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It's On Again [Jezebella]

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  • It's On Again [Jezebella]

    The last of his belongings was sorted within the chamber, nothing too elaborate mostly his personal effects and clothing. With everything in it’s place, he needed a new distraction. Often he poured over the list of Masters, pondering who to approach. He’d already met two individuals on the list, and at least had that going for him towards making a decision while the rest were blind choices. In the meantime, he knew he needed something to replace his lost sword, and he had just the idea of who to approach for that. Alastair stepped into the hall, sparing a glance in both directions to reorient himself before turning right. It was a quick jaunt to Jezebella’s room. He paused just outside of it to scribble a quick note: ‘Round 2? Training Grounds if interested.’ He posted the note on her door and went on his way to wait, for what he knew could be a long period.

    He data pad he had been provided by Jezebella gave him the necessary directions for where to go, so the trip was a short one with no detours. Once there, he moved confidently enough past a Master and Apprentice sparring and moved towards a bench at another section of training grounds. There he stretched out across it, one leg settle on the ground but the other planted on the bench with a knee drawn up. Grey pants disappeared into a pair of deep brown boots that came up towards the knee. His black long sleeve beneath sat in a state of disarray unexpected for an individual of his mediocre standing from Serenno, untucked and with the ties at the neck undone to be worn more casually. Atop that he wore a black jacket, left open with the top corners folded back.

    A book was withdrawn to peruse while he waited, a single handed grip bringing his thumb through the opening as he resumed where he left off with his middle and index finger cradling the front and back respectively. His eyes briefly darted over the page to the sparring pair, appraising their movements with a brush of his free hand to his scratchy jaw line, before dipping his emerald eyes back down to the words splashed across the page.

  • #2
    Boots scuffed against the marble floor as Jezebella stepped up before the door leading into her personal chamber. Gloved fingers lifted, taking hold of the piece of parchment fastened to the panel of metal, snapping it free and lofting it before her amber eyes. The quickly scrawled note was easily discerned of its origins and prompted a faint smile from the Sith Master, who crumbled the paper and thrust it between the fabric of her bodysuit and the thick band of her utility belt. She forewent entering her room, already suitably dressed for the location of their second meeting, and pivoted sharply to head toward the training grounds.

    Dust stirred as her imperious steps carried her across the grounds, her gaze briefly diverting from the purpose of her presence toward the master and apprentice currently training in the same vicinity. The slitted glare was abrupt but delivered her message without flaw, the pair making a hasty exit as she came to stand before Alastair Kade. One hand came to pose upon the curve of her hip while the other drifted up, her index finger flicking the back of the book he perused intently. "I hadn't pegged you for a lover of fiction, Alastair Kade." She stated, slanting a smile down at him. "Here I am, then. What would you have of me?"

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    • #3
      Alastair was aware another individual joined the training room, but he was intent on finding a stopping point before peering up, in the event it was not Jezebella. It was timed well. Her finger thunked the back of the book, which would have disrupted his place, and his eyes peered upwards to meet with her stare. His wrist craned inwards, turning the cover of the book up and letting his emerald gaze set onto the matching book cover with gold scrawled into the front panel. "Fiction is usually comprised of our more creative sides, and I find can be quite the adept source of inspiration." Meaning, fiction could give him ideas for his own personal life, that his own creativity might not have been able to come up with.

      The book was closed and set aside, dropping both feet to the ground and craning his head upwards to lock eyes. Her question prompted a thought he was surprised to have: what wouldn't he have of her? He knew his place presently better than that though, with her a Sith Master and himself a Disciple. In their first meeting he hadn't even perceived her in such a way, but the more comfortable he grew the easier it was to see beyond the intimidating aura. Still, he knew he needed to focus on himself rather than women, and so he did. "I find myself without a weapon, or means to defend myself should the need arise. I was hoping you could help with that."

      His hand pressed down into the arm of the bench, straightening his legs beneath him to raise to a stand and meet her stature. He finally noticed the other pairing was gone in peering over her shoulder, unaware of what prompted their sudden departure. A small horizontal movement of his eyes saw them back on Jezebella's steely gaze. "It was your turn, so I'll take that as your question. So are you Jezebella, or Razielle? I read the synopsis of both individuals in the list of Masters you gave me, and both names came from Dathomir. I was leaning towards Razielle, because of the mention of clawed weaponry and your display of elemental prowess." He confessed the mistake he didn't know, unabashed by the fact he might be wrong but keen to share his insight into how he came to the conclusion.

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      • #4
        "I see." She said at his explanation, her arms traveling up together to fold beneath her chest loosely. Jezebella observed as he set the book aside , their eyes locking after he had done so. He guarded his expressions like an adept gambler and while she was capable of reaching into his thoughts and plucking them up for herself, a rare sense of respect for the man prevented her from doing so. The purpose for her presence was soon revealed and she tilted her head ponderously. She had helped him before, giving him the datapad that would help him make his way around the grounds. Now, he had taken that as an in for him to ask more favors of her. Rather than scowl, as the train of thought might make others react, she slanted him a mysterious smile.

        Jezebella could respect and understand his need to arm himself. It was not wise, exploring different wings of the headquarters and especially the training grounds without adequate protection. She held her ground as he rose to a stand, beating her in height by several inches. Before she could offer up options for his weapon, he prompted a question that continued the game they'd started in the halls of the headquarters. A low chuckle left her lips and she rocked back on her heels, dropping her arms away from their crossed position and allowing her fingers to explore one of the three hilts suspended from her utility belt. "I am Jezebella. Razielle is my sister." She informed him, removing one of the saber hilts from its mooring and then holding it out in her palm.

        "Cinder should serve you well enough. She is balanced, quiet but powerful." She said, signifying the hilt with a nod. "I made her for myself when I was a warrior. Until you can make your own weapon, you may borrow this one." Jezebella announced, taking a few steps back if he desired to test the blade. Her second hilt was removed, the one hanging before the coiled lightwhip named Vyk'zlade, and she held it at the ready. "Have you reached a decision on who you'd like to train under?"

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        • #5
          His lips quirked upwards at the corner, drawing smile lines around them and at his eyes. "Finally, a name. Jezebella." He repeated it as if not doing so would prompt him to forget it. With that he also stowed the other name away as a close relation to the woman. Jezebella. Icarus. Antony. Dink. Sianna. Jack. Razielle All names he had learned in his two days on Munto Codru. Following the introduction and continuance of their game, she offered to him one of her lightsaber hilts. "Well, aren't you a veritable armory. I wasn't expecting one of your personal weapons, but I am grateful."

          He took it from her grasp, turning his hand over and opening his palm to lock his gaze upon the weapon. "Cinder. I will venture a guess the blade is red." His eyes left his new toy, moving to Jezebella's as he picked up on a conversational piece. "She. Interesting." He stepped a pace back, eyeing the hilt intently until he found the thing closest to an activation switch. He cautiously appraised the side he expected the blade to come from, before holding the weapon as a horizontal plane. The beam of red split the air, aimed across to the left. He leveled the weapon out into a two handed grip, the weapon humming it's own battle song with his movements.

          His eyes moved down to the secondary hilt, still attempting to find a comfortable grip upon the weapon. The movement was considered to be threatening, though he understood the potential reasons why. It didn't stop his instincts from flaring up into a defensive state. "I chose a name I was considering. Baska Tankreyd, I think. I would like to meet her." He saw fit to clarify something, making his own quick addendum. "I tossed around your name, but eventually decided I would prefer my Master not be my closest confidant so far. So...my turn."

          He kept his eyes affixed to her weapon, while pondering just what he would ask of her. "Why do you aid me?" He was curious her reasonings, because if nothing else it would speak to a strength he might have that he could utilize elsewhere and with others.

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          • #6
            "I have no intention of leaving you with an inferior weapon that will do more harm than good when you wield it. Cinder has perfect balance, power, and weight for a beginner." She explained further as he ignited the blade, watching the crimson glow light his features. He was no stranger to weapons, the grip he maintained on the hilt was supportive enough to suggest as much. Still, she was willing to bet something of the like had never been his weapon of choice and thus, it would take some getting used to.

            Jezebella's head canted somewhat to the side at his question, her lips forming a mirror of his smile with a devious twist. A hundred answers swarmed her mind, some of them easy to explain, others were not. Her thoughtful silence was interrupted as Tenebrous' black blade sprang forth from its berth. What appeared to be a single step closed the gap between them, Tenebrous and Cinder meeting with a loud crackle then hiss. She grinned at him through the 'v' created by their embracing blades. "One day, you will be a great Sith. I have no doubt. Then, you will repay the aid I've given you with interest."

            She pushed with mere strength alone, forcing the blades closer to him. "I very much look forward to that day, Alastair Kade. For now, show me what you already know of armed combat." She jumped back, resetting her stance and raising her lightsaber at a defensive angle.

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            • #7
              No question came, only a demand. He took his time though, testing how deftly he could handle the hilt. It was rotated, then rotated again within his palm. He swept it around, passing it from one hand to the other and then back. The hilt felt so familiar, the wrapping around the pommel very similar to the sword he had previously entered the Sith halls with. The core differences he noted were in the balance of the weapon, still lacking the feel of the metal blade and the way momentum might carry his strikes, and the hum that followed his every movement. He knew the only way to see how his skills would be effected would be to put it blade to blade, and feel how the luminescent core would stand against a similar blade.

              She advanced on him and applied her black blade to his red one, pressing in. The muscles of his forearms tensed as his grip did, ensuring neither blade strayed too close to him, but not making it a war of physical strength back into her. She spoke over the constant crackle of their embraced weapons, a flare of light constant at the point in which they connected. His right foot slid back to stabilize his footing while she spoke, until she pressed in then broke away with a last statement of her expectations.

              “With interest, hm? Very well, the concept is not a foreign one.” She instructed him on more than just the weapon, teaching him a valuable lesson to maintain for when he was in her position looking down on a Sith lower than himself. He came in quickly, a skip step the last to close the distance. His blade started high and to his right, sweeping downward diagonally towards her. The moment the strike met any resistance with a hard press, it bounced back off and rose upwards. A similar diagonal strike came from the high left to the same sort of region, aiming at the shoulder point. Resistance would be met with deft footwork that withdrew him, left side turned towards Jezebella with the red blade held horizontally. The hilt was kept level at his right shoulder, pointed towards her across his body.

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              • #8
                The Sith Master blocked each of his experimental attacks with ease, not pressing her own assault so that he could truly get a feel for the weapon she'd given him. He seemed to adapt quickly, each strike gaining speed and momentum. She did not retaliate in any way, however, content to let him continue to test himself against her defenses. "Good, yes. You don't hold back. That will be useful." She murmured over the crackle of their sabers, one foot dropping back as he withdrew from their clash and reset his position. The second hand she had applied to the hilt of Tenebrous was dropped to her side, relying now on a single handed grip to fend him off. It was not an act born from arrogance but one prompted by the urge to teach. However strong he became in lightsaber combat, the Force could be stronger when manipulated by the right individual. She awaited his next attack, her hand poised to halt his blade midstrike with that unseen power.

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                • #9
                  Her praise encouraged his next string of offensive. He started by extending both arms at her, driving his lightsaber forward through the air towards her. His weapon then swung upward and around, delivering a sweeping downward strike towards the woman. His arms retracted the way they had come, and the weapon reversed it's grip. In an underhanded hold, he swung his arm down heavily in a wide sweeping gesture of the weapon.

                  Rotating the weapon back to a standard grip, he spun a half circle, delivering a horizontal strike, then bounced back in the opposite direction to repeat the same motion. It all ended when he lifted himself from his feet and with the downward momentum of the gesture, he struck his weapon forward in a single lancing attack. From the constant pressure of his assault, sweat began to bead at his brow and dampen his hair from fine strands into segments adhering together.

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                  • #10
                    His blade pierced forward with all the precision of a Makashi affluent and she inched Tenebrous up so Cinder impacted the black blade's middle, swatting the strike to the side. He guided his weapon up and around, causing the Sith Master to shift her footing to better exhaust the momentum of the blow. Their weapons hissed at one another in two rapid bursts and then he reversed his grip on the hilt, causing her to loft a brow in a show of fascination. With as much promise as he showed as a mere Disciple, he would no doubt conquer even more advanced techniques with ease.

                    She stepped back as he spun a half circle, steering her blade around to intercept his once more. She rallied as he bounded back, her eyes dipping to the lightsaber he wielded to read his next move. Her hand lifted, a devious smile curving her lips. The blade sizzled in outrage as it impacted her palm, the energy dissipating and the hilt plunging closer to her hand; which glowed a blinding white from the emission of sheer power. The threatening hum of Tenebrous swerved close to his ear, close enough to douse the side of his face in heat. "Not bad at all. Never forget that the Force, the Dark Side, is a powerful ally, Alastair Kade. Far more powerful than any blade or the strength in our arms. Forget that and you will surely fall."

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                    • #11
                      For a moment Alastair was worried, his blade piercing into Jezebella's hand, he half expected it to come out the other end and run her straight through. Her devious smile never contorted to one of pain or outrage, only persisted in spite of it. He finally noticed the lack of the exit point, just as her onyx blade came up towards the side of his face. He instinctively leaned his face away before the weapon could burn away his hair and singe his face, the heat still ever a factor. With one defense and attack, she had won their present exchange.

                      Her point was well made, done so better with the actions then simply telling him. Alastair, never being the mystical and intangible sort, had an easier time understanding the power of the Force when presented with the very real display. He drew his lightsaber straight back, unsure of the restrictions to the ability she put forth and not wanting to cause damage because he withdrew inappropriately, then lowered the weapon to hold it down towards his side. "I'm not in the market for a premature death, my thanks for teaching me this lesson now rather than learning it the hard way at a later date." What would come of their meeting now, he was uncertain, but he did have a suggestion. "Perhaps, if you still have the time, you can allow me to work on my defense since I have gotten a workout in my offense."

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                      • #12
                        Jezebella watched the gravity of the lesson take its toll on his expression, her hand continuing to absorb the energy of his weapon as he held it in place. When he finally withdrew the blade, the bloom of light fizzled out of existence and she lowered her hand to her side. Tenebrous departed from its menacing position near his neck and she took a step backwards, aiming a grin toward him. She remembered a time, long ago, when she had first walked the halls of Sith Empire; when she believed that any foe could be undone by the expert turn of her blade. She had not learned her folly quite as easily as he might have.

                        "You're welcome." She stated in a sultry voice, bringing the hand she'd blocked with up to join the other on the hilt of her own saber; anticipating that their lesson was not so hastily concluded. She had a great many things she could still teach him. Yes, she thought with a salacious sweep of her tongue across her lips, many things. At his next request, she inclined her head in agreement and then allowed him to prepare an adequate defensive stance. Then, she struck. A culmination of speed, power, and lust emboldened the strike she executed; a single downward slash that caused their sabers to snarl loudly as they clashed. Rather than reset her position from there, however, she kept pushing; testing his grip and the strength of his arms, his will.

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                        • #13
                          There was something sinister and unexpected about the sly sweep of her tongue, his eyes narrowing off in thought but a brow drawn only slightly upwards as he contemplated the expression. He didn't take much time to over think it, for the moment she accepted his request he was setting himself to preparation. His left knee bent as he set his weight towards it, right leg more straight and at a further distance out behind him. His left side should have been turned to her, but the twist of his hips nearly squared his shoulders. Both hands grasped his lightsaber hilt at his hip line, holding it vertically with a slight tip angling the blade towards her.

                          He recognized the downward strike for a power strike, and brought the hilt upwards towards the right instead of left. It allowed his dominant right arm to be the focal point of his strength, the lightsaber turned to a horizontal plane. Their lightsabers snarled at each other as they impacted, and continued to wage a war of battle cries the longer they endured together. He could feel her not disengaging, forcing back, and he found himself surprised at her strength.

                          His arms raised as they were caused his sleeves to slip down towards his forearm, and it became evident the strength he put back into holding off her defense. His muscles tightened with their exertion into clearly defined cords along his arms. His head leaned back as every now and then her leverage pushed his blade towards him, but he managed to dig his shoulders beneath the blade and push back. His right hand maintained a strong grip at the core of the hilt, controlling the weapon and stabilizing it while the left provided just the necessary balance to keep it from tipping out of it's defensive placement.

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                          • #14
                            "Good..." She ground out through the effort she exerted trying to push him back. Her amber eyes dipped across his frame, taking in the stance he employed against her; the straining of the muscles in his arms, the solid anchorage of his legs, the horizontal angle of his lightsaber. Her eyes flicked back up to his. Then, she pressed forward with more ferocity than before. Her left leg struck out, her heel hooking around behind the support of his right knee while her own shift in stance plied her body weight to the conjunction of lightsabers. She pulled back with that ankle while leaning the right side of her body into him; destabilizing his stance and dropping him to the sand strewn ground.

                            Jezebella followed him down, sliding her foot out of harms way at the last second and fastening her toned thighs about his hips. Simultaneously, she batted Cinder from his hands and brought Tenebrous around, disengaging right before it was within range to cleave his head from his neck. That would simply be a waste. Breathing hard, she leaned over him further; her hair falling around him in a inky curtain. "Mmm.. yes. That. You should try to avoid letting someone do that in the future." She said sweetly, chuckling under her breath before she rose, stepping back and then offering him a hand.

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                            • #15
                              Their lightsabers continued to screech as they were pressed to the limits of force against each other, the black and red recirculating energy melding at that crossroads of blades into a brillaint corona surrounding the abyss of a crimson and black mass of light. The renewed vigor with which she pressed to overpower him, caused a shortsightedness that let her foot slip through. He did notice it, but not before it was too late. His right knee, the true crux of his stance being the more distant root, fell prey to her maneuver. It all collapsed beneath him.

                              His back bent painfully as she pressed and his legs attempted to maintain their ground. The unstable sand was likely all that stopped him from harming the ligaments in his knee, his foot popping out from beneath him and his form continuing to topple back. His grip faltered, a fear of harming himself with the weapon in his fall, and she dismissed it to fully disarm him while pouncing him like a predatory feline. His back struck first, wind pouring out of his lungs in a single gust, again grateful it was sand and not something more solid.

                              It made it difficult to enjoy the position, of which she was no doubt teasing him with. He breathed heavily, her black hair engulfing him and forcing everything around him out but her face. Chiding remarks ensued, and she peeled herself off of him. His wounded pride was the only thing that truly kept him from regreting her lifting himself off of him, instead relishing in the opportunity to take his feet again.

                              He did not take her hand though. As a man, he resolved to stand upon his own two feet, so long as he still had them to stand upon. He sat himself up first, knees drawing up from his fully prone position. His form twisted, reaching for his lightsaber and gathering to then hands and knees, and finally his legs pulled beneath him to take to his feet. He turned back to face her, finally prepared to make remarks to her comments. "It wasn't all that bad." He said first to destabilize what she might expect, before turning it all business once more. "A maneuver like that is something only the bold and skilled could perform. It was a gambit, one that paid off for you, but not something I expect to see often. Still I will now be better prepared for the unexpected."

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