Sea Glass (Complete)

[Kuzo]

Again.

She was starting to hate that word.

Rubbing a hand across her face, she glared at him.

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't feel like I'm getting any better. You keep handing me my rear no matter how hard I'm trying. So if you're just blowing sunshine up my ass to make me feel better, stop. It's not helping."

She eyed him warily as the two circled. It was clear to anyone on the outside that Irajah was hideously out sized, out matched, and out classed. Not simply in the difference in their bodies, but in the very way they moved and physically interacted with the world around them. If this had been a real fight, he would have killed her within the first minute, and they both knew that. She could hardly call what he was doing toying with her- not when teaching her was the goal- but sometimes she wanted to feed the smug expression on his face into her knee a couple of times.

Not that he was going to let her do anything of the sort.

It was hardly fair to compare herself in this case. But how could someone not? All things considered- size, strength, experience- she was doing well. But she couldn't see it in this moment. Some people would have taken that and quit. Why bother if every improvement was meant with a new level of 'haha, remember, you are a bug to me'?

Irajah just got annoyed. And when she was annoyed, she tried harder.

Again.

She darted in, tensing her shoulders as if she was going to throw a quick pair of punches to his face, but instead lashing out with a heel kick to his knee.

In a not uncommon turn of events, Irajah had a moment to admire the ceiling before she slammed into the floor. Again. He'd stepped in, hooking her leg, mid kick, with his arm and jerking up hard enough to pull her other leg out from under her.

"Shouldn't.... you.... be attacking.... me?" She asked, huffing as she stood up, the wind knocked out of her. "Why are we doing it this way? I don't need to be able to attack someone, I need to be able to defend."

[member="Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

It was not a rare occurrence for her to complain like that.

Understandable in one way. After all it could not be a fun exercise to eat concrete every day of the week, but the Sith Lord had warned her prior to this. That it would be this way, that before this was over the hatred would boil over and threaten to consume her. It wasn't that far ahead yet, but the annoyance was the first step into a long line of events. How would Irajah handle it next? That was only for her to say at the end of the day.

Carach was the facilitator, but he could not walk her path for her.

"I am not in the business of blowing anything up your ass." The Sith retorted smoothly as they circled around each other anew and again. "You fight, you lose, you gain experience, this is the way. Every loss will strengthen you."

Of course, the Sith doubted she would ever be his equal in physical battle, but that was sheer genetics and the experience of years guiding his hands and feet and body. There was little training could do, in the greater sense of the word, to truly surpass such an uneven playing ground.

This made sense, because Carach was not training her to be used against him.

He was training her to be used by himself.

Again they danced and again she fell and again she rose and this time she suggested a different method.

There was some measure of sense in her words - Carach did not truly understand dedicated defense, because in his opinion a fortified assault was always the best defense. But... the Sith Lord had no issue admitting that a different avenue could not hurt Irajah in the slightest.

"Very well. Let us try something else then."

 

[Kuzo]

His ready agreement surprised her. And made her more than a little wary.

"Oh. Okay. How do you want to-"

She never got a chance to finish the sentence. [member="Carach"] moved like a viper. She dodged his blow, just barely, his fist grazing her cheek as she sidestepped. She could tell that he was pulling his punches- otherwise even that glancing strike would have sent her spinning. But the jarring fire in her cheek still spoke of his intent.

If she let him, he would hit her.

Irajah danced back as he came in again. His speed to her breath away. Again, she only just managed to avoid his attack, but this time, she tried to counter as he moved past. He caught the roundhouse kick neatly. Pivoting his hips, he threw her almost two meters.

And unlike the previous sessions, this time he gave her no chance to recover.

She rolled as his foot came down, scrambling up- his elbow slammed into her mouth and she tasted blood.

"How am I supposed to learn if you are just going to trounce me?" She snarled.

"If there's enough time to talk, there's enough time to defend. This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Carach smiled.

This time she blocked his kick, but the force knocked her backward anyway, jarring her teeth in her mouth. At least she kept her feet beneath her this time.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

It was a smooth burning dance of fire and smoke.

Intent and action fading in and out in equal measures. They moved, circled around each other and tried to find a way in - more often than not it was Carach who found one, but this in itself was a lesson she needed to learn. To be put on the defense was never a good idea. Always strike first, never let yourself be pushed into a corner where your only option is to defend and wait it out.

This was not the Sith way.

Analyze the situation, figure out the weaknesses and break them, before it turned into a threat.

Once more Irajah tried to cut him down by his knee, he blocked almost impassively and suddenly his head rung as her little fist burrowed itself in his chin. How she had gotten that up high for the punch was anyone's guess, but the Sith Lord took a step back and went through his knees to catch the inevitable over-extension. Irajah saw victory and she moved to secure it.

His hands were already there, catching her leg and twisting it in the air with momentum fast enough that her entire body would twist in the air, before she dropped.

"Very good. A couple of weeks ago I wouldn't even have tasted that punch." The Sith remarked while studying her prone form. "Let's practice grapples next, you will need to learn how to handle strength up-close."

 

[Kuzo]

Triumph was short lived.

Ah, and there's the ceiling again.

Her arm swung out, slapping the mat the way he'd taught her to absorb some of the shock of the drop. It still knocked the wind out of her enough that letting her get her breath back was an appreciated gesture.

Also an annoying one that she needed it.

They had only done grapples once before, over a week ago. He'd gone slowly that time, showing her each step, how to use an opponent's strength against them- the only way to really function if she found herself in that position. Her take away at the time had ultimately been avoid grappling a large opponent at any cost.

He reached out a hand to help her up, and she accepted-

So it was entirely unforeseen when instead he locked her shoulder, dropping to his knees to force her down again as well. There were no alternatives- drop back to the mat or let him dislocate the shoulder. She tried to remember what they had done the last time, shifting her hips to throw him, but she didn't have anything near the skill yet. No muscle memory to fall back on and he casually bapped her face into the mat again.

It had been building for weeks. The frustration. The anger. At her inabilities. At her weaknesses. Yes, she was making progress, but he continued to toss her around like a rag doll every time regardless. She gritted her teeth, moving to stand up again.

And again he drove her into the mat.

"At least let me get back up," she snarled.

"Why should I? Your enemy won't."

She managed to roll over onto her back before he pinned her again.

"Because you're not my enemy-"

"Are you sure of that Irajah?"

It was the last straw. The smugness, the flippancy, that smile. Up until now, they'd never drawn on the Force directly in their sparring. But now she was pissed. She lashed out in the same moment she grabbed his wrists. A blast of telekinesis hit him square in the chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pivoted.

They rolled, and, somehow, ended up in opposite positions, Irajah over [member="Carach"], her hands on his wrists against the mat.

"Yes," she growled. "I'm sure."

And her mouth was on his before another heartbeat passed.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

Brows rose up in surprise as the telekinetic blast hit him straight in the chest.

The very next moment she was already taking advantage of his lack of balance - had Carach been looking at this from the sideline, he probably would have pinked away a tear at the audacity and skill - but he was not. Instead the Sith Lord found himself flying next and then a familiar weight settling itself down on top of him, her hands over his wrists, her breath coarsing into his ears. For a moment time stood still and then her lips were on his.

Nothing happened for a second... and then Carach reacted.

The Sith had leashed himself with the steel resolve around her. She needed the space and loyalty would not be fostered by breaking her trust in him.

All of that went out of the window when she kissed him though.

Hunger reached out and kissed her back, it devolved from there.

 

[Kuzo]

Sometimes, the simple act of taking something back from tragedy was the greatest act of defiance a person could make.

Reclaiming touch was a step Irajah hadn't realized would be critical to reclaiming herself until that moment. That moment of kissing him, of breathing him in wasn't enough to undo months of manipulation that had become so entwined with physicality she lost track of where one ended and the other began. But it was a start. Because it was her choice, with no outside pressures.

As her fingers tightened on his wrists, she knew she still had such a long way to go.

But this next step now was to reclaim something that she wouldn't allow events to take from her. Not [member="Carach"] himself- neither of them belonged to the other and that was one of the reasons this could happen at all. But the enjoyment of touch- if she could reclaim that here in the safety of this place and the respect and distance he had give her....

Well then perhaps she could reclaim it everywhere.

With time.

Time.

In this moment at least, she could pretend that she had all the time in the world.