[It's probably unwise, but she hadn't been hungry. She's been alternating between hitting a dummy with a practice sword and attacking her paperwork. Neither have had success in clearing her head.]
[Rather than send another message Henry pockets his phone and jumps straight into action. After putting together enough food for two, he makes his way to headquarters. Pushing open the front door, he glances around for Maketh. Once he spots her, he ensures that the door shuts behind him with his heel before he heads over to where she is.]
[If the practice dummy had blood and bones instead of straw, it would have been long dead by the time Maketh lowers her blade to face Henry. Instead it just stands there, bruised but ultimately unmoved. It ought to help, sweating and hitting things, but it only makes her angry. There's not much use in that. The situation cannot be changed. Only accepted.
Maketh rubs her face briefly.] I woke up and she was not beside me.
[It's all very matter-of-fact.]
I checked, of course. She's been removed from the network.
He knows the wound of loss and how slow it is to scab over. There may not be a magic cure, but holding back is hardly beneficial. However ugly an explosion of one's emotions is, it remains a release.
[That is only the truth. There's no use in denying it. Lilith was in control of her own destiny. The life she described on Pandora would never be an easy one, but it would belong entirely to her. The same cannot be said about Hadriel and it is foolishness, pure foolishness, to think otherwise.
Maketh swallows hard and turns the practice sword over in her hands.]
I'm no match for you. But I--I would like to fight. Please.
[She wants desperately to hurt something, either an enemy or herself. Henry is one of the few people here who won't let her do any real damage - not where it matters.]
[Henry sets the food down on the floor, off to the side -- it's wrapped up for travel so no harm will come to it -- and retrieves a practice blade of his own. While he wears his sword at his hip, and has used a sharp blade since his youth, fine steel meant for war would destroy a lesser blade, so it is best that he matches her.
He returns to Maketh and immediately slips into a ready stance.]
Edward would do this for me. Do not hold back; I can take it.
[He'll address her comment about Lilith once they begin. He intends to push her harder than he would in an ordinary spar -- if she will not let go by herself, then he can put enough pressure on her to force a degree of raw instinct, and, with luck, raw emotion.]
[It's said a little wistfully. A man like that, a true leader, would have been worth following. But that is besides the point.
Maketh doesn't bother shifting into stance before she lunges. She just attacks. It's better that way. More efficient. She's smaller than Henry, she can't get him through brute-force. Aggression and skill will have to carry her.
The Imperial style of swordsmanship is fast and brutal, and far from honorable. Maketh slashes at his face and attacks his knees in the same move. Break his center.
Her eyes might be blank, but her teeth are bared. Fight.]
[Henry steps off-side so that her sword misses his face and brings up his own blade to meet hers as it continues on its downward path, binding their swords before hers can connect with its intended target. He immediately applies pressure on her weapon, ready to make his next move. If she tries to escape the bind then he will capitalise and thrust straight at her shoulder (he intends to avoid strike at her head, in case she grows erratic at any point); if she holds fast then he will press forward and grab her with his free hand, perfectly willing to grapple.]
[Of course it doesn't land. He's better than her, always has been, likely always will. Maketh knows this. It's never made her angry before. Every soldier has their place and knows to stand in it when called and hers was never with a sword. So it goes.
Then he speaks, and--]
Do not--!
[She bites off a scream before it can escape.]
Don't tell me that. I know that!
[She tries swings again, this time for his arm. If he pins her blade, then she'll headbutt him. It's just nasty enough of a trick that he might not see it coming.]
[It gives Henry ample opportunity to land his thrust, but to her credit, Maketh continues on. He meets her sword again with an outwards stroke. The headbutt does come as a surprise from her, and he grunts, but if she hoped to stagger and daze him then she will be disappointed. A nice bruise may blossom there, but he is conditioned to withstand harder blows. Using her proximity and shift in balance, and utilising his greater strength, he grabs her and throws he to the floor.
He swiftly follows with a cut aimed at her.
The point is not to let up the pressure. The point is to get her to admit that she is not okay in the slightest, to feel the ugly things that would otherwise fester inside.]
The Door found her world more than once. It can find it again.
[The shock of it knocks the breathe from her lungs. Maketh retaliates with a kick aimed at his knees. Knock him back so she can twist and regain her footing. Never stay on the ground, never let them pin you.]
She is better off there.
[It comes out in a warning snarl. He ought to know this.]
[Henry hops back, avoiding the full brunt of her kick. It still gives her the ground she needs. Yet he quickly circles round as she rises and slashes at her from an angle much harder to defend against, aiming to land the blow before she is fully recovered.]
As are you. If the gateway is opened then there is a chance for you to slip through.
[She counters shakily, moving back to regain her center. The blow nearly knocks the blade from her hand. Her bad shoulder is starting to ache. It ought to be expected. Henry is as solid and continuous as his damn shield. Always there, always pressing. She'll never beat him fairly.
Then cheat, cadet. Win or die.
Fine. The next time he gets in close to attack, she's kicking him in the groin.
Maketh points her blade at him, furious. She's shaking with it.]
I have nothing but my duty! And you--! You make me forget!
[He can see the shake in her blade and knows that scorching anger well, though he has not seen it from this side before. That is what she needs to unleash. They are close now -- another push may do it.]
No. You remember that you are much more than the minister the Empire moulded.
[He presses forward aggressively, bring his sword down in a diagonal cut across the centre. He is ready to pull his blow if need be -- it is one of the first thing a swordsman learns to do.
The problem with training and fighting against predominantly men is that what she is planning never occurs to him as a possibility.]
[There are no words. This time Maketh just screams and counters, stepping in close for additional leverage.
Then, when she's close enough to see the look on his face - stupidly, infuriatingly calm - she does what she was taught in the Academy and knees him in the groin, hard.]
[One cannot defend against that which one does not anticipate, and this is a lesson in deplorable tactics that Henry won't soon forget.
It's an eye-watering blow. He instinctively reacts, hunching in with a pained, gasping inhale, clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. He manages to keep hold of his sword -- he is Hotspur, and nothing less -- and has enough presence of mind to rapidly drive a pommel blow to her solar plexus with enough force to wind her, but not so much that he will do real harm, before she follows through.
He cannot and will not lose control of the situation. It's the kind of mistake that has bad consequences. The responsibility is all on him; he won't fail her here.
Even if she tried to bring a premature end to his line.
Henry snarls a swear as he forces himself to swiftly straighten up, sword ready, swallowing back bile and ignoring the throbbing pain in so vulnerable a place. He forces his temper down. It was his mistake. It won't happen again.
They are not done yet. It doesn't work if the volatile emotion is only half-expelled.]
feelings are hard thus cause bodily harm to your friends?
[Now he's angry. Maketh bares her teeth, feeling a little thrill run up her spine even as she staggers back. The blow knocks the wind out of her, leaving her exposed, but he doesn't attack quickly enough to take advantage of it. Good. She's broken his calm, he's not giving her that fucking look anymore, like she's some animal to be reasoned with.
Fight to win. Glory to the Empire.
Maketh can still hear her instructor's voice, screaming through the practice hall. Do what you have to. Always and forever.
She lunges without a word, attacking his center, trying to force him back]
[Henry side-steps her lunge, grimacing at the ache of the movement but not allowing it to hamper him, and smoothly slashes a sweeping cut above her sword, immediately following up with a hard forward thrust. It is she who must fall back or be hit.]
[It's not what Henry expects Maketh to do, but that's because it's foolish, though realistically he knows that's not fair in her current frame of mind. The thrust lands, and he keeps his forward momentum going because it's in his advantage for them to collide -- he is larger and stronger. With his preference being sword and shield, even without a shield involved he knows how to bash. Which he does, turning in his shoulder and slamming bodily into her. He slides his front foot behind hers and kicks back his heel, looking to combine the loss of balance from his bash with the loss of footing and tumble her backwards.
If she is going to exhaust the worst of her feelings then the pressure on her must be kept up.]
[Down, down, down she goes. Henry does the expected thing - the soldier thing - and follows up. The blow smarts and for a moment she can't breathe. The world goes bright and sharp.
She's in trouble. He's too heavy to throw off.
Maketh drops her sword and makes to box his ears. It's petty and mean, but it often works.]
i'm not sure they should trust anyone in hadriel who offers it
[Henry grabs and throws her dropped sword away, then tosses his aside in the same direction -- they were done with swords the moment she decided running into them was a good idea -- then promptly gets his ears boxed. The pain is brief and sharp, reverberating in his skull, and leaves his ears ringing. But ultimately it's no worse than a hard blow to a helmet -- he jousts for fun -- and it's fairly low on his pain tolerance thanks to Kate's monster.
He winces, but grabs her wrists then forcibly smashes her hands against the floor.
He then gets off her, quickly rising back to his feet. He'll let her get back to her feet and come at him. He makes sure to keep himself between her and the weapons.
If she wants to hit flesh and bone then she can. He'll defend against blows to the face, throat and any low blows -- he is going to be bloody sore for days already -- and counter all dangerous strikes, but he doesn't particularly care about bruises and cuts. Her rage cannot be infinite.]
[Maketh yells when she's pinned, kicking furiously, and means to surge up and bite him - go for his throat, hurt him - but then Henry is moving, dancing away. Leaving her to regain her footing.
Going easy on her.
Fine. She'll just hit him until he's angry too. There was a moment earlier when his calm broke. Perversely, Maketh wants that again - wants to fight and hurt and perhaps bleed. She hasn't felt like this for a long time, perhaps ever, and there's a strange thrill in it that can't be blamed entirely on adrenaline.
She jumps to her feet, breathing hard, and attacks with a combination of low, short kicks.]
[Henry doesn't bother avoiding them -- unless one is wearing plate armour he finds kicks ineffectual, and even then he prefers using spurs to the back of the knee to cripple. Stomping is useful.
Maketh's kicks are not powerful enough to break his stance at any rate.
Their short length also means that he is in a position to elbow strike her in the sternum. He withholds his full strength.]
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I will be with you shortly. Have you eaten today?
[When he's worried for someone, he fusses. If she plans to drown herself in work, she should at least have proper sustenance to fuel it.]
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[It's probably unwise, but she hadn't been hungry. She's been alternating between hitting a dummy with a practice sword and attacking her paperwork. Neither have had success in clearing her head.]
action;
When discovered you her departure?
action forever
Maketh rubs her face briefly.] I woke up and she was not beside me.
[It's all very matter-of-fact.]
I checked, of course. She's been removed from the network.
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I am sorry, Maketh.
[Henry says lowly.
He knows the wound of loss and how slow it is to scab over. There may not be a magic cure, but holding back is hardly beneficial. However ugly an explosion of one's emotions is, it remains a release.
He nods at the battered dummy.]
A real person should provide a better purge.
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[That is only the truth. There's no use in denying it. Lilith was in control of her own destiny. The life she described on Pandora would never be an easy one, but it would belong entirely to her. The same cannot be said about Hadriel and it is foolishness, pure foolishness, to think otherwise.
Maketh swallows hard and turns the practice sword over in her hands.]
I'm no match for you. But I--I would like to fight. Please.
[She wants desperately to hurt something, either an enemy or herself. Henry is one of the few people here who won't let her do any real damage - not where it matters.]
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He returns to Maketh and immediately slips into a ready stance.]
Edward would do this for me. Do not hold back; I can take it.
[He'll address her comment about Lilith once they begin. He intends to push her harder than he would in an ordinary spar -- if she will not let go by herself, then he can put enough pressure on her to force a degree of raw instinct, and, with luck, raw emotion.]
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[It's said a little wistfully. A man like that, a true leader, would have been worth following. But that is besides the point.
Maketh doesn't bother shifting into stance before she lunges. She just attacks. It's better that way. More efficient. She's smaller than Henry, she can't get him through brute-force. Aggression and skill will have to carry her.
The Imperial style of swordsmanship is fast and brutal, and far from honorable. Maketh slashes at his face and attacks his knees in the same move. Break his center.
Her eyes might be blank, but her teeth are bared. Fight.]
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Lilith left you behind unwillingly.
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Then he speaks, and--]
Do not--!
[She bites off a scream before it can escape.]
Don't tell me that. I know that!
[She tries swings again, this time for his arm. If he pins her blade, then she'll headbutt him. It's just nasty enough of a trick that he might not see it coming.]
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He swiftly follows with a cut aimed at her.
The point is not to let up the pressure. The point is to get her to admit that she is not okay in the slightest, to feel the ugly things that would otherwise fester inside.]
The Door found her world more than once. It can find it again.
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She is better off there.
[It comes out in a warning snarl. He ought to know this.]
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As are you. If the gateway is opened then there is a chance for you to slip through.
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[She counters shakily, moving back to regain her center. The blow nearly knocks the blade from her hand. Her bad shoulder is starting to ache. It ought to be expected. Henry is as solid and continuous as his damn shield. Always there, always pressing. She'll never beat him fairly.
Then cheat, cadet. Win or die.
Fine. The next time he gets in close to attack, she's kicking him in the groin.
Maketh points her blade at him, furious. She's shaking with it.]
I have nothing but my duty! And you--! You make me forget!
maketh...
No. You remember that you are much more than the minister the Empire moulded.
[He presses forward aggressively, bring his sword down in a diagonal cut across the centre. He is ready to pull his blow if need be -- it is one of the first thing a swordsman learns to do.
The problem with training and fighting against predominantly men is that what she is planning never occurs to him as a possibility.]
She'll apologize for this later
Then, when she's close enough to see the look on his face - stupidly, infuriatingly calm - she does what she was taught in the Academy and knees him in the groin, hard.]
I shouldn't laugh, but
It's an eye-watering blow. He instinctively reacts, hunching in with a pained, gasping inhale, clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. He manages to keep hold of his sword -- he is Hotspur, and nothing less -- and has enough presence of mind to rapidly drive a pommel blow to her solar plexus with enough force to wind her, but not so much that he will do real harm, before she follows through.
He cannot and will not lose control of the situation. It's the kind of mistake that has bad consequences. The responsibility is all on him; he won't fail her here.
Even if she tried to bring a premature end to his line.
Henry snarls a swear as he forces himself to swiftly straighten up, sword ready, swallowing back bile and ignoring the throbbing pain in so vulnerable a place. He forces his temper down. It was his mistake. It won't happen again.
They are not done yet. It doesn't work if the volatile emotion is only half-expelled.]
feelings are hard thus cause bodily harm to your friends?
Fight to win. Glory to the Empire.
Maketh can still hear her instructor's voice, screaming through the practice hall. Do what you have to. Always and forever.
She lunges without a word, attacking his center, trying to force him back]
perfect adult reasoning
and these two are in charge of the guard
Fuck that. She can take the blow, Maketh thinks, and surges forward.]
I mean it works for him, so
If she is going to exhaust the worst of her feelings then the pressure on her must be kept up.]
these two need anger management. like now.
She's in trouble. He's too heavy to throw off.
Maketh drops her sword and makes to box his ears. It's petty and mean, but it often works.]
i'm not sure they should trust anyone in hadriel who offers it
He winces, but grabs her wrists then forcibly smashes her hands against the floor.
He then gets off her, quickly rising back to his feet. He'll let her get back to her feet and come at him. He makes sure to keep himself between her and the weapons.
If she wants to hit flesh and bone then she can. He'll defend against blows to the face, throat and any low blows -- he is going to be bloody sore for days already -- and counter all dangerous strikes, but he doesn't particularly care about bruises and cuts. Her rage cannot be infinite.]
....okay that's true
Going easy on her.
Fine. She'll just hit him until he's angry too. There was a moment earlier when his calm broke. Perversely, Maketh wants that again - wants to fight and hurt and perhaps bleed. She hasn't felt like this for a long time, perhaps ever, and there's a strange thrill in it that can't be blamed entirely on adrenaline.
She jumps to her feet, breathing hard, and attacks with a combination of low, short kicks.]
now imagine the attempts
Maketh's kicks are not powerful enough to break his stance at any rate.
Their short length also means that he is in a position to elbow strike her in the sternum. He withholds his full strength.]
that is...horrifying.
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