Fable Merrill
As directed by Michael Bay.
(Compiled via Skype RP)
Pow.
The punching bag rocked backwards, shaking the tree it had been hung from. Four more rapid-fire punches slammed into the heavy bag. Not enough, you stupid girl. Harder. Faster. Be better.
The past few months had been incredibly painful - clones tended to grow in rapid spurts, after all, and they were hardly ever pleasant. Certainly not in C-Alpha's case, though there was a bit of solace in the weeks upon weeks of crying herself to sleep from the pain, writhing in agony at all hours.
She'd survived it. Which meant her genetic code was relatively stable, and it was unlikely she'd collapse via tumors any more than a real person. She'd also come out of it with another thing clear - if there'd been any doubt who her genome was taken from, it was now clear. She was a hair shorter and a bit less busty than Fabula, but a much closer approximation than the beanpole she'd been. And more than ever, she was ENERGETIC. However slow she'd felt the comfort of the Force, it raced now through her veins and spurred her to refine her skills, to be and get better. She had a legacy to live up to, after all.
Which was why she was warning up, kickboxing a heavy punching bag hanging from the wing of the Bloody Pilgrim, which had been parked somewhere on the Mercado family grounds. Short shorts, sports bra, fingerless gloves - her mother's daughter, raring to prove herself.
~
What Fable was doing was her own business, as per usual. Fabula wasn't exactly a natural at the whole "child rearing" thing, and she was fixated on the idea of not crowding her new daughter. "Daughter." More like a twin sister by this point, honestly. Well, whatever she was, she was family, and family was allowed to do whatever.
Fabula had had to keep the girl's training brief in days past, since she hadn't yet learned how to breathe in the Force as her elder clone had. Those habits were hard to break, and so she'd allowed Fable to train herself in private for as long as she needed to. After all, Fabs had her own work to handle.
Mandalorians liked big things. Armor, weapons, droids, houses, vehicles, whatever. They enjoyed making huge, dangerous things and testing them in ways that no one else would dare consider. On Mercado land, that frequently meant "drive it against Fabula until one of them can't function any more." Thankfully, all they'd had today was a tank, and wrestling that was one helluva way to start the morning.
Covered in soot and slowly healing her scorch marks and bruises, Fabula returned to her ship sometime before noon. As the door to her ship hissed oppen in greeting, she hummed a quiet tune and fluffed her hair a bit on the way to the shower.
"Fable? Are you up?" If her voice could even be heard, considering how quiet she was being.
~
Punch punch punch kick punch kick jump kick SLAM.
The slam was less an actual impact and more Fable's mental focus collapsing. In a good way. Somebody had called her name, somebody important. In a dead sleep or in a berserk fury, Fable would ever answer that call.
"In here, mum!" She called back, towling her face off before bouncing out to greet Fabula with a million-watt smile. At least when it came to her mom's, Fable had really come out of her shell.
Today, considering she was fired up and full of the Force, that meant Fable came flying around the corner and attempted to take Fabula down in a headlock.
~
It was important to distinguish between rooting yourself in place and simply making yourself durable. Fabula did the latter, which meant that she was just as susceptible to knockback as any other buck-thirty woman. When Fable barreled into her, the Dathomiri renegade fell forward and landed on her...ehem. Padding.
It was reflexive by now to harden her skin at the first sign of aggression. Fable would have a helluva time actually hurting her, but since most of her science-mommy's energy was dedicated to mending the blaster scoring and abrasions she'd earned this morning, she couldn't fight back either. "Nnf!"
That wasn't much of a response. You can do better than that, stupid girl. "Well now. Someone seems to be in a chipper mood this morning."
~
Fable grinned and nodded, tightening the arm she had around her mother's neck - not enough to constrict blood flow, but enough to show off the tensile strength. "I think I get what you were teach me." She confessed, straddling her beta-clones' back with a grin. "About letting the Force guide and suffuse through my body. I think I finally get it!"
She released the headlock and nimbly rolled off her mother, sitting on the floor beside her. "...I also think my growth spurt is finally finished, too." She confessed with profound relief. "That should be the last one. No more pain when I woke up this morning, besides recovery soreness"
~
There was no small hint of relief when Fable let go, and Fabs sat up beside her only with the assistance of the wall to brace herself. "That's wonderful to hear. I'm sorry I couldn't sympathize more. I was kept unconscious while my body grew to maturity."
In any other family, it probably would have been unnerving to have a casual conversation while the person in front of you was healing burn wounds in front of your eyes. But then, any other family wouldn't be speaking about clone growth spurts and cryo freezing. "So does this mean you'd like to test yourself? I'm sure my cargo hold would appreciate having some reprieve for a while."
~
Fable took the opportunity to soak up some physical contact by laying her head on Fabula's leg - she might never get over the (so far) significant portion of her life she'd spent in isolation, and had ever been a bit clingy once she'd realized that Fabula and Lynn were serious about adopting her. "If you feel up to it." Fable promised with a warm smile, shifting her long, long hair out of the way. "I'm not in a hurry, and I think you might want some time to recover." She added, having noted the burns and scrapes mending. It must have been quite a trial, to break the skin of her invincible mother.
~
With a quiet giggle, Fabula shook her head and ran her fingers through the younger clone's hair. "I'm fine, Fable. I'm afraid I can't say the same thing for the tank, but at least now Lynn's cousin will have the data he needs to improve it." Plus, she got to wrestle an armored transport. It was the small things in life.
"Though I suppose I could use a shower before I get into anything too intimate. Would you like one first? I can find us some breakfast..."
~
Fable shook her head and smiled. "I'll fix something!" She promised, content to lay on the floor and bask in affection until Fabula deemed herself ready to move. She wanted to cook, to help out in any way she could. Partly out of love, partly out of thanks, and at least a fair bit so she could lessen the chances that Fabula might get sick of having her around and kick her to the curb.
Be pleasant. Be useful. Don't be your reject self, idiot girl.
That being said, Fable couldn't cook to save her life, even though she found her own food to be delicious.
~
As if Fabula cared what she ate. Most of the time she subsisted on nutrient paste. Giving her science-baby a soft stroke of the cheek, she bent down to kiss her forehead before sitting back up. "Well, alright then. I really do need to go wash up. I don't want the ship smelling like burned flesh." That's what incense was for.
After a moment, she managed to convince herself to squirm out from beneath Fable, trying her absolute best not to disturb the girl, futile though it was. The shower awaited! And since she wasn't showering with Lynn for once in what had to have been a galactic standard month, she didn't have to worry about cornering anyone with her frontage.
~
And Fable was off, busy at work to make a bracing, delicious breakfast! Or, at least, something edible. Miss Alna had sent some sort of bacon recently, the remainder of which was busily put to fry. No eggs, though. Bacon and cheese sandwich! Delicious.
Working around her breasts was a little irritating, as Fable was still getting used to them. She was adjusting quick, though, not in the least because she'd been trying to study and mimic Fabula's moments for some time. Humming under her breath, swaying and listening to talk shows - a definite child of the television - fable passed the time until her progenitor was clean and ready to help her sharpen her skills.
~
Clean hair! Clean...everything else, too! The cold water felt incredible on Fabula's skin, but that was hardly the first time she'd taken a shower while wounded, and probably wouldn't be the last. She always did enjoy the sensation of cool liquid soothing her punished flesh, and she'd never admit it to Lynn, but her favorite time to shower was probably right after she was mauled by something or other.
It didn't speed her healing, of course. It just felt nice.
Eventually Fabula was clean and dry(ing), and walked out of her room with a fresh set of clothes on. Well. "Clothes." A roll of grav tape wrapped sarashi-style around her tits and a matching pair of loose pants probably didn't count as clothes in most cultures. It made a great neutral set to lounge about in before she found herself in a fight, though...
The clone-lass' wounds were mostly mended when she took a seat in her ship's rec area, sighing quietly and contentedly. "Much better."
~
Fable bounced into the room and behind the chair, setting a pair of sandwiches in the shelf her progenitor had so graciously been made with. It felt good to do nice things for her. Thigh, if Rave had learned how much joy Fable derived from simple acts of service and affection, her life might've been very different. But Rave had wanted a weapon, and had done her best to drive that weapon away. Now she was dead.
Fable had no idea on that last part.
Flopping across her own chair, Fable tore into her sandwich, completely ravenous. Aging the better part of a decade in a few months did that to a girl.
~
Once again, the gene-twins practically mirrored each other, though for different reasons. Fabula was utterly famished because of how much energy she had expended earlier taking on mobile artillery. Her plate was bare in probably three minutes, easily, leaving her to smile silently at her science-baby.
"You've grown up so quickly," she started whistfully. "I can still remember that little girl I met back on a refueling satellite..."
~
Fable, having just finished her own dish, turned slightly flush with pleasure and replied with a proud smile. It was nice to be noticed. How could she being anywhere else, but making proud the woman who shared her face? Fable sat upright and smoothed her hair out, smiling sheepishly. "Accelerated aging, mother." She pointed out in a small voice, as though apologetic for reminding Fabula of such an obvious thing.
~
"Of course," she replied simply, resting her hands in her lap for a long moment before she overcame her own blush long enough to speak again. "...I apologize in advance for the next few years of your life. There will be some...complications." Attempting to be subtle, Fabs pressed her arms forwards, squeezing her bust out a bit. "Grav tape will be your closest, most intimate friend."
~
Fable turned bright pink and looked anywhere but down or at her template. "...I assumed as much." She admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck, shoulders slumped self-consciously to hide her own bust. Didn't work, but she'd grow into that idea. "They surely complicate your fighting, mother... Why not... Have them reduced in size? Surgically?" Fable suggested nervously. "Wouldn't it make your life easier?"
~
Fabula's voice was barely audible when she responded, but her smile couldn't have been any more prominent. "...Lynn likes them. I would endure much worse to see her smile." Besides, after you learned to join your body with the Force, little things like back pains seemed to slip away.
~
Right. Duh. Should have worked that out on your own, imbecile. Even though Fabula and Lynn weren't thai old of a couple, they'd basically been together longer than Fable had been alive, so this answer was satisfying on a few levels. Learn from her example, Fable would.
Mirroring the smile through her blush, Fable stood up and stretched her arms above her head, showing off her height and not-quite-defined-yet abs. She was ready to brawl, if it'd convince mom to forget her stupid questions.
~
Right. Standing up time. Fabula lifted herself to her feet, stretching each arm across her body in turn before walking towards the hatch. "It would probably be best to take this outside." After all, she didn't want to have to hammer another dent out of her bulkhead just because she missed a punch.
The door hissed open in front of her, and Fabula took a long moment to steady her breathing as she stepped outside. Her burn scars were little more than scabs by now, her bruises all but vanished. Turned out the better part of an hour of rest and some food was all she needed to get back to working condition. Functional. Like a good battle droid.
More importantly, her breathing exercises were one of the few things that she actually used to manage her own intenal furnace. Matukai instuction required katas and routines in order to channel energy down the body, and Fabula still hadn't taken the time to learn anything more than the most basic of stretches. Breathing was simple and effective, allowing her to steadily toughen her hide as she moved.
"When you're ready."
~
Fable was getting ready in her own way. Clarity of mind was something that didn't come naturally to her, but clarity of purpose did. The younger of two Fabs bounced a few times on the balls of her feet, eyes closed. Feel the grass between your toes - it makes the ground a more solid grip. Feel the warm late-morning air, and let it push you towards victory. She was a weapon, but not one that made use of much precision. A bludgeon, a mace, full of force to be applied in a specific direction.
The Force flowed through the earth below and the clouds above and even through her. Especially through her. Let it push you forward, add weight to your punches, and use it to win.
Stretching her legs behind herself, Fable turned to gave her mother and bowed respectfully. For her sake, Fable would do well - for her sake, she wouldn't lose control. Curling her fingers info tight fists, Fable paused half a heartbeat before launching herself forward, trying to wrap her hands around Fabula's neck and bring her head down into a powerful rising knee.
~
Fabula had found herself a decent place to stand a few meters away, arms in that simple brawler's stance Lynn had taught her so many months ago. When Fable came close, Fabula thought to move, but instead decided to test her duplicate's imagination. Knee strike? Well, that was a little more creative than Fabs usually went for...
As she felt her neck pulled down, Fabula struck a foot back behind her. The burn of her muscles functioned as a conduit not for the Force around her, but for the Force within her. Magnified a dozen fold from even a simple action like that, she was able to thrash her head back in Fable's grip. Whether it broke her hold or sent her flying depended entirely on how quickly she decided to let go.
The elder clone had no idea how firm her descendant's defenses were, so she decided to go for speed and rugged toughness over raw physical power. From the moment of her hold-breaking wrench, she swiftly moved into breathing distance, bringing her knee up toward Fable's gut in the same motion. The follow-through was in her palm, coming straight from the right into a collision course with the younger woman's jaw.
Subtlety, thy name did -not- begin with "Fab."
~
Rather than cracking Fabula's brow over her knee, Fable herself was lifted almost into the air. She'd somewhat anticipated such a ballsy start to fail, though, and defended herself by releasing the grab and blocking - barely - mom's retaliatory knee strike with her palms, letting her arms and shoulders absorb the brunt of the force like springs. Force that just about lifted her off her feet. Ouch.
Intuition and gut survival instinct informed Fable of the disaster whistling towards her jaw almost too late to do anything about it. Unaware that she was being tested - unaware that fifteen of her could fight Fabula and still lose without making her get serious - Fable opted to get risky and avoid having her jaw broken by lunging forward to remove the target that was her head from easy striking range - with a vicious headbutt.
~
-Crack!-
Fabula grunted, her plasteel-skinned face brought forcibly into contact with another. Her head recoiled back a bit, but now that Fable had moved -toward- her to evade her palm thrust, that left the girl's neck between an arm and a body. Fabula grabbed her in a similar head lock to the one that her science-daughter had tried on her earlier...
And hurled her. Yes, she moved some Force potency from speed to strength in order to get more air, but an throw didn't normally do much actual damage unless you landed on something harmful. The ground might leave her addled or bruised, but not injured. Hopefully.
~
It was very disorienting to suddenly be no longer on solid ground, and instead flying. Fable gave an indignant "AUCK?!" Of surprise, landing in an uncoordinated, rolling heap. Some children learned to land gracefully, some managed to be clumsy in just the right way to avoid breaking something. Fable, in this case, was the latter. When she was done rolling across the ground, the teen spat out a mouthful of grass and shook her head to clear it, momentarily stunned and disoriented.
~
Speed again. Fabula took a runner's hike, tensing her muscles for a moment before dashing towards her recovering ward. When she was close enough, she kicked off the ground and brought her leg around in a truly impressive roundhouse kick, complete with the half-cloud of grass following her leg from the ground.
She didn't bother with anything more than her own natural strength. The momentum of the blow would hurt enough on its own. Unfortunately, it did leave her in the air for at least a precious couple of seconds...
~
Which Fable recognized for the opening it was. Digging her feet into the ground, mustering her strength, the teen cleared her mind by force and acted on instinct. An airborne rather was vulnerable, no matter how good her balance was. Even mom.
Driven by the urgency of a brief window, Fable threw herself forward from the ground - a crouch becoming a sprint becoming a tackle.
~
Good girl! Once again, Fabs reacted with a quiet little "nnfh," her body buckling forward at the force of a charging teenager. On reflex, gene-mommy reached forward and grabbed -fiercely-, holding on tight and considering what her next move would be. She didn't want to fall back on another throw...
~
Fable might have realized that she was at a severe disadvantage grappling with a force of nature like Fabula Cavataio - but the legend she was was a distant awareness. This was her teacher and mother. Fable would show her what she could do.
Besides, past the first few moves, Fable fought more on instinct than discipline, and instinct wanted to ground things and ravage them with her steely little fists.
Hooking her arms around Fabula, Fable dug into thigh and backside and whatever she could... And lifted. "RrrrrAGH!" While she wasn't berserk or losing control, that part of get still gave her some strength when she let it. And it was loud! Lifting her mother just a few inches higher than she'd thought able, Fable tried to drive/slam her progenitor into the ground, aided by gravity.
~
Suddenly the ground was behind her head. Fabula grunted once more, doing a full-body flop in response to being violently reintroduced to the grass. In a fair universe, she would have been stunned by the force ofthe impact. This did not seem to be a fair universe.
In the space of a moment, Fabula brought her legs around in a helicopter motion, both to clear Fable out and to put her feet back on the ground. Carrying the velocity with her, she extended one leg as she placed the other foot on the turf and swept a quick kick at her crazy little scion. Kick, and...
With a bit more force than before, the busty Dathomiri followed up her sweeping kick with a Force-empowered jab towards her product's rib cage. The flames of her soul were practically flickering up to her throat, which was a little like the mystical version of "really good cardio."
~
The moment she got her target on her back, Fable was reinvigorated by a second wind - but didn't get the chance to satisfy her inner warmonger by pelting Fabula with punches, essentially thrown off by some fancy (i.e.skillful) kick nonsense.
Fable established her balance quickly, just in time to backstep a kick, then step back in fit what she figured was an opening. It wasn't. A second kick slammed info Fable's side, eliciting a sharp yelp of surprise from the teen as she was nearly sent sprawling by the Force behind it. Nearly. Fable wrapped her arm and the leg and... Collapsed?
The nimble girl wrapped herself around Fabula's leg like a snake and tried to twist her to the ground under threat of breaking a bone.
~
Well...-that- was a thing. Not one to be forced into a corner so easily, Fabula immediately hopped her other leg into the air and did indeed fall to the ground...after setting her heel on a direct collision course with her descendant's face. Hopefully she didn't hit too hard. It got a bit more difficult to judge how much power she was bringing to bear after she really started getting into a fight.
~
Alright, all she had to do was twist this way and pull that way and it should hurt without breaking anything hopefully and then she could-CLONK.
Fable wasn't aware that an Atomic Leg Drop was even a thing, but all the little Hulksters know that it's the most efficient way to deliver freedom via force in the Galaxy. Hit right on the side of her head head, Fable lost her grip and nearly her consciousness, now more pinned beneath that long leg than restraining it.
~
Holding that thigh trap for a few seconds, Fabula eventually smiled and removed her leg, rolling back onto her shoulders, then her hands. One slightly impressive slow backbend later, she was on her feet and offering a hand to Fable. "You're getting much better! I think I might have a headache." If voices could smile.
~
Fable took the hand up, rubbing the side of her head with a sheepish, but pleased, smile. "Thanks, mom. But I think my head might ache more than yours." She confessed with a smirk. She didn't take losing so hard, at least not against this foe. "Any tips?"
~
With a sideways expression on her face, Fabula crossed her arms under her bust and thought for a moment. "Hm...well, technique isn't really my area of expertise. If you're looking to improve your fundamentals, I'd suggest practicing with Lynn and her family."
But there was something she -could- help with. "As for how you're applying your advanced learning...speed is the thing you should be working on the most. Your strength is good, but your movements are sluggish. How are you focusing yourself to improve your body?" That question was...a bit vague. "Um...for example, I tend to consider my body a furnace. A meditative abstract tends to help most initiates."
~
Fable crossed her arms in the exact same way, mimicking Fabula. "I... Don't, really." She admitted, hip cocked slightly to the side. "I know it sounds kinda dumb, but, like... When I'm fighting, I don't think much. And when I'm training, it's the same way. I blank out. The, um, angry part of me knows how it likes to fight, so I just kind of go with it?" She 'explained'. "Usually, I just run and practice on the bag for training, so I guess that's what I'm investing into speed."
~
"Well then, we'll work on that first," Fabs responded with a soft smile. "It really does help to have something to envision. Your mind shapes reality, and your body is much easier to shape than the world around it. If you can shape your body within your mind, the Force will accomodate it."
Stopping to consider for a moment, she tapped her forehead as if physically signalling that she had an idea. "Try imagining a flame. Its color, its height, its surface area...three different facets of yourself."
~
Fable nodded and took a breath, letting her arms fall to her sides. "A flame." She echoed, trying her best - earnest though she was, Fable wasn't particularly clever or imaginative when it didn't come to fighting. "First thing that comes to mind. Flame. Umm. Small and orange? Like a candle. Flickery." She explained, eyes closed.
~
Stepping forward, Fabula placed a hand on the girl's forehead. "Good. Now, that flame is you. A strong fire burns brighter. A fire that spreads to a large area is hard to put out. Each aspect of this little candle flicker you've described is yours to shape how you desire...just as your body is. Just as the Force within you is."
~
Fable nodded, swallowing and trying to keep this metaphoric lesson in her mind. "The flame is me." She echoed, wondering if she should have chosen a more formidable, suitably awesome fire to impress... Well, mom likely wouldn't have cared either way. Still, a candle? Lame, lame, lame. Suits you well, idiot.
~
Her smile almost impish, Fabula leaned in closer. "Not very big, is it? Well...let's fix that." Moving her hands to either shoulder, she gripped firmly and exhaled. "Make the flame roar. Make it stronger, blazing into the darkness of the world around you. From a single flicker to a warm fire...feel the heat of it spread into your arms. Your legs. Your whole body. The warmth of the Force spreading within you."
~
The darkness of the world?
...ALL of it?
From that little candle?
Fable wasn't sure what to make of that, considering that she had never particularly viewed the Galaxy a very metaphorically dark place. Yes, the lab that she'd been cultivated and groomed in - for isolation cubes, rapid-fire education programming and watching her vat-siblings fall to genetic flaws and madness cannot be a place one is reasonably 'born and raised' to - was an irredeemably evil place, but a good portion of Fable would always view herself as having earned it. Or, at the least, deserving of no better. By comparison, the Galaxy outside those miserable little basements was a beautiful, wonderful place.
The Galaxy wasn't dark and full of terrors. Fable was. She was the unwanted speck of horrible in an otherwise delightful reality. Stupid, useless girl. Experiments go into the incinerator when they have fulfilled their purpose, they don't go off pretending to be real people. They don't drag down actual lives with the nonsense-fuelled gibberish of their half-selves.
It was suddenly very easy to picture that stupid little candle growing into an inferno. Fire was the perfect image, because all it did was ruin everything until consuming itself. Nobody was happy to see a fire, unless they were dying of cold. Fable glared down at the ground, morbidly picturing an endless conflagration of lurid orange and red - The flame hadn't been tiny to begin with, after all.
She'd just been distancing herself from it. That didn't change the reality of the thing.
~
There was a tangible thrum in the air. Fabula's sensory abilities were borderline stunted and even she could feel it. Whatever Fable had done had definitely had an effect. But the glare on her face? -That- told her that it probably wasn't the most pleasant of effects. "Fable? I'm here with you. Warm me, but please don't burn me."
~
Whif.
Whatever she'd been doing, it was gone quicker than it'd come. Fable swallowed hard, noting the bitter taste of ozone, like she'd been standing too close to an electric shield generator. Ozone? No, stupid. Blood. Don't mistake an animal's fury for something badass, especially if you're only fooling yourself. "Sorry. I'll try again." Fable promised, closing her-noleavethoseopen. Yes.
Open eyes. The world is better to look at than whatever is going in in your head. The world has mom in it. The world has love, and sunlight and other wonderful things. Warm things. Be like them. Warm, powerful, ubiquitous. Stoic.
Fable pictured a flame again, though without much resolve. It was just a facade for concentrating and focusing herself, which is what she did. Focus, feel that lump of power buried under all that fear, and hold it in your hands. Make it your own.
Pow.
The punching bag rocked backwards, shaking the tree it had been hung from. Four more rapid-fire punches slammed into the heavy bag. Not enough, you stupid girl. Harder. Faster. Be better.
The past few months had been incredibly painful - clones tended to grow in rapid spurts, after all, and they were hardly ever pleasant. Certainly not in C-Alpha's case, though there was a bit of solace in the weeks upon weeks of crying herself to sleep from the pain, writhing in agony at all hours.
She'd survived it. Which meant her genetic code was relatively stable, and it was unlikely she'd collapse via tumors any more than a real person. She'd also come out of it with another thing clear - if there'd been any doubt who her genome was taken from, it was now clear. She was a hair shorter and a bit less busty than Fabula, but a much closer approximation than the beanpole she'd been. And more than ever, she was ENERGETIC. However slow she'd felt the comfort of the Force, it raced now through her veins and spurred her to refine her skills, to be and get better. She had a legacy to live up to, after all.
Which was why she was warning up, kickboxing a heavy punching bag hanging from the wing of the Bloody Pilgrim, which had been parked somewhere on the Mercado family grounds. Short shorts, sports bra, fingerless gloves - her mother's daughter, raring to prove herself.
~
What Fable was doing was her own business, as per usual. Fabula wasn't exactly a natural at the whole "child rearing" thing, and she was fixated on the idea of not crowding her new daughter. "Daughter." More like a twin sister by this point, honestly. Well, whatever she was, she was family, and family was allowed to do whatever.
Fabula had had to keep the girl's training brief in days past, since she hadn't yet learned how to breathe in the Force as her elder clone had. Those habits were hard to break, and so she'd allowed Fable to train herself in private for as long as she needed to. After all, Fabs had her own work to handle.
Mandalorians liked big things. Armor, weapons, droids, houses, vehicles, whatever. They enjoyed making huge, dangerous things and testing them in ways that no one else would dare consider. On Mercado land, that frequently meant "drive it against Fabula until one of them can't function any more." Thankfully, all they'd had today was a tank, and wrestling that was one helluva way to start the morning.
Covered in soot and slowly healing her scorch marks and bruises, Fabula returned to her ship sometime before noon. As the door to her ship hissed oppen in greeting, she hummed a quiet tune and fluffed her hair a bit on the way to the shower.
"Fable? Are you up?" If her voice could even be heard, considering how quiet she was being.
~
Punch punch punch kick punch kick jump kick SLAM.
The slam was less an actual impact and more Fable's mental focus collapsing. In a good way. Somebody had called her name, somebody important. In a dead sleep or in a berserk fury, Fable would ever answer that call.
"In here, mum!" She called back, towling her face off before bouncing out to greet Fabula with a million-watt smile. At least when it came to her mom's, Fable had really come out of her shell.
Today, considering she was fired up and full of the Force, that meant Fable came flying around the corner and attempted to take Fabula down in a headlock.
~
It was important to distinguish between rooting yourself in place and simply making yourself durable. Fabula did the latter, which meant that she was just as susceptible to knockback as any other buck-thirty woman. When Fable barreled into her, the Dathomiri renegade fell forward and landed on her...ehem. Padding.
It was reflexive by now to harden her skin at the first sign of aggression. Fable would have a helluva time actually hurting her, but since most of her science-mommy's energy was dedicated to mending the blaster scoring and abrasions she'd earned this morning, she couldn't fight back either. "Nnf!"
That wasn't much of a response. You can do better than that, stupid girl. "Well now. Someone seems to be in a chipper mood this morning."
~
Fable grinned and nodded, tightening the arm she had around her mother's neck - not enough to constrict blood flow, but enough to show off the tensile strength. "I think I get what you were teach me." She confessed, straddling her beta-clones' back with a grin. "About letting the Force guide and suffuse through my body. I think I finally get it!"
She released the headlock and nimbly rolled off her mother, sitting on the floor beside her. "...I also think my growth spurt is finally finished, too." She confessed with profound relief. "That should be the last one. No more pain when I woke up this morning, besides recovery soreness"
~
There was no small hint of relief when Fable let go, and Fabs sat up beside her only with the assistance of the wall to brace herself. "That's wonderful to hear. I'm sorry I couldn't sympathize more. I was kept unconscious while my body grew to maturity."
In any other family, it probably would have been unnerving to have a casual conversation while the person in front of you was healing burn wounds in front of your eyes. But then, any other family wouldn't be speaking about clone growth spurts and cryo freezing. "So does this mean you'd like to test yourself? I'm sure my cargo hold would appreciate having some reprieve for a while."
~
Fable took the opportunity to soak up some physical contact by laying her head on Fabula's leg - she might never get over the (so far) significant portion of her life she'd spent in isolation, and had ever been a bit clingy once she'd realized that Fabula and Lynn were serious about adopting her. "If you feel up to it." Fable promised with a warm smile, shifting her long, long hair out of the way. "I'm not in a hurry, and I think you might want some time to recover." She added, having noted the burns and scrapes mending. It must have been quite a trial, to break the skin of her invincible mother.
~
With a quiet giggle, Fabula shook her head and ran her fingers through the younger clone's hair. "I'm fine, Fable. I'm afraid I can't say the same thing for the tank, but at least now Lynn's cousin will have the data he needs to improve it." Plus, she got to wrestle an armored transport. It was the small things in life.
"Though I suppose I could use a shower before I get into anything too intimate. Would you like one first? I can find us some breakfast..."
~
Fable shook her head and smiled. "I'll fix something!" She promised, content to lay on the floor and bask in affection until Fabula deemed herself ready to move. She wanted to cook, to help out in any way she could. Partly out of love, partly out of thanks, and at least a fair bit so she could lessen the chances that Fabula might get sick of having her around and kick her to the curb.
Be pleasant. Be useful. Don't be your reject self, idiot girl.
That being said, Fable couldn't cook to save her life, even though she found her own food to be delicious.
~
As if Fabula cared what she ate. Most of the time she subsisted on nutrient paste. Giving her science-baby a soft stroke of the cheek, she bent down to kiss her forehead before sitting back up. "Well, alright then. I really do need to go wash up. I don't want the ship smelling like burned flesh." That's what incense was for.
After a moment, she managed to convince herself to squirm out from beneath Fable, trying her absolute best not to disturb the girl, futile though it was. The shower awaited! And since she wasn't showering with Lynn for once in what had to have been a galactic standard month, she didn't have to worry about cornering anyone with her frontage.
~
And Fable was off, busy at work to make a bracing, delicious breakfast! Or, at least, something edible. Miss Alna had sent some sort of bacon recently, the remainder of which was busily put to fry. No eggs, though. Bacon and cheese sandwich! Delicious.
Working around her breasts was a little irritating, as Fable was still getting used to them. She was adjusting quick, though, not in the least because she'd been trying to study and mimic Fabula's moments for some time. Humming under her breath, swaying and listening to talk shows - a definite child of the television - fable passed the time until her progenitor was clean and ready to help her sharpen her skills.
~
Clean hair! Clean...everything else, too! The cold water felt incredible on Fabula's skin, but that was hardly the first time she'd taken a shower while wounded, and probably wouldn't be the last. She always did enjoy the sensation of cool liquid soothing her punished flesh, and she'd never admit it to Lynn, but her favorite time to shower was probably right after she was mauled by something or other.
It didn't speed her healing, of course. It just felt nice.
Eventually Fabula was clean and dry(ing), and walked out of her room with a fresh set of clothes on. Well. "Clothes." A roll of grav tape wrapped sarashi-style around her tits and a matching pair of loose pants probably didn't count as clothes in most cultures. It made a great neutral set to lounge about in before she found herself in a fight, though...
The clone-lass' wounds were mostly mended when she took a seat in her ship's rec area, sighing quietly and contentedly. "Much better."
~
Fable bounced into the room and behind the chair, setting a pair of sandwiches in the shelf her progenitor had so graciously been made with. It felt good to do nice things for her. Thigh, if Rave had learned how much joy Fable derived from simple acts of service and affection, her life might've been very different. But Rave had wanted a weapon, and had done her best to drive that weapon away. Now she was dead.
Fable had no idea on that last part.
Flopping across her own chair, Fable tore into her sandwich, completely ravenous. Aging the better part of a decade in a few months did that to a girl.
~
Once again, the gene-twins practically mirrored each other, though for different reasons. Fabula was utterly famished because of how much energy she had expended earlier taking on mobile artillery. Her plate was bare in probably three minutes, easily, leaving her to smile silently at her science-baby.
"You've grown up so quickly," she started whistfully. "I can still remember that little girl I met back on a refueling satellite..."
~
Fable, having just finished her own dish, turned slightly flush with pleasure and replied with a proud smile. It was nice to be noticed. How could she being anywhere else, but making proud the woman who shared her face? Fable sat upright and smoothed her hair out, smiling sheepishly. "Accelerated aging, mother." She pointed out in a small voice, as though apologetic for reminding Fabula of such an obvious thing.
~
"Of course," she replied simply, resting her hands in her lap for a long moment before she overcame her own blush long enough to speak again. "...I apologize in advance for the next few years of your life. There will be some...complications." Attempting to be subtle, Fabs pressed her arms forwards, squeezing her bust out a bit. "Grav tape will be your closest, most intimate friend."
~
Fable turned bright pink and looked anywhere but down or at her template. "...I assumed as much." She admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck, shoulders slumped self-consciously to hide her own bust. Didn't work, but she'd grow into that idea. "They surely complicate your fighting, mother... Why not... Have them reduced in size? Surgically?" Fable suggested nervously. "Wouldn't it make your life easier?"
~
Fabula's voice was barely audible when she responded, but her smile couldn't have been any more prominent. "...Lynn likes them. I would endure much worse to see her smile." Besides, after you learned to join your body with the Force, little things like back pains seemed to slip away.
~
Right. Duh. Should have worked that out on your own, imbecile. Even though Fabula and Lynn weren't thai old of a couple, they'd basically been together longer than Fable had been alive, so this answer was satisfying on a few levels. Learn from her example, Fable would.
Mirroring the smile through her blush, Fable stood up and stretched her arms above her head, showing off her height and not-quite-defined-yet abs. She was ready to brawl, if it'd convince mom to forget her stupid questions.
~
Right. Standing up time. Fabula lifted herself to her feet, stretching each arm across her body in turn before walking towards the hatch. "It would probably be best to take this outside." After all, she didn't want to have to hammer another dent out of her bulkhead just because she missed a punch.
The door hissed open in front of her, and Fabula took a long moment to steady her breathing as she stepped outside. Her burn scars were little more than scabs by now, her bruises all but vanished. Turned out the better part of an hour of rest and some food was all she needed to get back to working condition. Functional. Like a good battle droid.
More importantly, her breathing exercises were one of the few things that she actually used to manage her own intenal furnace. Matukai instuction required katas and routines in order to channel energy down the body, and Fabula still hadn't taken the time to learn anything more than the most basic of stretches. Breathing was simple and effective, allowing her to steadily toughen her hide as she moved.
"When you're ready."
~
Fable was getting ready in her own way. Clarity of mind was something that didn't come naturally to her, but clarity of purpose did. The younger of two Fabs bounced a few times on the balls of her feet, eyes closed. Feel the grass between your toes - it makes the ground a more solid grip. Feel the warm late-morning air, and let it push you towards victory. She was a weapon, but not one that made use of much precision. A bludgeon, a mace, full of force to be applied in a specific direction.
The Force flowed through the earth below and the clouds above and even through her. Especially through her. Let it push you forward, add weight to your punches, and use it to win.
Stretching her legs behind herself, Fable turned to gave her mother and bowed respectfully. For her sake, Fable would do well - for her sake, she wouldn't lose control. Curling her fingers info tight fists, Fable paused half a heartbeat before launching herself forward, trying to wrap her hands around Fabula's neck and bring her head down into a powerful rising knee.
~
Fabula had found herself a decent place to stand a few meters away, arms in that simple brawler's stance Lynn had taught her so many months ago. When Fable came close, Fabula thought to move, but instead decided to test her duplicate's imagination. Knee strike? Well, that was a little more creative than Fabs usually went for...
As she felt her neck pulled down, Fabula struck a foot back behind her. The burn of her muscles functioned as a conduit not for the Force around her, but for the Force within her. Magnified a dozen fold from even a simple action like that, she was able to thrash her head back in Fable's grip. Whether it broke her hold or sent her flying depended entirely on how quickly she decided to let go.
The elder clone had no idea how firm her descendant's defenses were, so she decided to go for speed and rugged toughness over raw physical power. From the moment of her hold-breaking wrench, she swiftly moved into breathing distance, bringing her knee up toward Fable's gut in the same motion. The follow-through was in her palm, coming straight from the right into a collision course with the younger woman's jaw.
Subtlety, thy name did -not- begin with "Fab."
~
Rather than cracking Fabula's brow over her knee, Fable herself was lifted almost into the air. She'd somewhat anticipated such a ballsy start to fail, though, and defended herself by releasing the grab and blocking - barely - mom's retaliatory knee strike with her palms, letting her arms and shoulders absorb the brunt of the force like springs. Force that just about lifted her off her feet. Ouch.
Intuition and gut survival instinct informed Fable of the disaster whistling towards her jaw almost too late to do anything about it. Unaware that she was being tested - unaware that fifteen of her could fight Fabula and still lose without making her get serious - Fable opted to get risky and avoid having her jaw broken by lunging forward to remove the target that was her head from easy striking range - with a vicious headbutt.
~
-Crack!-
Fabula grunted, her plasteel-skinned face brought forcibly into contact with another. Her head recoiled back a bit, but now that Fable had moved -toward- her to evade her palm thrust, that left the girl's neck between an arm and a body. Fabula grabbed her in a similar head lock to the one that her science-daughter had tried on her earlier...
And hurled her. Yes, she moved some Force potency from speed to strength in order to get more air, but an throw didn't normally do much actual damage unless you landed on something harmful. The ground might leave her addled or bruised, but not injured. Hopefully.
~
It was very disorienting to suddenly be no longer on solid ground, and instead flying. Fable gave an indignant "AUCK?!" Of surprise, landing in an uncoordinated, rolling heap. Some children learned to land gracefully, some managed to be clumsy in just the right way to avoid breaking something. Fable, in this case, was the latter. When she was done rolling across the ground, the teen spat out a mouthful of grass and shook her head to clear it, momentarily stunned and disoriented.
~
Speed again. Fabula took a runner's hike, tensing her muscles for a moment before dashing towards her recovering ward. When she was close enough, she kicked off the ground and brought her leg around in a truly impressive roundhouse kick, complete with the half-cloud of grass following her leg from the ground.
She didn't bother with anything more than her own natural strength. The momentum of the blow would hurt enough on its own. Unfortunately, it did leave her in the air for at least a precious couple of seconds...
~
Which Fable recognized for the opening it was. Digging her feet into the ground, mustering her strength, the teen cleared her mind by force and acted on instinct. An airborne rather was vulnerable, no matter how good her balance was. Even mom.
Driven by the urgency of a brief window, Fable threw herself forward from the ground - a crouch becoming a sprint becoming a tackle.
~
Good girl! Once again, Fabs reacted with a quiet little "nnfh," her body buckling forward at the force of a charging teenager. On reflex, gene-mommy reached forward and grabbed -fiercely-, holding on tight and considering what her next move would be. She didn't want to fall back on another throw...
~
Fable might have realized that she was at a severe disadvantage grappling with a force of nature like Fabula Cavataio - but the legend she was was a distant awareness. This was her teacher and mother. Fable would show her what she could do.
Besides, past the first few moves, Fable fought more on instinct than discipline, and instinct wanted to ground things and ravage them with her steely little fists.
Hooking her arms around Fabula, Fable dug into thigh and backside and whatever she could... And lifted. "RrrrrAGH!" While she wasn't berserk or losing control, that part of get still gave her some strength when she let it. And it was loud! Lifting her mother just a few inches higher than she'd thought able, Fable tried to drive/slam her progenitor into the ground, aided by gravity.
~
Suddenly the ground was behind her head. Fabula grunted once more, doing a full-body flop in response to being violently reintroduced to the grass. In a fair universe, she would have been stunned by the force ofthe impact. This did not seem to be a fair universe.
In the space of a moment, Fabula brought her legs around in a helicopter motion, both to clear Fable out and to put her feet back on the ground. Carrying the velocity with her, she extended one leg as she placed the other foot on the turf and swept a quick kick at her crazy little scion. Kick, and...
With a bit more force than before, the busty Dathomiri followed up her sweeping kick with a Force-empowered jab towards her product's rib cage. The flames of her soul were practically flickering up to her throat, which was a little like the mystical version of "really good cardio."
~
The moment she got her target on her back, Fable was reinvigorated by a second wind - but didn't get the chance to satisfy her inner warmonger by pelting Fabula with punches, essentially thrown off by some fancy (i.e.skillful) kick nonsense.
Fable established her balance quickly, just in time to backstep a kick, then step back in fit what she figured was an opening. It wasn't. A second kick slammed info Fable's side, eliciting a sharp yelp of surprise from the teen as she was nearly sent sprawling by the Force behind it. Nearly. Fable wrapped her arm and the leg and... Collapsed?
The nimble girl wrapped herself around Fabula's leg like a snake and tried to twist her to the ground under threat of breaking a bone.
~
Well...-that- was a thing. Not one to be forced into a corner so easily, Fabula immediately hopped her other leg into the air and did indeed fall to the ground...after setting her heel on a direct collision course with her descendant's face. Hopefully she didn't hit too hard. It got a bit more difficult to judge how much power she was bringing to bear after she really started getting into a fight.
~
Alright, all she had to do was twist this way and pull that way and it should hurt without breaking anything hopefully and then she could-CLONK.
Fable wasn't aware that an Atomic Leg Drop was even a thing, but all the little Hulksters know that it's the most efficient way to deliver freedom via force in the Galaxy. Hit right on the side of her head head, Fable lost her grip and nearly her consciousness, now more pinned beneath that long leg than restraining it.
~
Holding that thigh trap for a few seconds, Fabula eventually smiled and removed her leg, rolling back onto her shoulders, then her hands. One slightly impressive slow backbend later, she was on her feet and offering a hand to Fable. "You're getting much better! I think I might have a headache." If voices could smile.
~
Fable took the hand up, rubbing the side of her head with a sheepish, but pleased, smile. "Thanks, mom. But I think my head might ache more than yours." She confessed with a smirk. She didn't take losing so hard, at least not against this foe. "Any tips?"
~
With a sideways expression on her face, Fabula crossed her arms under her bust and thought for a moment. "Hm...well, technique isn't really my area of expertise. If you're looking to improve your fundamentals, I'd suggest practicing with Lynn and her family."
But there was something she -could- help with. "As for how you're applying your advanced learning...speed is the thing you should be working on the most. Your strength is good, but your movements are sluggish. How are you focusing yourself to improve your body?" That question was...a bit vague. "Um...for example, I tend to consider my body a furnace. A meditative abstract tends to help most initiates."
~
Fable crossed her arms in the exact same way, mimicking Fabula. "I... Don't, really." She admitted, hip cocked slightly to the side. "I know it sounds kinda dumb, but, like... When I'm fighting, I don't think much. And when I'm training, it's the same way. I blank out. The, um, angry part of me knows how it likes to fight, so I just kind of go with it?" She 'explained'. "Usually, I just run and practice on the bag for training, so I guess that's what I'm investing into speed."
~
"Well then, we'll work on that first," Fabs responded with a soft smile. "It really does help to have something to envision. Your mind shapes reality, and your body is much easier to shape than the world around it. If you can shape your body within your mind, the Force will accomodate it."
Stopping to consider for a moment, she tapped her forehead as if physically signalling that she had an idea. "Try imagining a flame. Its color, its height, its surface area...three different facets of yourself."
~
Fable nodded and took a breath, letting her arms fall to her sides. "A flame." She echoed, trying her best - earnest though she was, Fable wasn't particularly clever or imaginative when it didn't come to fighting. "First thing that comes to mind. Flame. Umm. Small and orange? Like a candle. Flickery." She explained, eyes closed.
~
Stepping forward, Fabula placed a hand on the girl's forehead. "Good. Now, that flame is you. A strong fire burns brighter. A fire that spreads to a large area is hard to put out. Each aspect of this little candle flicker you've described is yours to shape how you desire...just as your body is. Just as the Force within you is."
~
Fable nodded, swallowing and trying to keep this metaphoric lesson in her mind. "The flame is me." She echoed, wondering if she should have chosen a more formidable, suitably awesome fire to impress... Well, mom likely wouldn't have cared either way. Still, a candle? Lame, lame, lame. Suits you well, idiot.
~
Her smile almost impish, Fabula leaned in closer. "Not very big, is it? Well...let's fix that." Moving her hands to either shoulder, she gripped firmly and exhaled. "Make the flame roar. Make it stronger, blazing into the darkness of the world around you. From a single flicker to a warm fire...feel the heat of it spread into your arms. Your legs. Your whole body. The warmth of the Force spreading within you."
~
The darkness of the world?
...ALL of it?
From that little candle?
Fable wasn't sure what to make of that, considering that she had never particularly viewed the Galaxy a very metaphorically dark place. Yes, the lab that she'd been cultivated and groomed in - for isolation cubes, rapid-fire education programming and watching her vat-siblings fall to genetic flaws and madness cannot be a place one is reasonably 'born and raised' to - was an irredeemably evil place, but a good portion of Fable would always view herself as having earned it. Or, at the least, deserving of no better. By comparison, the Galaxy outside those miserable little basements was a beautiful, wonderful place.
The Galaxy wasn't dark and full of terrors. Fable was. She was the unwanted speck of horrible in an otherwise delightful reality. Stupid, useless girl. Experiments go into the incinerator when they have fulfilled their purpose, they don't go off pretending to be real people. They don't drag down actual lives with the nonsense-fuelled gibberish of their half-selves.
It was suddenly very easy to picture that stupid little candle growing into an inferno. Fire was the perfect image, because all it did was ruin everything until consuming itself. Nobody was happy to see a fire, unless they were dying of cold. Fable glared down at the ground, morbidly picturing an endless conflagration of lurid orange and red - The flame hadn't been tiny to begin with, after all.
She'd just been distancing herself from it. That didn't change the reality of the thing.
~
There was a tangible thrum in the air. Fabula's sensory abilities were borderline stunted and even she could feel it. Whatever Fable had done had definitely had an effect. But the glare on her face? -That- told her that it probably wasn't the most pleasant of effects. "Fable? I'm here with you. Warm me, but please don't burn me."
~
Whif.
Whatever she'd been doing, it was gone quicker than it'd come. Fable swallowed hard, noting the bitter taste of ozone, like she'd been standing too close to an electric shield generator. Ozone? No, stupid. Blood. Don't mistake an animal's fury for something badass, especially if you're only fooling yourself. "Sorry. I'll try again." Fable promised, closing her-noleavethoseopen. Yes.
Open eyes. The world is better to look at than whatever is going in in your head. The world has mom in it. The world has love, and sunlight and other wonderful things. Warm things. Be like them. Warm, powerful, ubiquitous. Stoic.
Fable pictured a flame again, though without much resolve. It was just a facade for concentrating and focusing herself, which is what she did. Focus, feel that lump of power buried under all that fear, and hold it in your hands. Make it your own.
