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 Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 2:21 pm
  Setting:On the run from some not so happy Lunarians, Kiran has an unfortunate run in with Van.
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Kazu-chan generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
1!
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 2:22 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 3:00 pm
He couldn't stop the small chuckle that escaped as he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the large bellied Lunarian stumbling over his short, stubby legs in an attempt to keep up with the lithe bodied Kiran. Admittedly, it was entirely his fault that he was now being chased through the streets of Lunarian. He didn't have to swipe that very expensive looking diamond ring right off the fat, rich man, but Kiran couldn't pass up the temptation. Watching said rich man trip over his feet and land face first in a puddle of muddy water that stained his fancy silk clothing was totally worth nearly get caught after his theft. The man's round face turned tomato red with rage as he shook a fist at the escaping thief, spit flying as he shouted out obscenities. Plenty of other Lunarians stopped to stare and laugh at the scene the man was making.
Kiran would have stopped to laugh as well, but he could see the rich man's lackeys already moving in the pounce on him, probably planning on giving him a good throttle before snatching back to the ring to return to their boss. A mischievous grin spread across his face as Kiran once again set off down the streets. He counted about four or five men trailing after him, trying to surround him so that he would have no escape route about be a sitting duck for them. He laughed at that very thought. The men were being far too obvious in their movements.
Kiran ducked down a narrow path off the main street then scaled up the wall and raced across the rooftop. Glancing back, he noticed three of the men turning down the path and grinned. He could see them standing there scratching their head in confusion over his disappearance. Folding his arms behind his head, Kiran whistled as he strolled from rooftop to rooftop, no longer bothered by the pursuit of the rich man and his lackeys. But, having lowered his guard, Kiran failed to note the one lackey that hadn't followed him down the narrow path.
The man appeared before Kiran out of nowhere and swiped at him with hard brass knuckles clutched in his fist. Kiran managed to duck just in time to avoid a nose breaking punch to the face. With that twisting dodge, however, his footing slipped on the rooftop. He fell, quite ungracefully from the rooftop and landed in a tangle of limbs on the street below it.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 3:28 pm
When things got stressful, it was time for retail therapy. Today, Van was in the Imperial City doing just that. It wasn’t often that she allowed herself to take a day off from missions or giving private martial arts lessons to those who were rich enough to pay for a personal tutor. In light of the numerous trying events that had just occurred in her new house, though, it was well deserved.
Both of her hands were full of shopping bags from the day’s excursion, each filled with some kind of colorful fabric, tubes of new makeup, and, hidden on her person, a handful of new knives to be brought out when needed. Indeed, Van was having a very good day, so much so that she didn’t even notice the ruckus that was occurring on the rooftops just above her head.
What happened next could be attributed to bad luck, or simply just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. As she was blithely taking a shortcut through a narrow street on her way to the next market, awareness... well, fell onto her from the sky. Caught in a tangle of limbs and shopping bags, Van tried to sit up, only to find that someone was literally sitting on her chest.
Sputtering in what could be called Van’s version of outrage, she craned her head up to get a better view of the idiot Lunarian who’d been trying to fly. In all her efforts she was able to notice a shock of light blue hair and... the face of one Kiran. Her expression soured visibly. From past experiences, she’d be willing to bet he’d done this on purpose too—running into her just so he’d be able to distract her while he pocketed something valuable. So, to the best of her ability, she shoved the other fighter off of her, following up with a backhand slap.
“Watch where you’re going!” she yelled, her patience with him nonexistent. Talk about déjà vu.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 5:22 pm
He grunted upon landing, a flash of heat enveloping him after being knocked so clumsily from his perch. He had let his victory of getting away with the diamond ring go to his head and paid the price for his big ego. After all the battles that he had fought, Kiran should know better than to let one small moment of accomplish go to his head. After all, it was usually in those moments when a fighter failed to notice a carefully laid trap by his opponent. He had made the mistake of thinking of those men as nothing more than oafish lackeys, the type that rich Lunarians hired to keep their wealth safe but were usually nothing but muscles lacking in brains.
He gave no attention to the poor Lunarian that he had landed on after his embarrassing tumble off the rooftop. The fire coiled inside him again, sickened at himself for having let that man best him in stealth. His attention was still focused on the eave of the rooftop, just catching the silhouette of the man that tried to punch him before he vanished beyond Kiran's vision. At that moment, he was rudely shoved off the person that had broken his fall.
If that wasn't enough to drive his attention away from the man that had just tried to attack him, the backhand slap brought his mind right back down to the streets. "Hey!" Kiran shouted in protest, rubbing his sore cheek after the stinging slap.
He cringed when he saw who it was that slapped him. After their last encounter, Kiran wasn't exactly thrilled to see Van again, and he certainly didn't want to let her know that his fall had been a pathetic accident. "Well, you did make a rather nice cushion," he said with an air of indifference, not caring one way or the other if he had hurt her when he fell on top of her. His knee was still healing up after that nasty cut that she gave it in their last battle. His eyes darted around the narrow street, but he saw no sign of the rich man's lackeys, who apparently had given up the chase for now.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 6:05 pm
Van was infuriated, her anger boiling ever higher the longer she stared at the man on the ground next to her. Even if he had apologized, the woman would have still been suspicious that he’d stolen something off of her person or from one of her shopping bags. He’d done it before, after all. Instead, now that he was talking to her with such indifference, she just wanted to punch him in the face. It appeared that their ill feelings toward each other were still intact from her last meeting.
She entirely misinterpreted his words about her being a nice cushion, and wondered whether he talked this way to all girls. If so, she was certainly justified in hating him the way she thought she did now. This earned him another shove—her hands connected with his shoulders to push him away from her. It was something of an unnecessary action; as much as she wanted to be as far away from the Noble as possible, she still had to come closer in order to shove him backwards.
He was just as thick-headed as the rest of the men she’d ever encountered. His indifference stung, not because it was personal, but because no man ever just looked away from her that way. That was just not how Van was used to being treated. “Hey!” she said, poking him with one sharp nail to get his attention, “Your fight is here!” As she said this, she realized that they hadn’t actually been fighting, save for a few useless shoves and (in Van’s mind) a well-deserved slap. So when Kiran turned to face her again, she decided to meet him with a punch to the chest.
It had begun. Kiran himself had showed no remorse, so that was no reason for Van to start.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 7:41 pm
A second shove drove Kiran back a step, his back meeting with the wall of the building behind him. Anger blinded him as he scowled at Van. Why did she have to pop back into his life at a moment like this? The lackeys may have backed off for now, but Kiran wouldn't put it past the one that had followed him onto the rooftop to be lying in wait for the next opportunity to get at him. Apparently, that man didn't want to get an innocent bystander, in this case Van, involved in the dispute. He was thankful that Van's presence at least drove the lackey away, but it seemed he hadn't completely escaped a situation that put him into a fight.
He was not about to apologize for what happened during their last encounter. It hadn't been his fault that Van misread a simple waving hand and instead interpreted it as an attempt to punch her. He knew it was his fault in this case for having fallen on her, but the petty feeling inside him made it impossible for him to issue an apology at this point in time.
"Haven't we already gone through this?" Kiran asked with a haughty grin of someone who thought a little too highly of himself. "Actually, I believe we've gone through twice already." He knew that comment was likely to hit a nerve, though he hadn't bothered to stop the words from leaving his mouth. It was a bad habit of his to often speak without thinking first.
The punch aimed at his chest suggested that the time for idle bickering was over. Kiran sidestepped, twisting out of the path of the punch. But only just barely, as her fist grazed his chest. He caught her arm his hand, keeping a firm grasp on it so that she could not immediately leap away from him. Yanking on the arm, he twisted into her, drawing up his knee toward her midsection.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:28 pm
As had been exhibited before, there were a handful of small things that caused Van to completely lose it. However, what Kiran had just done was no small thing. If there was one thing that Van hated beyond measure, however, it was meeting someone more arrogant than she was. This was not to say that Kiran really was the more arrogant Lunarian, but given the situation, and the fact that he had beaten her the last two times they’d fought, she let the anger roll over her in a poisonous wave.
Her face darkened dangerously—she was more angry with him now than she’d ever been in the past, and it was perhaps this that would change their battle from this point on. It was not the useless, incoherent anger that had wrought her downfall against her recent fight with Bataar, no, this was the vengeful anger of someone who had been personally wronged. For now, this would be all that would motivate her.
“They say the third time’s the charm,” she muttered darkly, feeling determined to deny him yet another excuse for that insufferable boasting, “Or in your case, it means your luck has run out.” Whether she would be able to deliver on these words, they had yet to find out, but for Van, resolving to win was just as good as winning.
She choked as his knee made contact with her stomach, the pain of his kick making her vision go blurry for a few moments while she fell backwards onto the ground behind him. Still grounded, she waited for him to face her before she attempted a straight kick to his knees. She stood up, surprised to find herself curling her fingers into the famous Tiger claw of the Shaolin martial art. Van rarely relied on this style, deeming its direct, powerful approach incompatible with her personality. For the sake of this particular fight, though, she thought it was well merited.
The fighter attacked again, going for impact with the base of her palms, before clawing downward with manicured nails that were beginning to look suspiciously like claws.
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 1:37 pm
Kiran snorted at her comment. "Doubtful," he said with a hint of laughter in his tone. "My luck has held out this far. I don't think it's about to abandon me just yet." A smirk slipped across his features. If anyone had ever claimed him not to be cocky, they were dead wrong. Even if he knew better than to let past victories go to his head, he couldn't help the sense of smugness that overcame him at his two wins against Van.
But luck, of course, was a fickle mistress. He might have beaten Van in their past encounters, but that didn't mean luck would consider shining upon him in present or future battles with the other fighter. Battles weren't simply a matter of luck, though some might claim others' victories were simply a matter of luck. Skill was also a deciding factor, and Kiran was confident in his abilities. Or most of them anyway; his skills in seal form magic were still lacking, and he didn't dare to test them out in a real battle in case he accidentally burned his hands yet again.
He felt his knee connect with its desired target and released his hold on her arm. His confidence soared, believing the battle to be another win for him. Then he felt a sharp kick to the back of his knees that made him stagger, his recovering right knee aching from a direct blow to it. He recovered from the painful kick too slow. A pair of palms slammed into his chest followed by sharp nails scratching down his chest, gouging out long lines in his flesh. He brought his arms under then up between her arms, forcing them apart before he gave her a powerful shove.
With a hiss, Kiran pressed back against the wall behind him. His knee throbbed and his chest stung, reminding him too closely of how he felt at the end of their last battle. He knew he wouldn't be able to last long in this fight with his right knee about to give out on him. "Well then," he demanded, arms out wide at his sides in offering of a perfect chance to strike a final blow. "Go on and finish it." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 2:23 pm
Van’s face twisted into a rather unbecoming sneer as Kiran continued to challenge her. She decided to say nothing, however, letting her actions speak for themselves. Arrogance was something that often blinded Van, but this wasn’t the case in this particular fight. This wasn’t a fight for her pride—it was a fight for retribution, for acknowledgment, because his standoffish attitude was the most irritating thing in the world to her right now. One way or another, she was going to make him eat his words.
She felt him shove her, but not before her tiger palm had connected powerfully. Standing a few feet back, she rooted herself on the ground, breathing hard while she watched him hiss in pain. Wasting no time in reassuming her tiger stance, she waited for him to get back on his two feet and resume the battle. He didn’t, however, instead holding out his arms wide as if welcoming the last strike. Her eyes narrowed, hatred consuming her expression.
This wasn’t how she wanted to win. This wasn’t how she fought people—she wouldn’t keep fighting someone if they didn’t fight back. Bataar was the only exception to this rule, and only because their fights had always been laced with dirty moves. Kiran had not yet earned that shame in Van’s mind, though he was about to if he kept this up. “Coward!” she shouted, spitting the word with utter venom. The fighter broke her stance and stalked toward him, taking a fistful of his vest. She yanked hard on it, pulling him towards her so that they were eye to eye. Snarling, she demanded, “Why don’t you fight me?”
A few moments passed as she let her words sink in before she let go of him, allowing him one last chance to do something for himself. Van, like the tiger she was trying to emulate, did not know the definition of giving up. Just as she wouldn't hit someone while he was down, she always fought til the very end—this was the code she'd always lived by. If her opponent wouldn’t grant her the same honor, then he wasn’t worth fighting.
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 8:57 pm
Kiran knew he must look pathetic, leaning against the wall and offering Van an easy victory. He would have felt insulted to have an opponent do the same, and that disgusted twisted inside him as he rested for the brief pause in the fight. From the fury in Van's eyes and the hatred splashed across her face, Kiran guessed that she didn't like this any better than he did.
He glared darkly at her for using the word "coward" in reference to him. While he might run away from a fight that he knows outmatches him, he would never use the term coward to describe himself. He saw that as a wise move when facing more opponents than he can handle on his own. He watched her with a darkening anger in his eyes as Van stalked toward him. When she seized hold of his vest, he didn't react, letting her draw them eye to eye.
"What did you think we were doing? Dancing?" he questioned, seizing the opportunity of her close proximity to throw a punch. His fist curled tightly at his side as he drew it back. Then he thrust it forward in an upward arc toward her stomach, aiming to hit the same spot from his prior attack with his knee.
It might seem like an underhanded way to attack, luring her closer then striking suddenly. But with the blossoming pain in his previously injured knee, Kiran knew his speed would be greatly reduced. He wouldn't be able to make the same quick dodges that he usually did to avoid powerful blows.
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 10:04 pm
She waited for him to respond, fully aware of how her rage was painting her. As offended as Van was, she was lucid enough to restrain herself from sinking to his level and attacking him while he still refused to.
Something in her words had stirred him—she could see it in his dark eyes when she called him a coward. Was he going to fight back now? She could have grinned, had she not been so angry. The fighter rarely threw insults in the midst of a heated battle, but this time she’d truly meant what she said. Their fight resumed with the next punch he threw, one that Van twisted away from so that he wouldn’t hit her in the vital spot just under her ribs. Still, the bruise would certainly show the next morning, a mottled black and blue reminder of this bitter fight and, in Van’s mind, Kiran’s insult.
Using her twisting motion as momentum, Van rounded backwards behind him, swinging her leg up high to catch the Noble square in the back with a powerful kick. She’d managed to get him to throw one last punch, but in the end, her disgust with him was too much. She couldn’t even look at him. Here, their fight ended.
Turning around, the woman went to collect her bags. Every step she took made her painfully aware of the soreness in her limbs and torso, and of the blood and flesh embedded under her nails. She’d won, but her victory was not as sweet as she was used to them being. Her love of high-flying fists and kicks, of a good match had been cut short by the other’s premature concession. She left him with a cold challenge, each syllable dripping with icy derision. “Come back when you can fight me like a man.”
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