Greetings II [18+]

Posted on 23 Mar 2013 @ 10:36pm by Crewman Athlen & Crewman Jaeih

1,868 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Holodeck 2
Timeline: MD4 0820 Hours

[ON]

He felt a pleasant hum in his chest rise, but he kept glancing at her. Her mind felt.. like a burn. Simmering. Adrenaline. Agitation, irritation, anger, rage, they were all part of sen shenmiaraike. At least, that was what Rigelians called it. The Inward Tsunami. The raging water. Feelings he knew almost as though he felt them himself. His own mind was its usual whorl of random feelings, pinging against his skull, thoughtfully placed aside to focus on what was in front of him. "You are angry. But you don't want words." He knew that well. On Rigel V, these situations were commonplace. "If you would like, I will offer you the formal challenge of t'an dera. I will make a note here on the computer. We'll go to the holodeck. And fight. Starfleet sanctioned. I am Rigelian. It is part of the subsection on Rigelian admittance to Starfleet."

Unblinking, she watched him, listening to the thoughts pouring stream of consciousness and unguarded through the forefront of his mind. "You're very accommodating." She curved her fingers, dragging her nails lightly over his skin to dig into his hairline. "How can you be sure I'll follow your rules?"

"It's a fight," Athlen said, head tilted. "If you knock me unconscious, the fight is over. And vice versa. Or, if you call t'an ser va'l while having me into a position to kill, then you get the execution point and win. I can also do this, but as the recipient fighter, it would defeat the purpose. So we will fight until you do not feel angry anymore. Or until you field me the execution point. Furthermore, to kill me or permanently injure me in reality, would be very bad for you. So, I hope that you would not break the rules. If you do, then I will be dead, and you will have some trouble." He entered the official request into the proper form and submitted it. Official t'an dera challenge - Cn. Athlen, Cn. Jaeih. Send. He looked up at her. "The holodeck is this way." He gestured at the door, still sitting patiently.

"Your death would not solve a single one of my problems, cousin;" she hooked her fingers into his collar and tugged him to his feet, twisting the cloth in her fingers to press her knuckles against his throat. Such a promise, made to their faithful hound Faevren though... That one she knew she could not keep. Betraying the Empire, failing the Empire - these were faults of character punishable by death. But if this man was willing to take the reckoning of his source, she would accept that generosity for what it was. There was no reason not to. She released his collar, carefully smoothing it back into line with her fingertips. "Lead the way."

Athlen spread his hands in a gesture of peace and lead them down the guided halls and into the holodeck. The doors opened to reveal their usual grid pattern and he replicated nothing, their uniforms were good enough to fight in, they had been designed that way. He stood back a respectable distance from her, and put two fingers to his chest in the readying motion when she had taken the opposite stance. He thrust his hand out forward and feel into an immediate sidestep, rushing her and aiming for her right foot. He swept forward and then back down hard, in an attempt to dislodge. He also brought his arm up to her head, elbow poised to strike and send her to the ground.

In the course of Romulan history, Jaeih was not a remarkable warrior. She preferred to loop around direct physical confrontations whenever possible because, quite frankly, stabbing someone in the back when they weren't expecting it was easier. That said, no Romulan went untrained and she had done her fair share of time in the Galae. She took her hits, arms up over her head, and let him shove her down. It was only when he was off-balance for those few seconds after he'd shoved her that her arms and legs snapped out. Legs catching at his ankles, hands gripping and pulling him down with her, snarling.

Athlen moved quickly, angling his leg between hers and flipping her over in a combination move of feet, and maneuvering his arm to compensate the rest of her weight at her shoulders. He rolled over and off of her, popping up into a rotating stance, feet moving swiftly, hands in loose fists. First one direction, then the other, waiting for her.

Five years, perhaps even two years before, she might have rolled gracefully to her feet and plotted a new course. But Jaeih was in the present and she wasn't looking to win. She was looking for flesh, gore, and something to sate the fury that burned in her. Catapulting up from the ground, she ran two steps and, at the last minute, dove at his feet, wrapping her arms tight around the one foot she could grasp and refusing to let go, her teeth closing on the meat of his calf.

Athlen kicked her off with a well placed heel to the neck, of his other foot grunting in pain at the sharp bite. He could feel the bloodlust pouring from her and gripped her collar, hauling her to her feet in a display of his own strength. He decided he would end the sparring session and settled for ramming an elbow straight into her face. He used the momentum of her stumbling back to grab her arms, hoist her up over his back, over his head in a somersault and slam her back down onto the ground. He landed beside her and tried to roll away before she regained momentum.

Stars. Supernovas. In her eyes. Head. Heart. She'd turned her face in time to protect her nose, but her ears jangled the many spirited bells of a coming of age ceremony and rushed with all the tumult of the river Fethraei. She spat blood as she landed, winded by the throw. She didn't need air. Nor did she need momentum, since he was there, right there, and all she needed was to twist enough to wrap around his middle and hold there, coiling herself tight around the base of his lungs like a snake.

The Rigelian wasted no time. He immediately snapped his head back sharply, using the full strength of his cranium to knock into her in a fierce headbutt. He twisted his arm around and gripped her forearms, scratching long nails down her arm before angling his hand up, just so, taking her wrist and twisting it back, bending her fingers backwards, using the neuropressure technique Liyar had taught him from this position. The pain would rocket forward up her arm and then he could - he got a leg under him and threw her off with the force of standing to his feet. There was smatters of blood on his clothes now, hers or his, he wasn't sure. He grabbed her forearm and hauled her to her feet, backing off into a heavy roundhouse kick aimed to her jaw.

A scream tore free of her throat as pain ricocheted through her arm and she stumbled back in time to see his heel coming towards her head. Catching him at the ankle and knee, she charged under his leg and tore it with her in the opposite direction of his momentum.

Athlen had a ghostly, bizarre smile on his features as he was dragged down, seeing in a haze of green. He still had his wits about him, though. This wasn't his Rage, but he could help. He could provide an outlet. This was pure and simple savagery, and as civilized as Vulcanoids claimed to be, it was their Heart. Catharsis was a daily thing on Rigel V, and he was well trained. He felt himself bounce off the deck hard and he tucked himself over, rolling just out of the way of a well-aimed punch. He flipped himself back up to his feet, and now his blood joined the mix as he felt nails clipping his throat as she jumped at him again. He got some space between them and began blocking her blows, they were coming faster now, an exchange between them as old as time itself. He ducked under and aimed another punch at her jaw, kicking her foot back and blocking again, opening up her shoulder to place another hit at her collarbone.

It connected, blinding her, but she caught his foot and wound her arms around it again as she fell. On the ground, she collapsed nearly prone but for the muscles locked vice-like around his lower leg.

He knelt over, emitting a noise on a sharp inhale, in what might have been tears of pain in any other species. But he wasn't going to give up yet. He felt himself go down and hit the deck hard, felt wet at his forehead where blood dropped in rivulets. He turned his body around, looking at her from behind, and cracked his elbow out, hoping to catch her and avoid being pinned.

"Ungh," she grunted as his elbow connected with her hip bone. She held on tighter, dark green blood dripping into her eyes and down her chin; what had begun as an audible admission of pain doubled, then tripled, in her lungs and throat until she was screaming endlessly. Power built from the scream, from the outpouring of rage and she made one final kick with all her might.

Athlen ducked, whirled on his feet behind her, and slammed his foot into her lower back, he braced his forearm against the top part of her back and released her, sending her hurtling forward with her own momentum and his added strength straight toward the wall as her screams echoed through the room. A dull thud resonated as she impacted and slid down to the floor.

She lay crumpled and oozing jade against the corner where floor met wall. Her screams had died when she'd made contact, softening into sharp gasps vacillating between pain and fury.

Athlen knelt down and placed a hand at her neck. "T'an ser va'l," he spoke softly, ears drawn back. He hadn't expected to need to field the point at all, but he'd quickly determined that if he didn't, she would have fought herself right into sickbay. He blinked blood out of his eye and regarded her calmly, breathing in deeply, down to his core, and letting it go. Setting an example. His own face and neck and exposed skin were covered in quickly yellowing bruises, although he showed no outward sign of pain, except for the inhaled noise which he focused on Not Doing, not wanting to appear weak. Which was ironic, considering he was still standing, and she was crumpled on the floor, but cultural habits were hard-ingrained. Pain, work through it. Pain was pain.

[OFF]

Crewman Athlen
Sociologist, SSC
USS Galileo

Crewman Jaeih
Diplomatic Officer, DDT/SDD
USS Galileo

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