One thing I still don't get, after having a whole day to think about it... And I don't know if people dream the same things, when they get weird ones like this, or if it's just me, but
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[Shiek on the floor gives Riqis the moment to recover and gain upper hand...or so he thinks, but then there's legs flying for his face again and the boy has just enough reaction time to begin springing backward- feet catch him on the chest, and he lands with both hands clutching at Soul Eater to hold his balance, short for breath.
These acrobatics leave him wide-eyed, gaze darting to keep up, his focus for once forced to the defensive, instead of the blind aggression that would drive some of his stronger attacks...it reminds him of the way his new friend Yuffie can move, leaves him feeling stiff-limbed and not as quick to adapt...he'll give it his best, but even if he's natural fast, its a little out of his league, to fight this way.
...so when his opponent draws a short blade, its almost a relief. Now he's shifting into more comfortable territory, and can relish the satisfying clang when the knife meets the flat edge of his sword, even if the blade's stopped only inches from his neck, and he has to scoop his own weight sideways to flinch out of its way.
He keeps both hands on Soul Eater's hilt to force the knife aside, but after that it's back to wielding it one-handed, like a wicked scimitar, while his other hand fists across his front, to block any incoming limbs he's rather not slice off in a practice match.]
[Riqis' force throws him off, puts an end to the shriek of the blades locked together. To his credit, he manages not to stumble. Instead, he feints left, feints down, and instead leaps straight in, again leading with his shoulder - he only follows with the knife for now. Whilst Sheik doesn't believe in holding back, he's also not about to cut up one of his Queen's friends.
But this is good, enjoyable, every movement swinging easily into the next. It's the sort of thoughtless, effortless work, calculation done automatically. Exactly what he wanted - to not have to think, to leave coherency and composure behind, for a little while. That's what his past few days have been - pushing himself, running a little faster, jumping a little higher, all in the name of Forgetting.
Leaping back out of the way once more, he kept up a dance briefly, dodging and weaving. The knife is used as a shield more than anything, blocking any artful sweeps of the sword when they are a few inches from him. Soon enough, however, he's darting in again, under one slice and twisting his body around another, almost serpentine.]
You're not bad at all.
[The words might not seem chiding, but from Sheik they're simply earnest. But he's not about to waste time with talking - down that road lies thought, precisely what he seeks to evade. And so, he throws himself into the fight again, knife tearing through the air.]
[He feels toyed with, by the blur of movement, elbowed in the chest more than once, shoved around just enough to keep his swordwork off and less-than-precise...it seems wherever there's an opening, its there in one instant and by the time he's brought Soul Eater around, his challenger's ducked somewhere else.
Its very different from the blunt rush of clobbering he's come to expect from Sora in the past, or from facing off with a mirror image of himself.
There's hardly time to strategize either, only react and try to squeeze a few offensive sweeps between, broad slashes, but that's mostly to give himself some space to move in, and hold the other fighter off from weaving in too close.
He'll have some bruises and sore ribs by the time is over. But the thrill rush is good, the intensity is a sharp and welcome change from sitting up on the rooftops after dark, waiting for the worst to come.]
Hnh! You were expecting less from me?
[He counters finally several moments after Sheik's observation, a growl of ego as another close swing is caught by the knife's parry...he presses his weight in slower, leaning in from the opposite shoulder as he's seen his match do several times now, to keep balance and twist the blades locked.]
[The adapting, the adapting is good, and he wonders just how it is that Riqis works. There's definitely something strange about him, something Sheik can feel. He mulls it over, absent, distant, dipping out and lunging in again. Can't have either of them getting complacent now, especially when it's doing everything he needs to and he has a vague idea that this might just be of interest to Zelda.
Yes, there'll be plenty of bruising from this bout, but Sheik could care less, by now he's revelling in it. Whilst it may seem like he's totally composed, barely putting anything into at all - there's no bead of sweat on his brow, no real pant to his breath - in truth he's being kept up with well. He's immensely glad he took the time out for this - sometimes running just doesn't cut it, after all.
He locks his knife against the dark blade in Riqis' hands, pushing back against it - a simple test of strength, really. As he shoves up against it, he meets the other's eyes.]
I was not sure what to expect.
[It's a simple admission giving with surprising ease, his muscles drawn tight. However strong Riqis is, it's strong enough, he's pleased to see - he puts an end to their locked blades by drawing back a mere inch and spinning, edge of the knife out in a curve that could potentially take half of his opponents face off - if either of them let it.]
[He admits thinly, through grit teeth, wishing he'd caught the knife just a little closer to hilt, where the sword's hooked barb might have been able the clinch it loose. The tension gathers in the center of his free palm, and he's barely even aware of it, the wisping dark, until Shiek withdraws and whirls into a countering slice-]
Hnnh!!
[It happens in the brief instant that seems to take a lifetime, when replayed later, in his mind. His left arm pummels forward as the right with Soul Eater flings wide with loosed momentum. He staggers a foot forward for balence, sees the path of the knife and startles at it's line of narrow shave, eyes snapping closed in a wincing reflex, instincts jarring a reckless counter, unleashed in abandon.
His palm flexes open between them, mid-torso, and from it the darkness erupts in a roaring combustion of energy, like wind and inky smoke, an elemental burst that isn't quite fire but sears with fierceness like it, the strength of raw emotion and destruction craved by the heart.]
Magic. Magic, almost like fire and yet so different, so much more. Since one of his four deaths was thanks to the flames wielded by a witch, for a moment he is simply stunned by the fact it is happening. His eyes go wide, a small, choked sort of gasp sounding in his throat - a rare show of emotion when fighting.
But he's not going to let himself get hit by it.
Up or down? He throws himself flat to the ground, graceless, the movement born purely of needing to get out of the way. His body folds into a roll, oddly like a stumble somehow as he moves sidewards. His movement is no less formidable when he lashes out a low kick at Riqis' ankles, but it's wilder, less polished.
Gathering up the knife he dropped with a flail of one arm, he moves to strike again, the smell of something that's fire and dark all in one electric in the air.]
[The replica sputters out a grunt of frustration when the force doesn't connect, when it doesn't blast his opponent up six feet away on his back, and clutches his hand briefly to his heart in recovery as he slides sideways, opposite from the direction of Shiek's drop-dodge.
...the darkness is awake out of the bag now. It no longer waits, and claws on his insides for attention, for use. The lashing little stinger of a blade and the limber fighter wielding it shouldn't be any match for what it can do, it wants to demonstrate its range of power, it itches to be feared, it hungers for more of that startled look in the eye.
And so he springs into the air while Shiek is at ground level, Soul Eater arced high in the hair and ready to slam down in an aerial blow, a Dark Break that Riku's made unrelenting use of on himself, in the past.
No!.
On the searing bright edge of his mind, mid-air, the memory of her protest awakens.
This is only supposed to be a practice go-
He jerks his blade higher at the last instant, and flails to kick off whatever part of body he can connect with instead, falling hard to a crouch with a stabbing weight that drives Soul Eater straight into the ground, where the darkness is swallowed up with another vicious crackle of purpled ozone, prickling through the air.]
[Sheik looks up, sees a black flash as the blade begins to arc down towards him. For a moment, he thinks - actually thinks - that he may well just have earned himself the Fifth, unless Prince is around to run him to Zelda, which he won't be, of course. For a moment, he remembers Dark Link, leering over him, his smiling mouth that of a rabid dog. He is genuinely convinced in that split-second that it's over. And it only lasts that single moment, Riqis a dark blur in the air.
He rolls, and is only vaguely aware that he was grazed by a kick, not being run through the chest. He hears the sound of the sword embedding into dirt instead, and that's what convinces him that he missed it - the sound. Another moment passed and he flipped to sit up in a half-kneel, half-crouch, eyes on the youth before him, magic jolting in the air, violet and black like heavy storm clouds.
For a while, he's silent, only now showing a little bit of weariness, a bit of a pant, shoulders slack for now. And then he spins the knife away, back into the sheathe, and picks himself up easily, appearing no worse for wear.
He offers Riqis one of his rare, small smiles, and inclines his half-masked head in a bow.]
That was impressive. However, I think we'll call an end now.
[The boy is still reeling in shock with himself, knees bent at either side of the toothed hilt-guard, shuddering his breath to a slower sucking gulp of air as the energy dissipates and the withered patch of grass between his feet curls, as if smoldering from some blight-touch.
Its silent, and he can hear his opponent breathing, close by, but nothing further comes, not until the quiet shink of a blade being put away.
Riqis bows his forehead against the end of the sword then, shutting his eyes, feeling something tugging between pride and shame at his heart.]
I'm done....
[He hears himself speaking before he's realized he's let his lips agree, nodding with silver curtaining his face.]
I'm done....I yield.
[Staggering to his feet as well, muscles groaning into a throbbing ache, he grasps his sword and moves to wrench it from the dirt, but Soul Eater seems to sense it isn't needed anymore, and fades in a wisp of shadow until summoned for again.
He stands for a moment, numb, avoiding Shiek's eyes before glancing up warily, quick, nodding the sort of shaken nod of one who suddenly isn't so sure in himself.
Impressive. Hnn. He'll take the compliment, but the acknowledging 'You Too.' that follows sounds a little humbled.]
[He watches the other through his hair, quietly curious. Evidently, this is something Riqis needs to work on, and evidently, he knows that himself, which is good, always the first step. The smile tugs Sheik's lips again, a little understanding, a little rueful, but he says nothing - the words aren't ones that come easy in situations like this, after all, and he's not even sure if it would be appreciated.
It's done, after all, and he has pressing duties, work and work and work and making sure he doesn't have to think, making sure when he goes to sleep he does it instantly, with as few dreams as possible. His eyes linger still, wondering, wondering about the power of the one before him, wondering about the blade and that strange magic. There are a lot of questions he could ask, and would like to, but now is not the time.
So he simply bows his head in the end once more, his words flat, but earnestly spoken.]
Thank you for that.
[And then, backing off a few paces, he throws a deku nut, and seemingly disappears in the ensuing flash of brilliant white light. And it's back to running, running, running, and hoping he leaves his troublesome, traitorous trails of thoughts behind him.]
These acrobatics leave him wide-eyed, gaze darting to keep up, his focus for once forced to the defensive, instead of the blind aggression that would drive some of his stronger attacks...it reminds him of the way his new friend Yuffie can move, leaves him feeling stiff-limbed and not as quick to adapt...he'll give it his best, but even if he's natural fast, its a little out of his league, to fight this way.
...so when his opponent draws a short blade, its almost a relief. Now he's shifting into more comfortable territory, and can relish the satisfying clang when the knife meets the flat edge of his sword, even if the blade's stopped only inches from his neck, and he has to scoop his own weight sideways to flinch out of its way.
He keeps both hands on Soul Eater's hilt to force the knife aside, but after that it's back to wielding it one-handed, like a wicked scimitar, while his other hand fists across his front, to block any incoming limbs he's rather not slice off in a practice match.]
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But this is good, enjoyable, every movement swinging easily into the next. It's the sort of thoughtless, effortless work, calculation done automatically. Exactly what he wanted - to not have to think, to leave coherency and composure behind, for a little while. That's what his past few days have been - pushing himself, running a little faster, jumping a little higher, all in the name of Forgetting.
Leaping back out of the way once more, he kept up a dance briefly, dodging and weaving. The knife is used as a shield more than anything, blocking any artful sweeps of the sword when they are a few inches from him. Soon enough, however, he's darting in again, under one slice and twisting his body around another, almost serpentine.]
You're not bad at all.
[The words might not seem chiding, but from Sheik they're simply earnest. But he's not about to waste time with talking - down that road lies thought, precisely what he seeks to evade. And so, he throws himself into the fight again, knife tearing through the air.]
Reply
Its very different from the blunt rush of clobbering he's come to expect from Sora in the past, or from facing off with a mirror image of himself.
There's hardly time to strategize either, only react and try to squeeze a few offensive sweeps between, broad slashes, but that's mostly to give himself some space to move in, and hold the other fighter off from weaving in too close.
He'll have some bruises and sore ribs by the time is over. But the thrill rush is good, the intensity is a sharp and welcome change from sitting up on the rooftops after dark, waiting for the worst to come.]
Hnh! You were expecting less from me?
[He counters finally several moments after Sheik's observation, a growl of ego as another close swing is caught by the knife's parry...he presses his weight in slower, leaning in from the opposite shoulder as he's seen his match do several times now, to keep balance and twist the blades locked.]
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Yes, there'll be plenty of bruising from this bout, but Sheik could care less, by now he's revelling in it. Whilst it may seem like he's totally composed, barely putting anything into at all - there's no bead of sweat on his brow, no real pant to his breath - in truth he's being kept up with well. He's immensely glad he took the time out for this - sometimes running just doesn't cut it, after all.
He locks his knife against the dark blade in Riqis' hands, pushing back against it - a simple test of strength, really. As he shoves up against it, he meets the other's eyes.]
I was not sure what to expect.
[It's a simple admission giving with surprising ease, his muscles drawn tight. However strong Riqis is, it's strong enough, he's pleased to see - he puts an end to their locked blades by drawing back a mere inch and spinning, edge of the knife out in a curve that could potentially take half of his opponents face off - if either of them let it.]
Reply
[He admits thinly, through grit teeth, wishing he'd caught the knife just a little closer to hilt, where the sword's hooked barb might have been able the clinch it loose. The tension gathers in the center of his free palm, and he's barely even aware of it, the wisping dark, until Shiek withdraws and whirls into a countering slice-]
Hnnh!!
[It happens in the brief instant that seems to take a lifetime, when replayed later, in his mind. His left arm pummels forward as the right with Soul Eater flings wide with loosed momentum. He staggers a foot forward for balence, sees the path of the knife and startles at it's line of narrow shave, eyes snapping closed in a wincing reflex, instincts jarring a reckless counter, unleashed in abandon.
His palm flexes open between them, mid-torso, and from it the darkness erupts in a roaring combustion of energy, like wind and inky smoke, an elemental burst that isn't quite fire but sears with fierceness like it, the strength of raw emotion and destruction craved by the heart.]
Reply
Magic. Magic, almost like fire and yet so different, so much more. Since one of his four deaths was thanks to the flames wielded by a witch, for a moment he is simply stunned by the fact it is happening. His eyes go wide, a small, choked sort of gasp sounding in his throat - a rare show of emotion when fighting.
But he's not going to let himself get hit by it.
Up or down? He throws himself flat to the ground, graceless, the movement born purely of needing to get out of the way. His body folds into a roll, oddly like a stumble somehow as he moves sidewards. His movement is no less formidable when he lashes out a low kick at Riqis' ankles, but it's wilder, less polished.
Gathering up the knife he dropped with a flail of one arm, he moves to strike again, the smell of something that's fire and dark all in one electric in the air.]
Reply
...the darkness is awake out of the bag now. It no longer waits, and claws on his insides for attention, for use. The lashing little stinger of a blade and the limber fighter wielding it shouldn't be any match for what it can do, it wants to demonstrate its range of power, it itches to be feared, it hungers for more of that startled look in the eye.
And so he springs into the air while Shiek is at ground level, Soul Eater arced high in the hair and ready to slam down in an aerial blow, a Dark Break that Riku's made unrelenting use of on himself, in the past.
No!.
On the searing bright edge of his mind, mid-air, the memory of her protest awakens.
This is only supposed to be a practice go-
He jerks his blade higher at the last instant, and flails to kick off whatever part of body he can connect with instead, falling hard to a crouch with a stabbing weight that drives Soul Eater straight into the ground, where the darkness is swallowed up with another vicious crackle of purpled ozone, prickling through the air.]
Reply
He rolls, and is only vaguely aware that he was grazed by a kick, not being run through the chest. He hears the sound of the sword embedding into dirt instead, and that's what convinces him that he missed it - the sound. Another moment passed and he flipped to sit up in a half-kneel, half-crouch, eyes on the youth before him, magic jolting in the air, violet and black like heavy storm clouds.
For a while, he's silent, only now showing a little bit of weariness, a bit of a pant, shoulders slack for now. And then he spins the knife away, back into the sheathe, and picks himself up easily, appearing no worse for wear.
He offers Riqis one of his rare, small smiles, and inclines his half-masked head in a bow.]
That was impressive. However, I think we'll call an end now.
Reply
Its silent, and he can hear his opponent breathing, close by, but nothing further comes, not until the quiet shink of a blade being put away.
Riqis bows his forehead against the end of the sword then, shutting his eyes, feeling something tugging between pride and shame at his heart.]
I'm done....
[He hears himself speaking before he's realized he's let his lips agree, nodding with silver curtaining his face.]
I'm done....I yield.
[Staggering to his feet as well, muscles groaning into a throbbing ache, he grasps his sword and moves to wrench it from the dirt, but Soul Eater seems to sense it isn't needed anymore, and fades in a wisp of shadow until summoned for again.
He stands for a moment, numb, avoiding Shiek's eyes before glancing up warily, quick, nodding the sort of shaken nod of one who suddenly isn't so sure in himself.
Impressive. Hnn. He'll take the compliment, but the acknowledging 'You Too.' that follows sounds a little humbled.]
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It's done, after all, and he has pressing duties, work and work and work and making sure he doesn't have to think, making sure when he goes to sleep he does it instantly, with as few dreams as possible. His eyes linger still, wondering, wondering about the power of the one before him, wondering about the blade and that strange magic. There are a lot of questions he could ask, and would like to, but now is not the time.
So he simply bows his head in the end once more, his words flat, but earnestly spoken.]
Thank you for that.
[And then, backing off a few paces, he throws a deku nut, and seemingly disappears in the ensuing flash of brilliant white light. And it's back to running, running, running, and hoping he leaves his troublesome, traitorous trails of thoughts behind him.]
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