[1v1] WHY?! (Na'ima/Wrath)

[Eight]

Na'ima had returned from Halloween with great success. It had been far easier to convince Falair to return with her to the Tower than she had worried it would be, making the rest of her visit very enjoyable and stress free. It had also given her a lot of time to think. And that thinking was what had her climbing the tower to parts she had never ventured to explore before, having had no prior interest in any part of the tower higher than Famine. It was an exhausting effort, really. Why did Death have to be so high up?

Finally she made it to the top, but then it occurred to her that..she had no idea where she was going. Sigh. This again. It was just like when she had been trying to find Salbei, but this was going to be a lot less frantic. Still, it meant asking strangers for help.

It was a relief to Na'ima that it didn't take long to find him. A horned Death horseman with a scorpion tattoo named Rathsvith, or Wrath. Every one of them had pointed consistently to the training grounds, which made perfect sense all things considered. She had been curious what they were like until she actually got a look at them.

Why.

She was not stepping foot in here.

But there he was. Good. Na'ima cleared her throat, raising her voice enough to be heard at a distance, an unusual thing for the horsewoman. "Rathsvith," she called out, simply waiting for him to turn around now.

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Nearly every waking moment, Wrath had spent at death's training fields, attempting to regain what time and negligence had taken from him. It had been only a week since his decision to get his act back together, but already he was feeling in much better form then he had been before. His face was no longer marred with a slightly gaunt and hollow look, his arms were beginning to swell with muscle, his stomach was becoming more toned. All of this was made more obvious to any onlookers by his lack of a shirt, as he whirled through the training field with his weapon in hand, dodging and parrying against obstacles and arrows, his full concentration on the task at hand.

That was, until a voice suddenly called out to him, a familiar voice that he recognized immediately as belonging to Na'ima, but in that moment of surprise, he was caught by a downward swinging axe that sent him sprawling in the dirt with a cough and a wheeze.

Death be damned! This was not how he wanted his next encounter with the woman from famine to begin! With a lip curled back from his teeth, he waited until another axe swung by before he rolled back on his shoulders and then pushed up with his hands, springing forward and back to his feet with a grunt in one smooth and lithe motion.

Ducking yet another axe, he turned, raising a hand towards her in greeting, a scowl still drawing down his eyebrows as he made his way off of the training field, and then down it's length towards her.

"You have returned." He commented, once he was close enough to her to speak, a hand lifting to wipe the sweat off of his face. "Your sister?" He asked, curious first and foremost about whether she had managed to convince the other woman to return.

eight

 

[Eight]

Na'ima watched him critically as he dodged weapons and trained himself, and already she did indeed see the difference. It was easy to notice when she had been watching it so closely in his decline, but she would say nothing on it. Her eyes did widen slightly as an axe caught him and sent him to the ground, though it was likely more with surprise than concern. He was fine. Had that been her fault, however? Likely. She hadn't told him she had returned. Ah, well.

She continued to watch him, one arm settled across her midsection and supporting her elbow in the palm of her hand while delicate fingers tapped at her lips over a faintly sheer veil that covered all of her face with the exception of her eyes. He waved to her and she took a moment to return that little wave with a simple turn of her hand before bringing her fingers back to her lips.

"It barely took ten minutes for her to agree to return with me," Na'ima called up to him with a hint of pride to her voice. "I will introduce you to her when she is settled, Falair is...curious..about you." There was a slight hesitation as she tried to think of the right word to describe Falair's thoughts. Curiosity seemed safe enough.

As he reached her she looked him up and down. The hand that had been resting against her lips twitched, moved, hesitated, and then reached out to touch his chest. It was firmer than when she last encountered him. Delicate fingers slid along until they could lay against his arm, pressing against those muscles as well. Yes, he had definitely been working hard in the last week. "Have you been doing this since I left?" She frowned, looking up from his chest to his head, and tilting her own head to one side. "Do you not worry one of those axes will cut your hair? I would be very upset if your hair was cut off before I have a chance to braid it myself, Rathsvith." Pouting, Na'ima brought her hand back to instead pull back the veil that covered the lower portion of her face.

"Kiss me," she demanded pleasantly, her pout gone and replaced with a gentle smile.

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"And yet you were still gone for...what has it been now? A week?" Nonchalant, like he hadn't been paying attention to the passing of the days. And maybe he hadn't, with every bit of his spare time spent exhausting himself on the training field, it may have been that one day simply melted into the next, never ending. When she spoke of an introduction, however, his eyebrows rose. "And why is that, exactly?" He asked, of Falair's curiosity, a small smile forming on his lips.

"What have you been saying about me, Na'ima." His smile became a flash of teeth once he stood in front of her, eyes drinking in the sight of her as well, before flicking towards her hand, which was suddenly laid against his chest.

Unconsciously, the muscles there flexed slightly, and despite how odd it was that she seemed to just wish to touch and prod an examine how his frame had changed, he stood and allowed it, feeling only faint amusement towards her inspection.

"Yes. And no, I do not worry about such things. I have been careful." He answered her, while debating whether or not to snatch her hand up in his, to run metal claws along her knuckles, though that opportunity was taken away from him soon after, as her hand stole away instead to pull back her veil away from her face, revealing lips that he had not had the pleasure of enjoying since she had been gone.

With a smile of his own, he bent down, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, the metal claw of his thumb trailing down beneath her eye as he moved in nice and close, his face just an inch away from hers, his lips so very close.

"No." He grinned, letting his hand drop and taking a step away. "I think you should earn it." His grin widened, and in his free hand, his sword suddenly spun.

"Fight me."

eight

/innocent whistles

 

[Eight]

Na'ima simply shrugged. "I was prepared to stay for a long visit, so I stayed. I quite missed my sister, so I wanted to be alone with her before I had to share her with others again." She tilted her head, looking up at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Though despite the look there didn't actually appear to be any anger or irritation behind it. Wait.. "You counted the days?"

But of course he would ask. She traced a nail along each piece of his scorpion tattoo, her eyes following her hand at first before turning up to Wrath's again. "Falair is young and always curious about something. She simply asked me how I was, and I mentioned you." One brow arched. "What is it you wish I would say about you to others, Rathsvith?"

Her face uncovered, he could see her slight smile at his assurance that the braid was safe in...all of that. Good. And it was nice to see him putting an effort in his own well being again, not that she had been terribly concerned about it before, but if they were going to be doing...whatever it was they were doing, she refused to allow him to return to his self-destructive ways.

Her smile grew when he smiled and came closer, her hand lifting to rest along the underside of his jaw and gently stroke his cheek with her thumb as he came in closer. She shifted her weight onto her toes, supporting herself with her other hand against his chest as she leaned in toward him for the kiss she was expecting.

No?

Na'ima's jaw dropped slightly when he actually backed off her, her hands lowering from where they had been positioned before he left her.

...What.

Fight him. Was he serious? Ugh. He probably was. She frowned and stood straight, arms crossing. "I am not exactly built for fighting, Rathsvith. I have colony soldiers to do that for me." But he was serious, and she doubted there was any way she could talk him out of it. Na'ima sighed, dropping her arms to summon her weapon. A small sickle on the end of a long weighted chain.

"So if I fight you I get a kiss. What do you get?" Other than a bath, because fighting was likely going to make her sweat and she did not like sweating.

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He shrugged massive shoulders. "Not really."

He was a man of many, many words.

As she explained in further detail about her sister, Wrath nodded once. "Oh yes, I see now. The natural progression is to talk about somebody else when being asked after." He grinned then, and gave his head a shake. "You are allowed to say whatever you want about me, I was only curious myself." And curious still, but he would not let her lead him down this path. Not right now.

No. Instead he was going to see just how much he could get away with, though he was not without other motives as well. He genuinely did wish to see how Na'ima reacted to combat. Would she be like that woman in the other world? Strong, capable, and resourceful? Or would she balk, and refuse? He thought that perhaps it might be the latter, until she summoned her weapon, which he took as an open invitation to begin whenever he wished.

"You have soldiers to do that for you. I see. Getting a little above yourself, aren't you?" He teased. "I was not aware that us soldiers were so lowly compared to you."

Her question earned her a bark of laughter. "The thrill of battle singing in my veins? The satisfaction of seeing what you can do? To get to decide whether this courtship you demanded of me is worth my time?" He winked at her then, and swung his sword around and up into his grasp, as he took on a fighting stance.

"And besides, you do not just get one kiss, Na'ima. You will get as many as you like."

HP: 40
Damage: /chokes

eight

guess he doesn't actually want to hit her~

 

[Eight]

Na'ima scoffed. "You did not complain when you were below me a week ago, perhaps if you're good the soldier will be above me this time," she replied, taking hold of the weighted end of her chain in one hand and the handle of her sickle in the other. Did..did she just make a joke? She totally made a joke. And it wasn't an insulting one. Na'ima thought herself a comedian, apparently. The chain was given an idle spin, and she stood tall while he spoke.

Her smile returned. "I'm afraid my skills and talents are for off the battle field, but I will do my best not to leave you entirely disappointed, hm?" He prepared himself but didn't attack, and she arched a brow at the stance he took. Well, all right. "So you want someone you can trust, I assume someone who is physically attractive to you, and someone who can get your blood pumping, hm?"

The twirling chain stopped. "If I fight you, I am staying the night with you. I am not walking back down to my den after this."

After that she adjusted her grasp on the chain and her own stance, twirling the end with the sickle before throwing it in his direction, letting the chain slide through her hands until the sickle caught on some part of Wrath, where she then tightened her grip and tugged. "I hope you are not going easy on me."

HP: 40/40
Damage done: 4

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Wrath also had a moment of did she just make a joke?, his eyebrows arching in surprise, an amused smile on his lips, and a deep chuckle erupting from his chest. Not just any kind of joke, either, but a rather lewd one, in fact.

He was actually rather impressed.

"Not out loud, at least." He reached up with his free hand to stroke at his beard, his amusement leaking into his tone. "Your bony a** did dig into my thighs a little though, I must admit."

Pushing her buttons, seeing how she would react. Wrath apparently lived his life dangerously.

"You seem to be catching on." He replied, watching her more carefully now as it appeared she might make the first move. Her words, however, distracted him, and in that moment was when she struck.

He grunted as the sickle dug in to the back of his calf, and pulled, taking a step forward. "You presume to keep me company tonight, but what if I had already made plans with another?" He asked, sword twirling in his hand again, but making no move to strike back in retaliation just yet.

And then with a lunge forward, he stabbed the sword forward, so that it merely brushed past the veil on her face, leaving it fluttering against her skin.

"And why would I do that?" He asked, with a narrow eyed grin.

He definitely was not taking this too seriously just yet.

HP: 36
Damage: I am blaming the fact that I'm doing 5 RPs at once with 2d8s on all of my misses happening here. Yes. That is exactly what is happening.

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[Eight]

Na'ima huffed. "My apologies, I do not know if perhaps you have never noticed, but those of us of Famine are not built with unnecessary fat on our bodies. However, I do recall a stallion outside of our clan complimenting my breasts and my face. Does this make up for that?" She pulled her weapon back to her and seemed to drift off into thought, humming a bit. Yes, she remembered him now. A young colt, really. Wrath didn't need to know the details of that night. "We'll use a pillow next time if it is such a problem for you."

He took a step toward her and she took a step to the side, golden eyes drifting back to attention on Wrath. He was the trained warrior here, not her, but she was always a quick learner. She was not going to be taking her eyes off him anytime soon. She simply smirked at his question, waiting until after she had turned quickly to dodge his sword before she answered. "A good point, I had not considered it." She reached out to hook the chain of her weapon around the back of his neck, aiming to harmlessly pull him toward her. "If you have made plans with another for tonight..cancel them~." Pressing a kiss to the space between the claws of his scorpion tattoo, Na'ima then danced away from him. Her jewelry jingled together with her every movement, adding an almost musical accompaniment to her motions.

"Perhaps my size and form have you concerned that striking me too much will break me," she explained in answer to his question about going easy on her. "Have you been taking care of yourself outside of training, Rathsvith?"

HP: 40/40
Damage done: Nope

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"....Are breasts necessary fat?" He asked, though his gaze did lower to take in that particular sight, with open admiration, in fact. "If that is the case, than I suppose I am grateful for it."

He had to wonder if she was attempting to make him jealous, speaking of another stallion, but he shrugged it off, knowing if another one had indeed existed in her life at any time, that time had passed. "Unnecessary." He commented, as she pulled her weapon away.

She was quick, he would give her that, as she turned to the side away from his sword, and then deftly hooked her chain around him, pulling him closer, though he did nothing to balk or pull back, instead allowing the pull to happen.

"Ah, you are no fun. I could have had you both~" He teased, before she managed to kiss him and move away, again demonstrating just how fast on her feet she could be.

"Perhaps that is the case," He said, watching her as she moved away, a hand going up to stroke at his beard again, as he, again, made no move to strike at her. "Or perhaps I am just biding my time." He grinned, and then continued.

"If you are asking me if I have been to see Sal for some form of substance or another, than the answer is no, I have not."

HP: 36
Damage: /laughing so hard.

eight

 

[Eight]

Na'ima chuckled. "Most of it, then." She could recall a Famine or two with a waistline to speak of, strange as it may be. Her eyes followed his a moment, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, though her smile remained. This was fun, playing with him like this. She honestly had no reason to think of making him jealous, as that seemed to her like something you would do if you had had previous desires to fall back on if you didn't get something you wanted, or felt you weren't going to unless you played the jealousy card. However, Na'ima was generally good at getting what she wanted.

And right now Wrath was something she wanted.

She stood still after her little dance away from him, but kept her weapon ready. Truth was Na'ima was not a creature of strenuous activity, she could only be quick in spurts. "My apologies, Rathsvith, but you can ask anyone who knows me, I do not enjoy group work." Her brow raised, curious of his teasing. Was he serious? He would greedily enjoy two at once? Hm..

Na'ima scoffed at his words, forgetting her worries and giving her weapon a twirl. "So you are waiting for me to tire out. I may have to slow down then if it means you will not attack me until that happens." She grinned and then released her weapon in a swing toward him, just barely grazing him before she brought it back. She kept moving, however, pacing in a slow circle around him.

His answer was pleasing, if a little amusing. "Good. I have already informed him of your interest to cease your participation in his experiments. Though, it has been so long since we shared a subject, I had forgotten what he does when he is done with them. But worry not, dear Rathsvith, for it is I he has given the task of terminating you how I please." She chuckled. "I am enjoying your company far too much to kill you. Anyway, I meant that, yes. Among other things, such as eating, sleeping, the basics."

She tilted her head, humming thoughtfully. "There is something I have often wondered about you.." Na'ima pointed at his head with her sickle. "Death clansmen do not have horns. One of your parents was Conquest or Famine?" She asked with genuine interest. "I quite like them."

HP: 40/40
Damage done: 1 ::applauds Na'ima::

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"What about with Sal?" He questioned of her aversion to group work. "You did not seem opposed to sharing me with him." Or vice versa, as it were, since he had been Sal's little experiment first and foremost.

"Perhaps." He said again, with a grin, watching her, watching her weapon, turning to the side when she struck out at him again, the weapon grazing across the front of his chest, a light sting but nothing too serious.

An eyebrow rose, then. "Ah, I see. So whatever will you do with me, Na'ima?" He found it amusing that they actually thought to terminate him in some fashion, as if that could be easily done. Perhaps locked up somewhere to rot, but actual death? He smirked at the very idea of it.

"Eating, sleeping...when I must, yes." He admitted, giving his weapon another spin as he turned towards her once more.

Ah, a question he had not been asked before by either her or Sal, which was surprising in some ways, but in the end perhaps not so surprising at all, considering that he was simply a test subject for them and nothing more.

"My mother was of Famine." He grinned, "Perhaps that is why I have always found so much about you attractive."

His face finally turned a little more serious.

"I am going to strike you now." He warned, a moment before he dove forward, quicker on his feet then his size suggested he should be, his weapon slicing through the air neatly and towards her left side.

And then he stepped back. "I guess it could be worse. She had wings as well. I could not imagine having a pair of those sprouting from my a**. How bothersome that must be."

HP: 35
Damage: 4 /golf clapping intensifies

eight

 

[Eight]

"Salbei is my Mentor. I can trust him, and besides, I will not be sharing you with him any longer," she told him pleasantly, the corner of her smile quirking up in a little smirk. "Unless you would like to sleep with Salbei in your bed instead of me, then I suppose I could leave now and retrieve him for you." She wouldn't be. One, that was a walk. An unnecessary walk she would not be making. Two, no.

At his question she hummed and tilted her head to one side, looking him up and down with a slight nod of her head as if thinking to herself and going 'yes that will do'. "Where would be the fun in just telling you?" She parroted his own words to her. "I have no intention of terminating you, Rathsvith. You are much more fun and interesting to me alive."

Oh! That was wonderful! Her face lit up upon his answer, and she felt a bit of relief in it as well. He was not the product of Conquest, she had rather hoped he wasn't, he wasn't stuffy enough for them. No, he was perfection with his mixture of Death and Famine, surely. But then anyone with Famine in their veins was perfect. "Good. Your father had excellent taste, then." She pointed her sickle at him, giving it a slight shake. "I should hope you find me attractive, otherwise all of my efforts will be entirely useless. Is that what brought you so frequently to Famine? It would certainly explain a lot.." Na'ima watched him, her face still alight with excitement. Perhaps he truly would like her sand dunes, then. She could even make him dress properly for the travel there. Unconsciously her teeth pressed into her bottom lip around her smile and she very nearly giggled imagining it. Yes, she would need to find robes for a stallion of his stature. Salbei's likely wouldn't fit his frame despite their similar heights. Hm..

What? Oh. Right. They were fighting. Na'ima quickly calmed herself, clearing her throat and nodded as she raised her weapon ready to retaliate. He came at her, striking her side. Grunting, Na'ima turned on her heel in an attempt to get behind him and strike her blade against his shoulder, remaining cautious of his swinging braid. "I must admit to some envy," she confessed as she backed away. "As a filly I..often wished for horns or wings, sometimes I still do if I let my mind wander in that way." Her smile turned gentle as she recalled those memories, giving a little sigh as she moved to back away from him again, watching Wrath's every move. Na'ima wasn't used to sparring, she couldn't even remember the last time she had done it. It was certainly not after the destruction of the isles.

"Sometimes I would imagine myself with them, and how I would decorate them, and what kind of wings I would have." She chuckled. "It was a bit of an embarrassment the lengths I would go for these little fantasies of mine." Suddenly she grinned, laughing a bit and giving her sickle a harmless swing. "There was one time, I remember, I found a pair of old, old horns that had been buried in the sand. I took them home and tied them to my head with a scarf just to see what I would look like with a pair of my own. I wore them for an entire hour before my father caught me." Her swinging slowed, her grin softening and fading a bit as she recalled the memory. It was certainly an amusing one to her, a foolish little filly's dream, but it wasn't one she had thought of in quite a long time. Clearing her throat, Na'ima quickly forced herself to recover her composure, regarding Wrath with a curious look.

"What was she? A colony soldier? Or something non-combative?" He wouldn't tell her of his family last time. Perhaps he would be willing now?

HP: 36/40
Damage done: 3

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WOW I GOT FEELS FOR A SECOND THERE THANKS WRATH

 

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He laughed. He could only laugh, when she repeated back to him the very same words he had spoken before. When that laughter cut off, he pointed his blade at her, "Except that I believe you have already made your intentions with me clear, unless, of course, you were lying." He grinned, his eyes shining merrily. He was enjoying himself, enjoying this, watching her, how she moved, how she reacted, both physically and with their exchange of banter. It was...refreshing, in many ways. Not many priestesses would have humoured him like this, and a great many of the female soldiers would have been more interested in proving their strength by drilling him into the ground rather then to keep it light, as he and Na'ima seemed to be doing.

He actually found himself reveling in the way her face lit up when he admitted his mixed lineage. "I suppose he did, though I did not know her well, as she had her obligations to Famine and spent most of her time there. I always thought my mother to be a fascinating woman." He let out a thoughtful hum as she continued, and nodded his head. "Something about it was familiar, and almost comforting, though perhaps I had only just hoped that she might have survived...." He let his voice trail off again at that, frowning, before he had gone on his first real attack against Na'ima, as if to prove that he actually could.

Her counter was met with his flesh as he spun as well, taking her hit to the back of his shoulder as he turned.

He held his blade up as if to attack, and then paused instead, something about her next words striking a chord deep inside of him, something about the wistful look on her face stopping his hand, and he let it drop slightly, as he watched her in silence for a moment.

"Na'ima." He said her name softly, or at least, as softly as his booming voice could manage. "You do not need horns or wings or anything extra added on. You are a perfect display of beauty just as you are....bony a** and all." He grinned again, unable to keep things too serious between them, especially given that they only really seemed to be starting to get to know one another, no longer as an experimenter and a test subject, but as two horsemen, as individuals with stories each their own, with unique thoughts, with actual feelings.

With her final question, his grin slipped into an easy smile. "She was a colony soldier. So you see, I am a warrior on both sides...which would be more apparent if I could actually concentrate long enough to show you."

HP: 32
Damage: good grief I can't even

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[Eight]

Na'ima simply smiled at Wrath's laughter. That was a nice sound. "Ah, but I have not told you what I plan on doing with you, and that is what you asked. Knowing my intentions does not mean you know what I will do." However when accused of lying she tsked and shook her head, pointing her sickle at him with a sound of disapproval. "Had I lied to you, I would not have climbed all the way up here and then agreed to a fight with you, Rathsvith." Far, far too much effort wasted when she had better things to do. But this was turning out to be more enjoyable than she had complained initially about, it had been quite some time since she did anything like this. But she had to slow down or this would all end too quickly, though that didn't mean she would stop all together. Perhaps they could do this again, she wasn't hating fighting him, it certainly did get adrenaline into her system.

"I am sure she was wonderful," she chuckled. Wrath's next words were what had her slowing down next. "I understand." Her voice was gentle for once, as she had felt the exact same way he was describing. It had gotten especially worse when Falair had returned, it made her hold out hope for their mother and father, but so far nothing. A small part of her continued to hope, but she was beginning to accept that they were never coming back. Nothing she did could ever bring them back, she needed to keep moving forward.

The way he said her name made her falter. He had never said it like that before. She hadn't been expecting it. Nor had he been expecting what he said next. No, no..she knew she was perfection. These had just been...silly filly thoughts..he didn't need to..but his voice certainly made her heart skip a beat. Na'ima actually laughed when she said she had a bony a** again, a hand coming up to rest over her heart. He made her feel foolish! This was ridiculous. "If it bothers you so much, perhaps you do not wish to have my 'bony a**' on your lap," she said with her laughter, and she was still chuckling as she calmed herself done. "Though I cannot help but wonder if you constantly bringing it up means you love it so much you cannot get it off your mind, hm?"

Her being a colony soldier certainly made sense. They had a certain amount of elegance to them, she supposed. He made fun of himself, however, and she grinned. Na'ima approached him, catching his wrist with the blade of her sickle and bringing it to her. A kiss was pressed to the palm of his large hand, a playful little smile on her lips. "Am I distracting you from performing at your best, Rathsvith? I apologize~" she crooned with amusement, pulling away and backing off with a chuckle. "Come, Rathsvith. Strike at me," she taunted, swinging her sickle by its chain.

"And for the record, I find your physique to be perfection as well," she added while backing away. Might as well. It was only fair if he was going to say such things to her.


HP: 36/40
Damage done: 1 I mean her damage is completely as expected, low and awful. What's your deal, Wrath.

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