A Case of Crabs [PM for invite]

[Vrag]

They say that murderers like to return to the scene of the crime, often for the twisted enjoyment that revisiting the destruction they've caused brings them. Whoever 'they' is, apparently they are correct, or at least correct in the case of one armored Knight.

Blue eyes surveyed the changed landscape, so much different from the last time she was here. Gone were the efforts of the Republic, eradicated and annihilated by the Vong legions that had settled the planet as soon as the Sith conquered it again. Selvaris was transformed completely, the organic structures erected for the glory of Yun'Yuuzhan crawling across its surface like horrors from another galaxy.

She snorted at the thought, shaking her head at herself. There was a bone-deep exhaustion in her, a tiredness that she couldn't quite place. Physically, the woman was fine — she was never less than fine for very long, courtesy of her innate abilities — but this fatigue had nothing to do with bodily ailments. It was borne of the things she'd experienced, of the deeds she'd committed during the Rapture, the blood of hundreds, if not thousands, coloring her silver skin.

The woman raised her right hand to eye level, scrutinizing the worn plates of her trusty armor with a keen gaze. There were small nicks all across the seemingly smooth surface, nigh imperceptible dents in the black durasteel that became visible only when light fell just at the right angle.

It irked her.

Vrag liked it when things were in order — though her definition of order differed heavily from those most common throughout the Galaxy — and her favored choice of battle garment was coming dangerously close to crossing that line. Despite the high level of maintenance and care she put into keeping the suit in shape, the warrior could recognize when it was time to phase out the old and replace it with the new. It would always hold a special place in her twisted, obdurate heart, but it was time to move on.

Well, almost. [member="Reverance"] had yet to arrive, after all.

 

[Reverance]

Selvaris. In it's current state, there were few places Gabriel would rather be. Like watching the machination of mighty ants building might things, he could rest upon the hill always watching, everything coming together. But for today, he had something else in mind, and it was tethered rigidly to what hid beneath that black and matted armor, filled with dings and dents of battles long gone. As he strode across the open field, ridge top, or other descriptive land formation, he broached the silence between the two warriors with the spray of juice. His right thumb dug deep into the fruit of an orange, as he proceeded to peel the vestibule of his current focus.

"I have something for you, Vrag..." Time was passing, his fondness for the woman was considerably more than where they had first started. Perhaps it was from their sharing in the carnage, or the future proposition of sharing in the spoil of that carnage. Either way, his eye drifted lazily down the dings and chasm in the armor, metal worn thin from the smash against kinetic damage or the abutting metal pieces against one another. He continued to unwrap the fruit as his focus drifted out towards the biomechanical facility before them. With a waving gesture of his armor, current war-torn armor in place, he would ask that she followed. "I hope you don't mind..." He said quietly, as he placed a quadrant of the fruit between his lips. The juice, flowing freely from transparent skin, popped like pop rocks in his mouth.

"But I took it upon myself to estimate your dimensions..." He had a knack for that sort of thing, a special sort of memory that he could upon old occurrences, to decipher the apparent mysteries of her form hidden beneath plates of metal. As they walked, they would near a tower not unlike what he showed Matsu. But this one was removed, staged for weapon and armor development. And as they entered, they would find themselves in a place slightly resembling that of a typical tiled locker room. It was an odd juxtaposition, jarring in it's own way.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

"You... estimated my dimensions?" she parroted with a chuckle, eyebrows climbing her forehead as she smothered a full-on laugh. With a shake of her head, the woman fell in step with the Sith Lord, her hand darting out in a blur as she pilfered the other half of the succulent fruit from his fingers. Having learned from her previous mistakes on an unnamed planet with an unnamed monastery, the firrerreo retracted her visor before stuffing the orange in her mouth before [member="Reverance"] could attempt to take it back, grinning at the man all the while.

She chewed on it without a shred of shame as she wiped a trickle of juice on her chin, blue eyes leaving the Lord of Pain to look at the structure they were approaching. Well, the term 'structure' is used very loosely here, seeing as the Vong only use organisms and their direct derivatives to build, shape and innovate. The mentality was alien to her, of course, but she could respect it nonetheless — would she be here if she didn't? — and even if her stance on the species were different, any self-respecting warrior would have to admit they were a force to reckon with, technology or no.

Vrag was a practical woman at her core, however, and extremist views were as far from pragmatism as one could go. Flexibility and adaptation were the two things that had saved her skin more than anything else, and she could recognize the advantages of certain approaches — or gear — without being influenced by silly prejudice or personal views. She pitied those who were headstrong in their convictions, really, for it was no way to go through life. If anything, it was a state of mind that almost always ended with a premature death, or in milder cases a tragic event that usually shook that person out of their stupidity.

If only, the woman thought to herself as they crossed into the humid darkness of the organic formation, her eyes taking a few moments to adjust. With careful steps the Sith ventured further into the green twilight, taking in whatever details she could as more and more became discernible in the half-light of the place.

"Rev?" she asked slowly, glancing at the man across her shoulder. "Is this what I think it is?" Instead of being offended, the woman was amused at the implication of his presence, turning around to face him as her lips were pulled into a toothy grin.

Without saying anything, the Knight set to shedding her armor with practiced motions, unclipping straps and clamps that held the overlapping plates in place. First came the pauldrons, giving her a wider range of movement as she worked to get the rest of the suit off. For more than three years, the process had been a daily ritual for the woman, so ingrained into her being that she didn't even have to think as the metal came off piece by piece, clattering softly against the grown bench in the middle of the room.

 

[Reverance]

Woman was always stealing stuff...

He paused as she began to remove her armor with glee, not a ounce of shame to be found. There was a reason he knew he liked her and those reasons continued to stack, threatening to topple over like a tower of dominoes. While he was wholly committed to Matsu, his persona towards her resembling the closest thing that could ever manifest within him as love, he appreciated a strong and athletic build. And Vrag was obviously built, muscle upon muscle, and a height that put her just an inch of so above him. He would know, he extrapolated it with the shapers. But even more so, the two were kindred spirits in their lust for brutality and desire to crack skulls with knuckles and fists.

As he pulled the armorweave cloak away, his fingers crested across the buckles on his chest to unhinge the Lotek'k straps of the war-torn armor. One arm at a time, with a bit of a lean, he pulled the plates off and slid them on the bench in front of him. Off came the greaves, and then the boots, and then the pants. And before he knew it, there was nothing to hide between them. Body riddled with scares, self-inflicted and incurred through battle, and tattoos that extended from his calves to his torso, hands, and neck, Gabriel was a sturesque figure of muscle and stone taken to sentience. With one seemingly eternal glance towards Vrag, his stare long and piercing, he smirked and turned, to open a locker. "You'll find an armorweave body suit in your locker...you'll need that before I help with you the armor itself." He knew his armor fit, but taking it for a run seemed like a good deal of fun. Nevertheless, he recalled how she reacted when he assisted her with a gauntlet. While he took joy in her embarrassment, it seemed to evade her today.

One foot after the other, he slid the dual layered suit on, that had been hermetically sealed to prevent depressurizing. They likely wouldn't utilize that function for today, but it was good to know it was there. As he turned back towards Vrag, he would take in the sight of her for a moment, as he tongued the side of his cheek and sat down, facing away from her. "I wanted to thank you for all your work Vrag. I know it's not the Sith way to go about things, and blood is really it's own form of payment..." He lifted what was left of his portion of the fruit. "You've been invaluable to the One Sith cause...had I ten thousand more like you, the universe would have been broken and reborn a long time ago." A moment of introspection, perhaps, but honesty was something he was equipped, often to a brutal level. If Vrag was doing anything that displeased him, he would let her know. But for now, she was everything a Sith Lord could need in an ally. Ally, that word rolled around in his head, a feeling of coldness attached to it, far removed from the connotation he imbued it with. They were more than allies, a sort of murky jocularity that seemed to develop with ease.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Had she been less familiar with the armor, removing it would've easily taken half an hour, but the black, cold plating was like a second skin to the woman; a sleeve she could slip off or on within a matter of minutes. After the metal came the padding, and then finally the underwear. What, you thought mass murderers were possessed of shame? How cute.

Blue eyes found the crimson stare of her counterpart, and the Knight flashed him a lopsided grin, dragging her gaze along the contours of his naked body. There was certainly much to appreciate there, the rough skin reading like a canvas of his life; from the early, wide brushstrokes of the tattoos to the freshest, reddest of scars, his whole story was there to see. In a sense, the moment was charged with far more than the raw sexuality of predators, an odd sort of intimacy that didn't feel stifling or demanding; it simply was, and Vrag found that she didn't mind at all.

With a parting wink, the woman turned to walk over to the indicated locker, pulling out the body suit in one swift motion. She inspected the armorweave against the dim light for a few seconds before doing much the same as [member="Reverance"], sighing as the cool garment wrapped around her body ever so snugly. Estimated dimensions indeed.

She ran her fingers absently through the red and black mess of her hair as she strolled towards the Sith Lord, enjoying the pronounced height difference as she looked down on him. Usually, the disparity was imperceptible, especially in armor, but now that he'd sat down, Vrag had been afforded quite the… interesting vantage point. Her sharp teeth dragged on her lower lip as she smirked at him, stopping well in his personal space.

"I guess we'll just have to take it slow, then," she said in response, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Though they were usually the temperature of ice, her gaze was tempered by the warm feeling of pride and accomplishment coursing through her body at his words. Not that her face would reflect any of this, mind you; she was far too wary for that. "I'm a patient woman, Rev."

Whatever visions the firrerreo entertained of her future, they certainly weren't grandiose or megalomaniac; she was surprisingly level-headed that way. Since joining the One Sith, she'd seen many such individuals, their head filled to the brim with delusions of grandeur and ambition that would eat them alive. So far, Vrag had managed to avoid that particular pitfall of power, and though she could acknowledge that it would become harder the higher she climbed in rank, she still had enough wits about her to stop herself before it was too late. That, or somebody else would stop her.

Her gaze found his sole red eye again, and she offered him a small, genuine smile. A rare thing in and of itself, and the only form of thanks she knew how to give that wasn't fabricated and false. Before things could get any weirder and mushier and generally wade into a territory she was less than comfortable with, Vrag took a step back again, retreating both physically and mentally. There's only so much of soul-to-soul that broken toys can handle, after all.

"I was told there would be more than just armorweave," she teased easily, any trace of her previously open expression gone. Humor, as always, used as a coping mechanism, a momentary crutch to lean on before she regained her bearings completely.

 

[Reverance]

"It's far easier to build then create...but with that ease, resistance forces a certain commitment of time..." He scratched the tied knot of his hair as he smiled at her last comment, jutting out his chin that was currently garnished with a growth of salt and pepper. "And here I thought this would be a surprise." Standing up, he eyed her with that crimson glow, recalling the memory and transplanting the armor upon her person. Tilting his head, he felt his mind trail down her for a moment before nodding shallowly. "They got the armorweave right...Alset was good on that end. Lets see how the shapers did with their charge."

He continued to eye her as he walked away, as if assessing the goods. While he may have given the impression that he was undressing her with the eye, a feat not really needed as not much mystery was left with the way armorweave suit hugged her athletic build, the truth was that he was continually estimating. The armor took a good deal of time to grow, if it wasn't shaped properly they would have to start all over again. As he rounded the corner, leaving her to whatever thoughts rolled around behind those blue eyes, she would hear the rattle of wheels against tile. Coming slowly around the corner, a blanket covered a large metal cart that clacked against itself. As it stopped, he circled the cart and depressed the stopper hinges on the wheel. Pulling the blanket off, he called the warrior woman over with the sporadic gesture of an index finger. "Sit..." He said quietly, not so much as a command as a request to make things easier, as he pointed to the center bench.

"Vonduun skerr kyrric, commonly known as vonduun crab armor..." He inspected the armor, placing a finger on the living and breathing specimen. "We grew these out in the vongformed bogs, specifically attuned to both mine and your measurements..." With a tilt of the head once more, he inspected her again. "And I think we've done an excellent job. I'll want to help you with it this first time around, to make sure there is no pinching or that the crab is agreeable. Last thing we need is it spiking you in the middle of a fight.." He placed his full hand against the vonduun that was her torso piece, looking for a way to put her at ease. He sighed and smiled. "Reverance wasn't the name I was born with...my father called me Gabriel for his entire life." He looked towards her, hoping that would coax some confession of her name out. He had plans for the name of the vonduun, but would hardly find comfort in calling it a Vonduun Skerr Vrag...ugh, that wont do.

"Now, I'm not really taking a no for an answer when it comes to this arming donning. If you don't like it, suck it up." He said with a smile, entirely sincere about the fact that she was going to sit there and deal with him playing squire.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

She followed him gingerly, wondering what the Sith Lord might have in store for her next. She'd learned enough about the man to know that he was fond of honesty, in his own way, but she wouldn't put him beyond a prank either; there was a certain familiarity between them now, and having murdered together did away with most boundaries that burdened normal relationships. Ugh, how did that word sneak in?

With a small shudder, the Knight quickened her pace and turned the corner, stopping in her tracks with a quirked eyebrow as she saw the cart. "What." she blurted just as [member="Reverance"] spoke as well, pulling back the blanket to reveal… an empty metal slate. Confusion levels were about to rise even higher when the man started speaking again, appeasing Vrag somewhat.

What came next, however, was completely out of the left field. She had only her gambling years to thank for that she didn't take a step back or pull a particularly odd face. Those had a tendency weird people out, or so she was told.

Gabriel. The thought alone made her want to laugh, but she couldn't see that going over very well. Still. Gabriel? The corners of her mouth twitched, and she sank her teeth deeper into her bottom lip. The name was so… quotidian, so run-of-the-mill, that Vrag had a hard time reconciling it with the image of the Wrath. The taut, scar-ridden body hidden under that bodysuit didn't speak of a Gabriel, it spoke of Reverance, a man who crushed planets with the force of his ire.

Well, and a few Vong, usually.

The woman chuckled, finally, and caught his one-eyed gaze, wondering for a brief moment how it was like to look on the world and knowing you see only half.

"Ygdris," she said before conscious thought could stop her, prompted perhaps by the simple knowledge that a moniker would never make a whole. Before he could make a smart remark in response, the firrerreo slipped past him and sat down on the cool alloy, tensing up for but a moment before she forced herself to relax. Force knew that those crabs didn't exactly look friendly, and she'd fought alongside the warriors of Yun'Yuuzhan often enough to know what they could do to flesh and bone.

"Don't enjoy yourself too much," she said grudgingly, but the emotion didn't reach her eyes, and with an exaggerated sigh the woman uncrossed her arms to allow him better access. She knew better than anyone how dexterous the hands of a killer could be, and despite her personal holdups, Reverance was perhaps one of the few individuals in the Galaxy that she would allow to help her in putting on her armor.

"Gabriel." A quick flash of a smile, and then the woman presented her back to him, ready to feel the weight of a live being adorning her body.

 

[Reverance]

"Sionoma...Gabriel Sionoma. Tell anyone and I'll hurt you." He smiled as he looked down at her, his arms lifting the shell up. "Lift your arms up, guide them through the holes...you know how this works." The torso was a solid bit of chitin plate, the pauldrons and sleeves connected via ligaments and muscle striations as the exoskeleton worked its way around her form. As her hands slid through, armorweave gloves with durasteel hardened knuckles, protruded as he knelt down in front of her, resting on his knees. He slid his hand in between the armor and her waist, placing his fingers against the armorweave with knuckles against her. He felt the the inhale and exhale of the vonduun, the shift of it's diaphragm as he lifted his gaze to focus on Vrag. And he felt her abs, like rock beneath flesh, and smiled.

"I need you to listen to me...don't focus on how uncomfortable you are right now." He tilted his head, knowing her perception of proximity and the anxiety it might cause. But they were well beyond that now. "The crab armor is living, breathing. You can feel it now, the fit is perfect. Here..." He placed his hands on the armor, just at the top row of where he ribs were, his finger protruding in. "Is the crabs gill. If that gets hit, the armor will die and we'll have to do this process all over again. This armor has been treated with a special worm...the Bafforka Bore Worm. That means it isn't sensitive to bafforr pollen but..." He paused as he pulled the next piece, her right leg, and began manhandling her appendage. Really, it hanged from the torso by additional exoskeleton and ligaments at the waist, but it required coaxing around the thigh and calf. "It's still allergic to sparkbee honey. The republic hasn't caught on to this but once it does, you'll need to be careful. If it hits the suit, the suit will do one of two things." He watched Vrag's facial reaction as he felt the tightness of the vonduun calf skin as it overlapped the thigh and connected along the back of her leg. He was waiting to get punch, hoping to dodge it or at least roll his jaw. "It will either seize up altogether or it will asphyxiate. If it does the latter, it will suffocate you. So...be cognizant of that."

He moved on to the next leg, working it just as he had the other, not really caring about her comfort levels. In earnest, he was enjoying himself. A sort of pleasure taken in breaking her barriers. This must be what it feels like for Matsu to chip away at his mental protections. "The armor is resistant to most aspects of the force, except lightning. A healthy dose will kill the Vonduun Skerr Ygdris..." he smiled as he revealed it's true name, not pausing as he continued. "So use your training and remain vigilant to avoid that." Securing the last bit, helping to coax it over the knee and along the back of the knee, he placed his finger between her suit and the exoskeleton. "The ligaments will naturally give to allow you flexibility, but we want to make sure it's not too tight...and, well...I think it's perfect." He stepped away, putting some space between him and her. He hadn't told her the best part, the augmentation to the strength. She would likely punch a hole through him right now if she tried, but he wasn't intent on giving her the chance. "Well, stand up, give it a go." Pride swelled, he hadn't actually seen it upon anyone but himself. And from what he could tell, it looked much better on her than him.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The promise of pain elicited little more than a small, uneasy smile from the woman, a familiar, reliable constant in the world of mortals. Until the day she died, Vrag could rest assured that it would never leave her, a companion in one form or another up to the very moment she drew her last breath. Death, in her chosen profession — butchers were well respected around here, and she could certainly appreciate that — was nothing unexpected, and she couldn't think of a day that didn't go by without the thought of it crossing her mind. She didn't imagine her end in any particular way, though she expected that she would die in battle.

It was a train of thought she clung to with an almost comical desperation as [member="Reverance"] went to work, her blue eyes finding a spot on a far wall to fixate on. She did her best to focus on his words, trying to ignore what he was doing with his hands. It created a strange sort of disparity, and her natural inclination to keep track of her surroundings at all times kept sabotaging her efforts. How inconvenient.

Her chest rose with shallow breaths as she complied with his oddly calm instructions, allowing him to put on the breastplate first. The weight of the crab settled on her body, and for a moment her discomfort was overshadowed by fascination as she let herself feel what the organism was doing. Theoretically she'd always known that the armor of Yuuzhan Vong was alive, but the implications of that condition only truly made themselves known as they wrapped around her form.

For a fraction of a second, Vrag could feel the hammering of her heart in her throat as the creature settled against her ribs, abdomen and shoulders, struggling to synchronize its pace with that of the Vonduun. She nodded absently as Reverance — Gabriel? — pointed out the weak spots of the armor, storing the information away for a time where she had the presence of mind to analyze it. In that moment, her breathing was almost amusingly shallow — and to think she could torture a man without batting an eye — her fingers curled into tight fists as she did her best not to react.

The Sith Lord was no stranger to pain either, that much was obvious from the scars decorating his skin alone. Even if she hadn't seen him in all his naked glory, Vrag knew that the man could probably swallow even more than she did; a question worth asking, once she remembered how to form words that weren't curses again.

Her nostrils flared as he went to work on her legs, his motions efficient in a way she could appreciate, in an objective, non-involved way. Since those were her calves and thighs he was placing crabs upon, Vrag certainly felt too involved to do anything but bite at her lower lip until the warm copper filled her mouth. The taste was calming in its own way, and suddenly the prospect of not hitting Reverance was much easier to envision. Curious.

Then, blessedly, it was done, and the woman slipped off the table faster than you could blink. Her feet touched the ground with an odd lightness that had nothing to do with the fifteen kilos of armor now adorning — no, living — on her body, flexing her joints to test the give of the Vonduun. An almost giddy expression crossed her face when the creature didn't protest, but rather moved with her, a feeling completely alien to the Knight who had worn nothing but dead metal until that day.

Her blue eyes found Gabriel then, and her lips pulled back to reveal a wolfish grin. She was back in her element now, and without a moment's hesitation the firrerreo moved to slam him against the organic wall behind his back.

"Touch me like that without permission again," she would breathe into his ear, "and I won't be the one feeling uncomfortable."

 

[Reverance]

Maybe the grin should have been enough, but he was too distracted by the finesse of the armor and how it fit on her form. As he felt her push against him, the blast of power struck him like a hammer to his core as he slid back against the tile and smacked into the organic wall behind him. Letting out a gasp, he dropped to one knee, as his left arm felt shaky for some reason. He hadn't had the opportunity to don his own armor so he was entirely incapable of defending against the power augmentation of her suit. He let out a cough as his hand drifted to his ribs, feeling the fracture of multiple bones. At least three were broken, maybe four. From just the touch of the armor. But damnit if it didn't look good...

"I forgot to mention..." He winced as he placed a hand gingerly on the spot, the tenderness mixing to provide a state of pain and pleasure. His eye rolled back before he propped himself back against the dented wall, now bleeding from his impact. A piece of the dented wall pierced the suit, cutting into flesh upon back. "The Vonduun Skerr Ygdris is built from a specific genetic line." He laughed as he coughed, sighing as he felt the pain of trying to breath. His hand drifted to his throat and feeling no presence of tracheal deviation or difficulty breathing, just pain in the movement of the chest, he assessed the situation as being one of mostly superficial wounds. Easily fixed, though the pooling of blood near his toes in the body suit was disconcerting as the warmness and wetness brought a bit of discomfort. "You'll see improved strength in and out of the field. Lifting nearly double your own weight, as well as being entirely capable of punching through walls, it should be a boon to you in combat." He laughed as he coughed and knelt over, the position offering just a hint of more pain. Before long, he wasn't kneeling so much as on his knees.

"You said don't enjoy myself too much..." He smiled, the smallest hint of blood at the corner of his mouth. To think, such a capable figure brought to his knees by the power of the armor. "I didn't." He laughed again. "Sorry...I'll make sure to ask permission before I grope you again." The fact of the matter was that he needed to ensure that the suit didn't suffocate her, acceptance of a non vong species was a curious things, the likes of which were dealt with seamlessly by the shapers. After he was patched up, maybe he would take the time to thank them. For now, he felt a slight wooziness as he sat back on his butt and exhaled, a sigh of relief with the improved ability to breath. His hand maintained it's place over the wound, hidden beneath armorweave. "Overall, I think this went well...the armor fits, that's what's important, right?" His crimson eye lifted to the Sith Knight, the nonchalance about him towards his injury might be somewhat unsettling, to the uninitiated.

@Vrag

 

[Vrag]

A major part of what made Vrag such a skilled fighter was that she was aware of herself: her strengths, her limits, her reach, her weaknesses. She drew on that intimate knowledge whenever she had to make a split-second decision in combat, a subconscious instinct that told her when to pace herself and when to push, when to pull back and when to unleash the full force of her fury upon an unsuspecting opponent.

Her slam was meant to merely remind the Wrath of that strength, to pin him against the organic wall and leave inscribed upon his flesh a souvenir to recall if he ever forgot again. Instead of feeling the muscle and bone give, however, she felt it snap underneath the pressure of her armored forearm, bending beyond its capabilities.

She took a step back as the tall man crumbled before her, her motion that of surprise, not regret. Blue eyes fell on his oddly small form, on the keeled curve of his body. How strange it was to see him like this after having witnessed the fires and the dead left in his wake. Something about her perception of [member="Reverance"] changed in that instant as she gazed down upon his pain, feeling its tendrils radiate towards her. Like to like.

She watched him with a curious glint in her eye, her gaze drifting over to the hand that had broken something so great so easily. The Sith Lord explained, of course, with a bloody laugh that called back the image of the warrior forged in flame and death, but Gabriel didn't remain unaltered. That brief moment of vulnerability he'd shown her had changed that, and now Reverance wore a wreath of thorns upon his proud head, dark blood spilling over into the lines of the tattoos adorning his body.

"It is," Vrag nodded, finally, her tone slightly absent as she met his crimson eye with the blue of her own. "We shall have fun with this, I think," she continued, somewhat more grounded as she offered him that same hand, feeling the legs of the Vonduun shift against her in time with her flexor muscles.

"The Shapers did an excellent job," a hint of a smile pulled at her mouth. "Someone must have a good eye."

 

[Reverance]

Refocusing, he took her hand as she lifted him up with the flexor strength of the suit, his other hand pressed against the welt hidden beneath the suit. He could feel the warmth in his armorweave turn to cold, as the puncture against his back had solidified in some form of scab. Likely to re-open with any abrupt move he made. But for the times he would focus on his pain for the euphoria, he would also conceal it to prevent ecstasy from disabling him. He had half a mind to punch her right in the chest, but didn't feel like breaking his hand. With a wolfish grin, he approached the metal cart. With the deft hands of a man obviously practiced in wearing the armor, he assembled his own pieces, absent the opportunity for her to grope him in the same light. Something he had considered for a time, but pain would be met with pain it seemed. Something they were both accustomed.

With a lift of the torso over him, he moved the fleshy armor over the legs, before inspecting himself with a downward look. "I do...have a good eye, that is." He spoke quietly as he scratched the side of his face, emphasizing that he had only one of them. As he moved, he felt the armor exhale and breath a sigh, having known this body many times before. He pressed against the location where his ribs were broken, feeling the rigidness of the armor and how it deflected kinetic damage. That was good, he'd need it soon enough. Walking over to another locker, he fiddled with the systems before unhinging the door with a bit of frustration and flinging the sheet away. Reaching in, he pulled back out and tossed a chitinous rifle to Vrag, before taking his own and mounting it across the back. Little legs, often used to pull the smiles of Vong open for sinister affect, had been instead transferred to the back to aid in weapon holding while running.

Yanking the bandoleers out from the rack, he handed a set of insects to the woman while eyeing her with a bit more vigilance. He had every intent to deliver her a certain level of pain, closely resembling what he now felt through painful and reminding breath. Even if he deserved what he got, he was all about sharing and given the right circumstances, he would reveal to her the strength that had dominated worlds beneath crushing boot sole. But that was likely for later, presented in a different format - now was for processing and development. "Chitin Carbine...loaded with thud bugs. It's the equivalent of a standard rifle, just living and breathing like you or I." He spoke matter of fact, as if taking her through some sort of training ceremony. "Now, this wasn't just about your armor...it was also about this..." The Chom-huun, seemingly appearing from nowhere, ignited in a radiating blast of orange energy closely resembling that of a lightsaber. He held it up for inspection.

"They call it a Chom-huun, but we can just refer to it as a vong saber..." He said, eyeing the beam before striking downward slicing the bench into solid pieces. "Of course, this one is mine and bound to me. But if you would like, if you can take time out from your busy schedule of pummeling me...I can introduce you to yours."

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Surprisingly enough, the ever proud man she knew as Reverance took the proffered hand, wrapping his gloved fingers around the legs of the Vondunn that formed a nigh-impenetrable lattice around her forearm. With a heave that required much less from her than usual, the woman pulled him to his feet, noting the slight curve of his back as he favored his wounded side. It was a small thing, in the grand scheme of things, and both of them had incurred much greater injuries in and out of battle.

Still, broken ribs were nothing to scoff at, considering how easily one of the jagged edges could slip and pierce the paretial pleura, puncturing the lung and filling it with blood. Not a very good way to go, all things considered, and lengthy enough that the individual would learn what it's like to drown on dry land.

Vrag shivered at the thought, filled with both with excitement and morbid fascination as she followed Gabriel with her cold blue eyes, amusement twinkling in those icy orbs as the Sith Lord covered his exposed body with crab as well. Removed from that personal experience, the Knight could certainly appreciate the way he skillfully placed the Vondunn upon his limbs, the creatures needing little adjustment. It was obvious from the sheer level of comfort and swiftness he displayed while putting on the armor that he'd been doing this for a long time, and she wondered just how long the Wrath had been consorting with Vong.

A question for another time, she reminded herself with a shadow of a smile, pushing off of the organic wall at her back as [member="Reverance"] led the way to the locker room. She caught the weapon easily enough, admiring the way the shifting of crab-legs upon her flesh aided even the speed of her reflexes. Her mouth pulled into a wider smile, revealing just the hint of sharp canines behind red lips. Vrag listened to his curt, to-the-point explanation while turning the living gun around in her hands, inspecting the writhing mass. The surprises weren't over quite yet, however.

She looked up just in time to see the saber in Gabriel's hand hiss to life, its orange light casting long shadows about the dimly lit room. A small chuckle escaped her chest at his friendly jibe, and the Knight grinned at him even as he tongue peeked out to wet her lips.

"These poor guys need some company, I guess," she said as she gestured to her armor, her gaze still fixated on the curious imitation of the lightsaber in his grasp. "How does it work?" she asked after a few seconds of intense study, lifting her eyes to the sole crimson staring back.

"And can I meet mine?"

 

[Reverance]

"I suppose..." He said, as if he had no original plans to present her with one of her own. "How it works?" He pressed a polyp, the rectum closing and the small beast suddenly squealing, likely from the acute onset of constipation. "Alset would be the better one to talk about it. What I do know is this..." He placed the Chom-huun against his armor, as the legs from the vonduun caressed the beast as if one of it's own, before ensnaring it with a gingerly hug. He beckoned the woman to follow him, they would need to go to another chamber for this. Their walk would take them through a winding hallway, the likes of which smelled of organic steam, the walls coated in slickness and resembling the inner lining of an intestinal tract. It may as well have been them crawling through the gut of a beast, given that the building was predominantly Vong.

"The Hrosha-gul were having trouble with these..." He held up a glowing fruit, pulled from a lambent tree in the fields of Selvaris. "Large store houses were exploding from tremendous heat. So they made these little guys to consume the fruits, calling them Chom-Huun after the parent species, Chom-Vrone." He gestured towards an open room, the likes of which seemed to pulsate on a rhythm. "The good doctor worked with them. Initially, the little things ate the Lambent fruit and defecated out energy, blowing up the store houses anyway. Dr. Niest made a few modifications, with the help of the shapers...something about putting the eye balls inside for focusing, learning to control the rectum with a polyp, and using herniated intestines to make it straight or curved...for preference." He smiled as he said the last part, scratching the side of his face with the armorweave gloves. "I only read over the notes a few times, but it seems the doctor was quite smitten with the process. Seemed to me like a decent effort...but the results are sound." He waved to a stand, almost reminiscent of a sepulcher or ritual table.

Walking with [member="Vrag"], he placed his hand on the table as he looked upon the little beast that would soon be her vong saber. "Now, an odd artifact of their consumption of Lambent is that...they take on the sort of neediness of the plant. Meaning that when you first bond, you need to treat it tenderly." He smiled, the idea of Vrag being gentled was something far removed from his thoughts. "Once you do that, it will bind to you forever...and if you lose it, it will starve itself to death in your absence." They could get into more details, as he was actually well versed in the anatomy of the beast. He knew that four weeks was what it would take to kill this thing, but that and more were details easily read for a later date. Bigger vong to fry, as it were.

 

[Vrag]

Small wrinkles formed in the corners of her eyes as the woman smiled back at him, oddly genuine in her gesture — how utterly absurd, considering she'd broken his ribs mere moments ago —her gaze sliding from Gabriel's face to the creature he so gently placed upon his chest. She watched as the organism was welcomed by the Vonduun, wondering for the first time how she'll get along with her own armor.

Crazy, she thought, glancing down at the intertwined, chitinous legs that formed a nigh-impenetrable lattice around her body. Strangely enough, the animals laid upon her flesh didn't feel restricting at all, their weight instead a calming presence not dissimilar to that of cold durasteel. The difference was, of course, that durasteel didn't breathe, nor did it have a pulse, but Vrag reckoned she would get used to that within a few days.

[member="Reverance"] spoke again, and she lifted her gaze to lock it with his crimson one, listening to the explanation with rapt attention; when he'd been donning her armor, the Knight had been far too focused on not punching the man to catch any of his warnings. This time, however, the woman merely grinned at his transparent remark, shaking her head ever so slightly. It was a curious thing, really, how far they could go in other aspects of their lives while still retaining some similarities to the 'normal' people. Perhaps it was an unconscious, desperate last-ditch effort on their part, to try and keep at least a sliver of their humanity intact while everything else was sacrificed on the altar of blood and bones.

She stopped as he did, quietly amused at his proposition. "Forever? I don't know, Rev," her blue eyes flickered over to the creature lying on the cool metal, still free of its bonds to a mass murderer. Not that a Vong would mind being wielded by someone like her, though. "I'm not sure I'm ready to tie the knot."

Two could play this game.

"But I guess I can try," softer this time, with less jest in her tone. She reached out with her hand, letting the disfigured animal crawl into her open palm, wrapping her armored fingers around its body with what could almost be considered gentleness. Just don't tell anyone.

"May I have this dance, Gabriel?" the hand grasping her not-quite-saber fell to her side as she offered him the other, lips curled into a cheeky grin.

"If you think you can handle another pummeling, of course."

 

[Reverance]

He smiled, her comment regarding commitment was one he believed with a sort of sideways grin. Up until joining the One Sith and meeting Matsu, he felt a sort of kindred relation to that notion. He wasn't a fan of tethers, they drew him away from purpose and injected weakness into something he considered relatively absent of the vulnerability. But for the One Sith, that was hardly something construed in such poor lighting. And for Matsu, well, to imply a weakness residing there only proved that the person neither understood Matsu Xiangu nor the relationship that Gabriel had with her. But for Vrag, the Sith Lord wasn't exactly sure how he felt about the tall woman.

She seemed capable of moments of sincerity, but between the jabs and pummeling of those who got close, it seemed that what lied beneath remained clouded by turbid waters. In her own way, she reminded him of himself - something beaten and misused and lashing out for dislike of the ideals of comfort and proximity. He didn't have her completely pegged just yet, each scenario pulling another layer back to see it healed and hidden once more, but he felt a sort of confidence in the growing understanding. Nourished with blood and battle, it was the healthy sort of relationship he appreciated. Nevertheless, she was an egg that needed cracking.

"Ygdris...that mouth of yours...its going to get you into trouble some day..." He verbally jabbed before stepping away from the table and back stepping in line, a show of coordination as his view fixed upon the Firrerreo. As he stepped back, he slashed the ground with a backwards arc of the saber, the orange energy tracing burns of curvature against the organic lining of a floor. It moaned in anger as fluid seemed to well upward, before he pressed the polyp and extinguished the blade back into the Chom-huun. Pushing his left arm against his body, he bent his knees and pressed the palm outward, his right arm held back in a one handed tail guard. From his left hand, he released a massive force push, culminating from the pain in his back, to test the suit against the force. "Maybe that day is today..."

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

She twitched lightly at his use of her name — her real name — but wearing armor again was like a physical barrier that helped her keep her emotions in check. A shrink might say that her tendency to wear plate all the time was a reflection of underlying issues, but it was unlikely that any psychiatrist would ever get a chance to examine the woman, much less live to tell the tale. Not that she had anger issues, of course.

Still, no time to linger on such inconsequential thoughts, for the Sith Lord was more than eager to take her up on the offer. The Knight found she didn't mind at all, and moving away from conversation to physicality was always a good thing in her book. They'd had their share of soul-to-soul today — more than enough, even — and she was almost visibly eager to test both the organic lightsaber and herself against [member="Reverance"].

Wounded or not, the man would undoubtedly make for a formidable opponent, and a lesser fighter would surely have trembled at the prospect of crossing blades with someone of his repute. Vrag, however, was neither scared nor a lesser fighter, and the only thing coursing through her veins at the moment — besides blood, of course — was excitement in the form of adrenaline. Or the firrerreo equivalent of the hormone, anyway.

Happy as she was to respond to his cheeky challenge, the woman didn't really get the chance to do much more than ignite the Vong saber in her grasp before this Force push slammed against the Vonduun adorning her body. A reflex left over from the time when she still wore durasteel plate instantly caused her to relax in preparation of being sent backwards into whatever obstacle she encountered first, but the unpleasant ragdolling never came. Aside from a feeling akin to a gale ruffling her hair, nothing major happened, and the Knight merely rocked backwards a bit, not even warranting a shift in footing. Her lips quirked in unexpected pleasure, and the crabs upon her flesh reacted without pause as the woman moved forth in the opening, never one to miss an opportunity like this.

She was an aggressive, if controlled duelist, and the small window afforded by his ineffective attack would not go unexploited. Seeking to impose her own tempo upon Gabriel, the woman used what little momentum he'd provided her with as she advanced on him, her wrist the final conduit for all that kinetic energy before she transferred it to the blade in one fluid motion. Even as her strike would fall upon his exposed left hand from the third guard, her feet would move as well, seeking to establish a pace of her own and keep him on the defensive.

 

[Reverance]

Wounded or not, Gabriel didn't claim his mantle upon sniveling over broken bones and cut flesh. He was stone that occasional bled, moved to purpose by a stringent need to cause harm and inflict pain. Would this little fight be any different? For the moment, probably. Ydgris, yes ygdris, was someone that he respected for the capacity to inflict misery in the same manner that he so fervently endorsed. She had been named the title formally held by the new Wrath but even so, she epitomized the position despite her accepted rank and long before she was given the position, she acted under the clause of Hand. The republic had suffered hard wounds at the end of her knife but now, now she would deal with a far more capable foe than what the republic had shown her. Even equipped with his wounds, his mind numbed the pain for fear of translating into something more carnal, and he felt the warm soak of the blood against the back.

She approached, coming for his extended hand. It was an unfortunate decision, though valid, as that was the side she had previously set grievous injury against. The right arm came up, thumb depressing polyp, as the blade ignited in a blast of orange pulsating hue. As it moved forward, he twisted his wrist, counter clockwise to Vrag. With his left arm withdrawing just the slightest, the right arm would push up with the rotation, to deflect the Firrerreo's attack up and away from it's downward angle attempt. With the same fluid movement, taking advantage of his size and proximity, his right foot would jump out, to kick her hard in Vrag's left arm or rib. With both of them were wearing armor, the effects would be negligible to causing actual kinetic damage. It might hurt though.

While he couldn't interact with his weapon or armor through the force, he could still push his body forward with Force Speed, as he maneuvered in blinks and blurs. He wasn't above using this on Vrag and perhaps in the demonstration, she would pick up on the practice.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

One of the main reasons why she liked Makashi so was that it allowed for control the likes of which other Forms couldn't even dream of. There was a certain… je ne sais quoi about striking with speed and precision instead of brute force that made the style so much more attractive, though perhaps in night comic contrast to the Knight's bulk. She was both tall and muscular, and naturally most opponents expected something like Djem-So from her, or perhaps even Juyo.

That foolish misconception alone sometimes proved fatal for those unfortunate souls, and the woman was more than happy to capitalize on their misguided assumptions.

[member="Reverance"], however, was neither foolish nor misguided, and he certainly knew how to fight. Despite his injury, the Sith Lord reacted with astonishing speed, batting her attack to the side as he sought to disrupt her equilibrium with well-aimed kick to her open left side. Her feet struggled to maneuver her out of his line of attack, but Vrag succeeded only partially in this endeavor, and the tip of his organic boot connected with the crab armor just under the left cartilaginous arc of her ribs. Had she been wearing only clothes, a kick like that would have surely caused massive damage to the pancreas and the spleen, and likely also internal bleeding, considering the tendency of the latter to rupture when exposed to trauma.

A moot point, however, since Vrag was armored, and as such the Force-augmented blow translated into a substantial, purplish bruise upon her silver skin, nothing more. Well, that, and the momentum that the one-eyed man had so generously lent to her with his combined attack. Instead of resisting the dispersion of kinetic energy, the woman moved with it, taking a step back with her left foot to restore her balance even as she supinated the wrist of her right hand completely, completing the moulinette Gabriel had been so kind as to start for her with his upwards strike.

She brought her orange blade around in what could perhaps be called a circle — if one squinted enough — aiming to slash at his exposed right leg while it still lingered in her proximity.

 

[Reverance]

It was the tendency of a naturally gifted swordsman to allow the sword to follow it's path of momentum, taking advantage with only minimally added force to direct it's path. Of course, he expected nothing less of Vrag, to seek the redistribution of inertia as a manner of gaining advantage. But she should have also known better, that Gabriel would anticipate the perceived weakness, and would actively pursue the protection - that despite the bite of his boot against her ribs, his departure from prudence and towards recklessness indicated a need for increase defenses.

His vong saber beam had already traveled the half circle, emitter angled to his right in a horizontally held right hand. With the aid of his physique, the boon of his manipulation of core weight and the amplification of force speed and armor augmentation, the right hand traveled the distance to find lower pommel clamped by the left hand, as he shifted his weight forward and rotated his body towards the attack, to his left. His right foot would find purpose in it's weight as he pressed down on the ground, blocking the beam with a diagonally held upward guard, held at offset right center and angled to upward to his left.

He pushed back with both legs to afford him distance, a hop if you will, as he cleared the striking distance of the Firrerreo's weapon. Continuing to back step, he would smile as he swung the saber in front of him as if batting, before stopping.

"A mother bear defends her young against a pack of wolves, a feat she is not normally capable. " He began to strafe around her, a predator circling the prey as he cracked his neck. "A caraboose charges through trees and wiphid alike, when threatened, without thought towards it's own well being." He squinted his eye. "Anger...emotion. They belong here, in this fight. You'll never find a wild thing disparaging between what it can do and what it should do. It just...does." He stopped his movement and faced her. "You are half the warrior you could be...you are a brilliant and capable fighter, but you neglect your physiology, the control of adrenaline, the midi-chlorian. It's with in you, you just need to face it." He extinguished his vong saber, holding it out once more, in a tail guard. "It's not something to pray to or something to depend upon. It's not your master or your friend or your God. It is a weapon to be harnessed, it's speed and power, your hands. So...use it." He would unleash the depth of his force power on her now, to push her. It was upon the precipice of desperation that true growth would occur.

[member="Vrag"]