My fingers find her eyes and they dig in. Her grip relinquishes, her screams of lung-emptying pain signalling the return of air to mine. I desperately throw her off, forcing my way back up with an endless cough. Blood and thick, mucus-rich spit come out in equal measure. Some of it lands on her for good measure.
She snarls my way, her hand reaching out for her blade, and I copy her. Fingers wrap around handles and steel roars out, the opera of battle returning. There's no finesse to it, however. It's savagery befitting of Waionr's past self, Savage War. Brutal War.
Unbecoming of Valkinvar.
But we care not, we keep going for each other. I only notice too late that our surrounding sisters are parting. Their abstinence is ironic. Soldiers not fighting, much less when a fight of this scale is happening.
Yet, they are doing as soldiers must. Follow their orders. Only the temple guard may draw their weapons against another Valkinvar. Only they may fight as we are. And they're coming for us with no bias, no favourites.
An armoured fist strikes my jaw open and wide, just like it does my opponent's. She gets a fist to her armoured gut, just as powerful as the one to my bare stomach. It's not fair, but neither has this entire fight. It's quite simply put, the truth of war. The truth of the Valkinvar.
Blatant thuggery is not allowed. It does not matter if you are defending yourself or if you are the aggressor. While one will be punished more than the latter... Such terms are not granted to those who draw their blades on another Valkinvar.
The temple guards continue to thrash away at us, beating us into crawled up submission. I keep my magic close and my guard up. Anything to dull the blows. Anything to keep my life as it is.
Sabatons keep flashing about me, gauntlets the same. The feet of the crowd vanish, replacing itself with more and more temple guard. Some gather around me and my opponent, others go for what gear is over the barracks. A thank you is certainly appropriate, if a little awkward due to my current beating.
The last blow knocks my head against the ground, filling it with sense as much as it does pain. All the orders and barking becomes clear and we both find ourselves hoisted up. Armoured arms clench around us. Due to my state, they skip a step with me, whereas I at least get to delight in my opponent's stripping.
Not to my level, but enough to deny her easy weapons beyond her fists and training. I snort at her and she thrashes away, easily finding herself restrained by her guards. One rears their arm back, throwing it up and around into her gut. The sound of denting steel rings out and the plate crashes down with a single tear.
I blink with bruised silence as I eye the fist shaped mark in the battle plate. Armour meant to withstand swords, guns, and more. Spells and all that the arcane can muster. And this here temple guard, with a name I have no chance of ever knowing, has dented it with a punch.
Actually, were they pulling their punches with me...?
"GET THESE TWO DOWN TO THE DUNGEONS! GATHER THE SPECTATORS FOR QUESTIONING! I WANT A RUNDOWN OF WHAT HAS HAPPENED AND WHY!" the temple guard leader roars viciously as she tries to burn us alive with that contemptuous stare. I meet her eyes, keeping my view on them even as my body reacts to all the pain.
It's hard not to notice it, really. The throbbing across my face, the strange swelling that's making it hard to do certain actions. All things one should see little of in battle, generally. But, in here, in this brawl, stripped naked by my own despair... I forsook it. Every blow I took was me alone taking it.
I really am an idiot...
I should have never let the truth out. I should have lied. Yet, how could I have ever known one of Sister Ogawa's close friends was still alive? It was years ago since she herself died. Anyone likely close to her should've been serving on the same or similar front...?
It doesn't matter, I suppose. This is my life right now. The secret is out and now I have to manage the crisis in my life. It's certainly easy to wish I stayed at Thrurstradtur-Suhurlodst. But, at the same time, whatever is happening in the south did happen in their lands. I suppose I just traded one catastrophe for another.
Whatever. I'll have plenty of time to think about it in the dungeons. At least this time, I know I'm going there for an actual reason. The rules about violence on temple grounds have always been strictly training or defending the city from siege and battle. Nothing else is acceptable. An honour duel might be requested, but not a petty brawl like that...
Guess I have something to be curious about, though. I'll get to see how Sister Styadesx will react to me going into her cells again. Assuming I end up her way, anyway. I'll have plenty of time to learn and discover a few things about the Valkinvar I really should never be learning.
"Refreshing..." I can't help but whisper between awkward flexes of the jaw as the warmth of my blood tickles and itches my body hairs. An already awkward life in the Valkinvar is now most certainly ruined. Yet, I feel... Free. Excited and happy.
I am free of the burden of hiding my shame, ominous as it is to have it be public knowledge. But I am free. That is all that matters. I'm no longer hiding it, no longer worrying about it. It's just... Out there, for all to lie and talk about as they please.
I suppose, in a way, as well, I'm glad I fought how I did. It's hard to say if I've grown in power or if my opponent, despite her unbridled fury, was holding back. But, but it doesn't matter. I survived the fight, and I held my own.
Sister Vapooliar, the slowest initiate to ever become a Valkinvar-Imdvarce. She held her own against a senior veteran of however many grand-cycles. However, many years. She held her ground... *I* held my ground, and I fought her to... A standstill. Yeah, the temple guard just got involved before my victory!
I huff a quick smirk, letting it fade away as quickly as it came so my thoughts can respect the severity of the situation.