Private Twisting Shadows

[Adron Malvern]

Location: Illyria ~ Azurine Royal Palace ~ Training Room
Tag: Srina Talon
Wearing: Pristine white Echani dueling cloths
Thoughts: "Why has it been so long?"

There were few moments in his day to day routine that Adron could say was relaxing. Many of his mornings began with a brief from the Chancelière, updating him of the subtle climate changes in the High Court. Following that meeting he would usually spend an all too brief late morning with his beloved wife. Sometimes it was a bit of pleasant conversation or something dangerously more pleasuring. If the duties of the Exarch did not call from his homeworld then the day would proceed with a myriad of appointments and borish meetings to settle stately affairs. The day began early and more often than not it ended late. Gone were the days of old when the Illyria Kings spent their evenings whoring themselves out to the young women of the court and filling their bellies with every shiny wine that passed over their desk. No, Adron took his position as King seriously, every moment awake was dedicated to the betterment of a world where his children could grow and enjoy in peace. Whatever peace he could rip from the very fibers of the galaxy would do.

Still, his schedule often allowed for moments of enjoyment. Sometimes it would be something as simple as going with Alessandra to take a walk in the gardens, carrying Aries and pretending as if the world outside of Illyria did not exist for a bit of time. Now that the young Prince was getting older, travel was becoming a bit more possible as a family, something that filled Adron's heart with a warmth that often led him speechless.

There was one other appointment that the King appreciated. It was something built purely on a whim when he had been speaking to his counterpart, Srina.

Come to Illyria and fight with me. Like the days when we first met, I'd very much enjoy the test of my strength.

The invitation had been extended and every month since, the beautiful woman had arrived on Illyria around the same time so that the two could enjoy each other's company. They enjoyed it in an intimate way that only Srina could appreciate as much as Adron. No, it was easy to say she felt through that intimacy even more than any conversation they had ever had.

This day had been one of their better days. They had been at it for nearly an hour before even the first bulb of sweat bled from their brow. Srina almost seemed to blend into the pale white of her cloth sparring uniform, where Adron's raven hair was a pure contrast to the pristine white. Srina had only just knocked Adron back. The King was terribly distracted this day and it bled through his fighting form. It was not the only thing to bleed from his fists to hers. His mind was filled with appointments and routine that caused his fighting style to turn into a pattern that matched strength and speed. His heart was filled with a certain happiness from just seeing Aries laugh and play that morning, this made his grapples more lively and filled with vigor. Yet, he'd also been disappointed by the fumblings of one of his Officials, this made his strikes deadly precise and unforgiving.

These were the sweet whispers of war that only the Echani could hear. From the moment the Echani General had trained the man in his early years with the Empire Adron had been knowledgeable of this. Perhaps that was one reason he was able to truly enjoy fighting his closest friend, because like his wife she was one of the very few who understood him. He didn't care to speak, use words. Instead he charged for Srina, his fist aimed for a precise strike for the center of her chest. His eyes narrowed and the beating of his heart sped up, and he tried his hardest to feel her through her moves as she did him.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Illyria ~ Azurine Royal Palace ~ Training Room
Tag: Adron Malvern
Wearing: Ivory Training Gear
Quote: "She's fire and ice. Fear the cold; Crave the burn."

______________________________________________

And I can almost see
It's fading away
The strength to carry us home
I promise I'll stay
It's such a beautiful lie
Tomorrow can wait
______________________________________________​

She had promised to visit Adron and his family on Illyria.

True to form—Srina kept her word. The lonely trip from Geonosis to the Kingdom that her friend had forged through an accident that had nearly claimed his life was a much-needed moment of respite. She could feel the weight of being an Exarch that lived primarily in the capital pressing down like a heavy burden she was only barely capable of holding upright. Her Master was oft busy with his offspring or the hell-bound beast that he seemed intent on making his mate.

Srina could only imply discretely that Elyria was a disaster waiting to happen so many times before things got interesting. She’d arrived the night before and had spent much of the evening wandering the quiet streets. People watching. The truth of a ruler could be found with their unfortunate. With their poor. When the lowest among society were treated with dignity and respect it tended to bode well for those above them. The wintry woman had spent time in a shop that sold paper books.

Who even knew books were made of paper anymore? Not strictly offered on datapads or docs?

The early hours of the morning found her sharing a quiet holo-call with someone she wasn’t always sure how to address. Darth Empyrean had become important to her. With her quiet vow to cease in running away she felt the need to let him know when she traveled and where. He was free to handle his own business, especially, that which involved Dorian Harper. The other side of his life was one she did not come close to. There was something unsettling about seeing him wearing such a mask.

A handsome—Blatant lie.

It offended everything in her. Srina had resolved to try and tolerate it as a necessary evil for the prosperity of what was important to the Sith she felt fond toward. It was a strange feeling. To regard someone with anticipation versus suspicion and dread. Regardless, she kept her word. She did not run. Even when it felt like she should.

By the time a very polite woman brought her breakfast in her quarters the Exarch was already ready to begin her day. Sleep had not come, but, that was now the norm. With the Confederacy being under nigh constant threat of attack after their stance in placing themselves first came to light she had long since learned to stop closing her eyes. Even a second was much too long. She was bothered by all of it. Furious. How could such a disorganized group cause Ryloth and Olanet to go dark?

How could they have failed that badly?

How could she have failed that badly?​

With everything that ran through her mind with the strength of a hurricane, more than anything, she welcomed the chance to fight her friend once again. The way Adron moved, sinuous and decisive, was a familiarity that brought stability to a state of chaos. He did not need to ask of her thoughts. He did not need to know the turmoil that boiled just beneath the flimsy surface of her skin. The darkness that pulled corruption from the depths of her core and turned silver orbs to frightening gold.

He knew it all.

Every time Srina threw a punch in his direction, the move was calculated, but moreover made direct statements. It was a well of emotion. The struggle, the fear, and the anger that she held toward the Agents of Chaos would roll forward and carry her attacks through. Her pain existed as a living, breathing creature, that lingered in the wake of her grace. It was a fire that burned without containment. She could become unchained; she could fight. They could dance, twisting and turning to the notes of a song only they could hear. It was the basis of what it was to be Echani.

Srina was grateful that Adron was willing to share it with her.

Bare feet found their purchase and balance whilst his disappointment lanced into her through the pointed strikes and jabs, he made in her direction. She countered more often than not rather than attacking outright. It was a sign of acceptance and comfort. An act that would allow him to fight as hard as he wished, but, with a silent promise that the dance would never stop. Perfect poise, perfect truth, perfect trust.

As the King charged at her she remained motionless, though, her muscles were coiled in preparation for a sudden required movement. Srina had long ago learned to recognize his patterns and anticipate his movements. Echani eyes were keen. It was rare that he could surprise her. Rather than to try and step to the side in a way he might expect, she waited, until the very last moment to deflect the strike. She kept her wrist in horizontal alignment with her shoulder. If the hand she intended to deflect with was too far inside or outside with a more powerful opponent—She would lose the advantage.

The young woman stepped back, torso angling so that the strike should keep following through without actually impacting with her body. His momentum would carry him forward easily enough so that she could slide her left arm over his forearm. Her arm wrapped surprisingly tightly around his, trapping him, between her upper arm and torso. Adron would feel the strength that was hidden in such a small form when a delicate right hand snapped to the shoulder of the same arm—and pressed down viciously into an attempted armlock designed to hyperextend his elbow and shoulder.

Regardless of her skill, they were still standing. On the ground? It would have been far easier to maintain control. It made the attack difficult to maintain and Srina knew that he would eventually power through. What would have been a successful joint-lock would be countered and the young woman would be forced to shift to adjust while they grappled. Srina would turn, this way and that, deflecting and engaging—twisting like a ribbon in the wind to avoid getting fully caught.

Instead of trying to catch him; she always let him try to catch her.

Try.

 

[Adron Malvern]

It made him unyieldingly mad. The rage that flooded his body was off-setting for the Sith Lord. Even as a Master in the art of harbingering your emotions and transferring it into the purest form of the Dark Side....it was pain. He was growing sickeningly tired of this pain. The pain he'd felt since childhood. Not something so simple as loss. No, when someone was lost from you they left a void, a hole that could never heal properly. This was different. When someone you loved was torn from your very life it left a scar, a scar that over the years would only grow and fester to the point of impossible pain. That was the pain that lingered in the subtle movements of Srina Talon.

Adron's strike had been anticipated by his partner. He watched as her arms coiled around his, moving so fast that he was only able to follow through with his momentum. He brought himself short, just short enough that she would not be able to carry the maneuver to a takedown. His eyes glanced back at the woman when she led him forward, pushing his torso to put stress on the arm. He tightened the muscles in between his shoulder, down his arm as he braced a single leg in front of him. They locked there for that moment. He could have followed the maneuver through, instead he paused. The man breathed out, flexinging his muscles against the woman while she held him in the reach.

His eyes glanced over Srina's leg, exhaling softly once more before flexing back, as if trying to break out of the arm lock. Of course, it was futile. Srina was strong for her size, so when Adron reared up to break her lock he was met with nothing more than a path to exhaustion. So he paused, relaxing his muscles a bit while clenching his right hand into a tight fist. He eyed the woman's knee before striking. He breathed out, bracing himself against his leg while he slammed the palm of his hand against the side of Srina's knee. He breathed, striking again and again hoping to weaken the Echani's leg, making a release all the more possible. He watched, striking again and again, waiting for any sign of a fault.

Srina Talon

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Illyria ~ Azurine Royal Palace ~ Training Room
Tag: Adron Malvern
Wearing: Ivory Training Gear
Quote: "She's fire and ice. Fear the cold; Crave the burn."

______________________________________________

And I can almost see
It's fading away
The strength to carry us home
I promise I'll stay
It's such a beautiful lie
Tomorrow can wait
______________________________________________​

His anger carried itself to her like a heated song, burning, while his every step began to allude to what may come next. There was no precision in giving into the flame. No sense of understanding how the very air moved and the ground beneath their feet was only a temporary hurdle. A true battle came in from all angles. Nothing was sacred. Nothing was safe. They didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.

Srina knew his pain.

She had grown up a beloved child; and it clashed desperately with the nigh orphaned former Noble of Serenno. It explained clearly the depths of how the loss of his former home had changed him. How the trials of a King would further shape him, mold him, into something new. The role of an Exarch had prepared him. He would be ready. But even when he felt, in the dark of night, with his lovely wife in his arms—He would feel it.

Fear.

He would ever admit it. Srina would never ask him to. It was human weakness that pulled at their core regardless of their footprints that were steeped in corruption. They would always hold the things they cherished close. It would always hurt them when something, or someone, tried to hurt them or take them away. She knew his pain. She knew his fear. She knew what lay beneath his surface because it was also hidden within her. Deeply, buried.

Her grip tightened on his wrist to keep him from pulling out of the lock too soon. The alabaster woman was stronger than she looked, however, he would always overpower her physically in the end without some application of the Force. She could stretch his muscles until ligaments pulled and ached from the pressure exuded by exploiting pressure points. But, pure, brute strength?

It was only natural that he would win that fight.

Srina increased the pressure and twisted back further. Gravity alone should make his elbow scream but she added an additional note of potential agony by refusing to give any ground while she aimed to cinch the armbar. He was her friend. She cared for him. Yet, he knew what it was to challenge her. He knew he would feel it for the next week without some sort of divine intervention. Every time he tried to rear up to break free the Echani pushed down harder. The move would have locked fully, should have, were it not for the fact that he started taking a new tactic.

A sharp blow to the side of her knee caused her nails to dig into his skin. Unsurprised—But unwilling to let go of the slight upper hand just yet. She pressed harder, wrenching his arm to the point where he would feel it in his pectorals until the risk versus reward became too great. He knew her too well. Knew that her strengths lay in speed and sought to cripple her. He would fight her just as viciously.

As well he should. Neither liked to lose. Though, this conversation had only just begun.

Srina unfolded from the lock but kept her hand tight around his wrist. Her body twisted and spun beneath his arm while she raised it over her head, turning it still so that her momentum-driven elbow would aim for his solar plexus while her back briefly faced his chest. That same arm that had driven backward into his abdominal wall like a steel beam shot up in a fist with the intent of catching him beneath the chin. A quick offensive, though, none-the-less effective. Her goal was to keep him off balance while her knee burned from the assault. Normally, she might have gone for his legs, but her own needed a breather. Maintain control. Recover. Assault a new. Focus on known insufficiencies. Nerve clusters.

The Echani woman seemed to move as fluid as the water did flow…

But that knee. She wasn’t as smooth as it could have been. Not after taking a beating. She didn’t want him to see that it hurt, even though he knew, her pride would keep it in check. He wouldn’t see her wince. Cry. Nurse the injury. He would see her shake it off. Shake it off—And use that vice-like grip she had on his wrist just a little bit longer. As she spun out again, yanking his arm the other way, she pushed off with her good leg and tucked in, turning his arm, as she curled into a tumble. Hopefully, her weight would pull him down to the ground too.

Srina needed off her knee. He had seen to that, yet, if he didn’t follow her movements or comprehend how to move into her fall it was possible that he would dislocate his shoulder while she still held the grapple.

Surely, he knew better.

A risk. Yes. It still bought time.