@[member="Daxton Bane"]
Spaceport
Their hands met with such great force (pun intended) that Daxton was sent flying backward. Ryori didn't notice this right away, of course, considering that she had to focus on protecting herself against the explosion of power as well. The clarity of her Battle Meditation allowed her just that split second more of reaction time, which was the determining factor between a sprained wrist and a broken one. As she felt the build up of power surge like water behind a dam, Ryori allowed her body to relax. If you resisted a blow, a lot of times the injury wound up being worse because of it.
Ryori exhaled, and her body flipped back head over heels, but only once. She controlled herself, one hand touching the ground as her feet landed a split second later, her boots skidding back along the ground until she came to an immediate stop. Her hand dragged against the coarse durasteel floor and she grimaced as it peeled and grated flesh. Her left arm, much like Daxton's, was numb and sore, but she had fared better than him thanks to her Meditation. For just a moment, she stayed how she was, crouched on the floor with both her feet and one hand bracing her steady.
And then, life passed. The Grandmaster.
Ryori felt it, and registered it, but much like her arm it was numb. Ever since that day, ever since the sensation of billions of deaths happening simultaneously around her, feeling death through the Force just didn't have the same potency, no matter how strong the connection of the deceased was with it. "Did you feel that Jedi Master? This day is won. Run back to the rock you crawled out from under and never bother us again. Today the Dark Side has won."
Standing up casually, Ryori examined her hand with a frown. Her joints ached badly, and she had lost so much skin that her hand burned. She could barely even flex it without her body crying out in pain, but that pain did not register on her face. Using that hand to fight was going to be an absolute queen, but it could have been way worse. That Battle Meditation probably saved her a few broken bones, she mused. Taking a moment, she listened in on her comm to the feeds coming in from the Mandalorians. Shaking her hand a bit, she looked up at Daxton. "I'm sorry, did you say something? I was distracted listening to the Mandalorians destroying your relay stations and taking over this here spaceport, among a few other things. But go on, don't let me stop you from celebrating your singular murder."
No. Shits. Given. Ryori eyed him a bit, with his saber out and the cryo grenades. His arm must have broken. She smirked. "I see you brought your glow stick out again. I didn't hurt you did I? I can be so careless sometimes. And I'm sure Grandmaster Efreet was an exemplary midget, but I really couldn't care less that he's dead. People die in war. No reason to be a pussy about it." She didn't bother addressing the fact that she wasn't a Jedi. He'd figure that out soon enough on his own. Maybe.
After a certain point of seeing so much death around you -- and often times being the cause of it-- you just stop caring when people die. And truthfully, Ryori had never cared much about it to begin with. Apathy was truly a way of life, and she's spent her entire existence perfecting it. Besides, Ryori had been at this much longer than Daxton, and she knew one very important thing: It wasn't the death that made the difference, or even who died, it was how you reacted to it. So the Grandmaster had died? Woopdie-friggin-doo. Another sap would step up to take his place. Ryori wasn't going to sit there quivering in her boots, particularly when the Grandmaster had been the one spitting out his juice at Ryori's arrival.
Ryori really, really hoped Daxton planned on using those cryo grenades. Her smirk never faltered, even as she lightly blew a stray raven colored curl from her face. Reaching into an inside pocket on the top of her gi, Ryori pulled out a metal flask. "I'll give him a toast, though," she told Daxton, flicking open the cap and taking a drink of the whiskey inside. With a satisfied sigh, she snapped the cap back in place and put it back into her pocket.
"Anyway, are you ready to fight now? Or do you have to take a break after every punch to catch your breath and run your mouth like anything you have to say is important?"
