[Demda]

1st of Cryxatum, In the Season of Spring,
Era XIII Post Fractum, Era I of the Celestine Mandate
Morning

OOC: Private.

Demda awoke in a large bed, in one of the richer rooms of the mansion where the female Scavengers were largely based. Truth be told, she would’ve preferred more humble quarters. But it wasn’t as if she received the opportunity to sleep in comfort very often, so Demda took full advantage when she could.

Dressing was a simple matter of pulling them on once she was up and out of the bed. Some other Scavenger had taken it upon themselves to wash her leathers during the night. As well, she’d taken a bath on that same night, so she wouldn’t feel rushed in the morning. They were the same leathers that she’d met Amanda in. Pretty much the only decent clothes that Demda had in her possession. She could’ve borrowed something from her comrades, but mostly what they had for females was dresses and so forth. And for some reason, the thought of so much as touching one of those things sent pangs of terror through the half-elf.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t entirely excited about the prospect of meeting her trainer, as she should have been. The woman who’d agreed to train her was unpleasantly temperamental, bitter, paranoid, and cynical. Similar in those respects to Demda, although the girl’s own cynicism and bad temper didn’t extend to those who’d shared in her history as a slave. While it was good to know that the woman wasn’t trusting of just anyway, and thus not a fool, it still hackled on her nerves that she’d been snubbed on her first meeting. She’d be sure to return that favor. Today and the next few cycles or so would be about learning, not making friends.

Within moments, her socks and boots were on, and she was ready to go. Her walk took her through the bulk of Westgate, to a secluded little hovel with a conifer tree out front. Demda straightened herself out as she came to stand at the door, wiping whatever vestiges of friendliness might’ve lingered on her features. If Amanda wanted to call her a liar and a fraud, Demda would show her what a hellbitch she could really be. And she’d start by snubbing the woman right back.

Eventually came the sounds of movement from within, and Amanda opened the door. She was dressed in trousers today, rather than the sort of humble skirt she’d worn on their first meeting. She greeted Demda with an air of stoicism, although the kindness was still there. And that’s what really killed Demda, ”Shall we begin? Or could you do with breakfast?”

”Let’s just begin.” Demda said. She hadn’t eaten, but had gone longer than a single morning without food. She found the hunger gave her an edge anyway, something she intended to exploit to the fullest against Amanda.

Amanda nodded, not allowing whatever hurt was brewing beneath the surface to come to light. Not that Demda presumed that she actually had any feeling.

They walked out into an open area behind the house, where there was plenty of room to facilitate the acrobatic and space consuming style of Gicha Hehan. Demda almost immediately took up the dance, swinging from side to side, one foot in back of it’s sister, back again, and then with the other. Amanda merely seemed to study the half-elf for a moment. Then she took up a dance of her own. The woman’s own form was remarkably different from Demda’s own. It seemed more relaxed, less dramatic, with each foot taking a small. step behind the other as she swayed, and her arms simply swaying from side to side, bound at the wrist by invisible chains.

In the moments to follow, it became apparent that the woman was waiting on Demda to make the first move. So much the better, as Demda had never been strong on defense. She examined the entirety of the woman’s stance, trying to gauge her defenses so as to formulate the best attack.

No matter how she thought to approach the situation, it seemed awkward. Nevertheless, Demda cleared her mind of all doubt, and just went for it. Just as she was swaying to the right, she brought her left foot back and forward again, stepping into the launching of a simple kick with the balls of her right foot. It was a feint. She’d used a similar technique before, had had reasonable success. The followup, a knee to the groin, belly, or ribs was the real attack, powered by the momentum garnered by her kicking step. Amanda swerved to the side just as her knee was coming up. The woman’s ankle moved to graze Demda’s own grounded leg, at which the half-elf immediately responded by flipping into a cartwheel, stopping in a handstand and then launching a barrage of kicks. None of them landed, as the woman spun to the side, simultaneously extending her leg so as to graze Demda’s arm with it.

Why she wasn’t full out attacking Demda couldn’t understand.

Frustrated by her lack of success, but never one to turn down quarter when it’s so freely given, Demda brought her feet to the ground, and stood herself up, taking up her dance once more as she weaved into and out of Amanda’s range of attack. Amanda’s swaying slowed, and eventually came to a stop. Demda reluctantly followed, but not until quite a few seconds after Amanda’s dance was concluded.

”Your reactions are well enough, but you have a long way to go before you’re ready for your third petal.” Amanda said, her voice betraying nothing, while her eyes shone with something akin to excitement. Demda had awoken something in the woman, of that she was sure. Maybe there was hope for her after all.