a near spiritual command of his thoughts and emotions that would carry him through battle.

His second weapon was his body. Honed with equally rigorous discipline, his muscles were not only strengthened and stretched to perform physical feats, but bound to his mind with repetition and practice, until techniques of combat came as reflexive response...precise, intentional and destructive.

Finally, was the magic. Flux was introduced to Dess by a K'etir trainer, to further enhance the efficacy of his well-tuned musculature, to add power to the precision methods of his unarmed martial skills. Only then, after he was shaped and honed, when his disciplined mind and body were made manifest in the fighting schools of Riverfall and in the streets, alleys and palaces of the cities of Mizahar, did Dessarian's devotion to his teaching garner the attention of Wysar himself. The Damazar's final weapon was a gift from divinity itself, Evantia.

But when it came to the difference between he and Kelski, Dess required perspective. That came through the cord between them, quickened again when they disengaged. Sharp, unsettling memories unfurled in his mind's eye. Young Kelski and the trials she endured, the experiences that whet the razor edge of her violence. Dess knew Kelski's primal instinct and harsh education at the tip of weapons meant to harm her proved mercilessly effective. The formality of training, of sparring, was something she neither experienced, nor required.

They were a dangerous, deadly pair. But Dess foolishly failed to consider what made them what they were as individuals. His ways were not his bondmate's, and to try to conform her to his style was not productive. Dess' crystalline blue eyes searched for Kelski's as she spoke, as she tried to make sense of something he had forced on her without explanation or reason.

He sighed, the ache still thrumming from his sac up into his abdomen, another dull pain behind his knee cap. But they were easily ignored as they began to wane.

"This is how I was trained. Its not about trying to hurt the other person, its about training you body and mind in the movements. Not connecting strikes, but learning to aim them. Not about snapping joints, but feeling how to set yourself to do so. It can be rough, but I would never ask you to hurt me, and I would never want to hurt you, Kels." He tried to explain.

Dess took a step closer to his bondmate, his own adrenaline subsiding. His hand extended, open as an offering. "We fight differently, but that makes us stronger when we are side by side, like you said." A cold breeze kicked up, tossing strands of tawny hair across his face before they settled again to frame his features. "This...I won't ask you to do again. If we train, we train together, side by side, but not against one another."

[Kelski]

Kelski stood quietly then, after her admission, and watched him think things through. She hadn’t expected him to react, not really, nor to say much. Dessarian wasn’t a person that spoke what he knew without great introspection. But standing there before him, she couldn’t help but wonder what he must think. At first, she tried not to consider it. Had he realized who she really was? Did he understand what sort of creature he’d bonded with? She closed her eyes, turned away, and fought that feeling of being ‘dirty’ all over again.

He’d held an innocent child in his arms once upon a time, made vows to that child, and looked for her. She wasn’t that child, though. She’d never gotten the chance to be that child. And she had to wonder how many times he’d imagined what she’d grow into and who she’d become had she survived. Kelski couldn’t help but feel like she’d fallen short of any expectation. And she hated the sensation.

Dessarian had started to feel like home to her, a home she’d never had. She glanced behind them, up the bluff, at the beginnings of the Meraki and to The Midnight Gem who was as alive to her as a living breathing child. She glanced back at Dessarian. The differences were clear. And yet Kelski couldn’t help but wonder if building her physical home would be far better than putting herself out there for a human to find faults in. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want him to hurt her. She didn’t think this was about that, but as he stood there thinking; she stood there thinking.

Finally, he gave her words. He was trained a specific way. But she still didn’t understand how him asking her to show him what she could do related about learning to aim. She didn’t understand the difference between connecting strikes verses learning how to aim strikes? It didn’t makes sense to her, and she couldn’t help but feel stupid.

Dessarian was warrior raised and bred. She was just….

The Kelvic hissed softly. Yes, they were different. It didn’t make them stronger. She couldn’t disagree more. All her life she’d been different. She didn’t want to be different. It wasn’t a compliment. But she said nothing. What could she say? He said he wouldn’t ask her to do this again. He wouldn’t because it was a failure. She stiffened when he stepped closer. He looked calmer, but she wasn’t remotely there yet. The Kelvic was still breathing roughly, though not because she was winded. Her breath reflected her whirling mindset; her chaotic thoughts. She stared at his offered hand and shook her head.

She looked from his outstretched hand to his wind tossed hair, scanning his face without meeting his eyes. Kelski hissed again, her frustration evident. Then she wiped her own palm on her pants, and reached out to take his hand.

She wondered what he wanted now. She should leave him here to do his own training his own way without her. There was work she could do; so much work. Kelski started to think of what needed her attention the most. The Kelvic needed to go back to doing what she was good at and leave this other stuff for others that were better at it.

She licked her lips and still wouldn’t meet Dess’ eyes. They hadn’t ever fought… not really. Not before now. What must he think? Stupid beast? A weak female? She suddenly wanted to sink her beak into something and rend it limb from limb. It wasn’t anger. It was frustration. She gave his hand a squeeze and released it.

“I have work to do. I should go do it. Maybe we’ll do this again sometime…. Sometime differently.” She added. Kelski hoped it was a cue for him to let her leave. She wanted to gather her dignity privately and think more about what had happened.