Private Form and Discipline

[Deanez]

The metallic rhythm of her blades echoed through the high-ceilinged training bay, a steady cadence that seemed to bend the ambient hum of Aurora Station to its will. Each movement was precise, economical, a dance of efficiency and control honed by years of repetition. Dean's wiry frame coiled and released like a predator aware of every particle of air, every faint vibration beneath her boots.

She sensed another presence and turned, eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of her brow. The male Chiss regarded her with equal stillness. Dean lowered her weapon just enough to acknowledge him without abandoning form, studying his posture, subtle shifts in weight, and the way the light glinted along his features.

"I am Tenge'deanez'zoza," she said deliberately, each word formal, measured, and precise. "Dean—Sable Talon." Her crimson-tinged eyes met his directly, unblinking but not hostile. The faint tilt of her head was neither casual nor deferential; it was acknowledgment, a marker of recognition and intent. "And you are?"

The training bay seemed to hold its breath with them, the soft hum of the station and distant clatter fading beneath the quiet intensity between two operatives who measured as much with silence as with speech. Blades lowered but remained at the ready, Dean's stance balanced for movement or defense. Every slight motion of the male Chiss was catalogued, every pause analyzed, as she waited for a response that would reveal more than words ever could.

Zinayn

 

[Zinayn]

Zinayn had barely crossed the threshold into the training room when the female inside turned to observe him. Already, they were analyzing each other, and immediately Zinayn felt at home. He often found that humans and other species tended to fill the silence of a moment with needless conversation. They didn't see the need for quiet. They didn't observe like the Chiss did. Seeing one of his kin here in Aurora Station brought him a sense of comfort that he couldn't explain. But he didn't need to explain verbally.

Zinayn inclined his head slightly towards her at her introduction before responding ceremonially, "An honor. I am Irizi'nay'nuru of the Irizi family. Core name Zinayn." His eyes lowered to her blades and then swept over the rest of the room before he fully entered the training bay, hands folded behind his back. He came to a smooth stop several feet from Dean, taking in the state of the girl's target dummy. Deep cuts ran through the figure, not at random by a child at play, but placed tactically by a skilled assassin with extensive knowledge of anatomy.

He half-turned to her, once again meeting her crimson gaze with his own. "I've read your file, along with the record of your operation that earned you the name Sable Talon," he said, watching her for any reaction. After a pause, he continued, "If your skills were to be further refined...I believe you could become an irreplaceable asset to the Diarchy." He turned to face her fully now, looking down on her, but not with malice. "Is that what you want?" he questioned, eyes narrowing as he aimed to find her motive. She looked to be somewhere in the midager range, but Zinayn had not had access to her specific age. But even Chiss as young as 5 had goals and were already thinking of ways to achieve them. He had no doubt that Dean did not get here without some kind of desire.

Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean's crimson eyes met Zinayn's without hesitation, unflinching and calculating. She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment, returning his formal courtesy, her posture low and ready, each movement measured against an unseen opponent.

"I appreciate the assessment," she said evenly, voice clipped, precise. "Your confidence in my abilities is noted. I am aware of my record — and the expectations that accompany it. I do not perform for praise, nor for reputation. I act according to necessity, not admiration."

Her gaze swept briefly to the training dummy, fingers flexing near her belt as though testing an invisible edge. "Becoming irreplaceable… that is not a goal I pursue lightly. Efficiency and precision are sufficient. If those qualities serve the Diarchy, then I will act accordingly. My motivation lies in what must be done, not in accolades or titles."

She studied him for a moment, noting his stance, his awareness, the rhythm of patience in his movements. "If your purpose is to evaluate, then know this: I measure success by results, not potential. My actions will reflect what is necessary, not what is expected."

"My goal," she added, voice controlled and unwavering, "is to act with full competence in the field. To execute missions effectively, without reliance on others. Survival, adaptability, and the ability to respond to any situation are what matter. I measure myself by my actions, not by what others expect or label me. I seek to define my own limits and capabilities — to ensure that, when the Diarchy requires it, I am ready."

Her gaze swept over him briefly, noting his stance and attention, but she revealed nothing of doubt or hesitation. "Recognition or praise is irrelevant. Precision, results, and self-mastery — that is sufficient."

Zinayn