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nrth-wind-a · 3 years

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@tylerzillakingofmonsters - Christmas Gift!

Drabble below the cut!

Lieutenant Zadra of Akiridion-5 was not often… one for vacations. But her queen had nearly shoved her through the portal to Earth, insisting that visiting Krel, and not engaging in her work in any way might be good for the woman. Something about her core seeming stretched-thin— an adaptation of a human phrase, she’d noted, as Aja had said it— which she wasn’t entirely sure she believed, but her queen had insisted. Zadra was much more convinced that it had something to do with the fact that the queen’s human friend Steven Palchuck had passed her going the opposite direction in the portal, but for how much motherly authority she held over the queen, she couldn’t disobey a direct order.

Prompt: Zadra and... a certain someone meeting

So, Earth it was. Krel had received her on the other side with wide-open arms, and it had been a sweet embrace. Perhaps her queen had somewhat of a point. It had been a long time since she’d seen the king-in-waiting.

After a week or so, the vacation began to lose its charm, though. Seeing Krel was nice, but the boy was busy with either his human friends, or his gadgets that she only half-understood, and while her vacation wasn’t meant to be specifically for her and Krel to see each other exclusively, she did grow a tad… restless during the day. The soap operas that Lucy had recommended could only entertain her for so long.

On day eight of her vacation on Earth, she’d finally gotten too restless to resist the call to do something, so she’d woken at their dawntime, left a note on the counter for the other residents of the house, and taken off, serrator in hand. Aja had said not to work, but she hadn’t forbidden Zadra from training. Besides, this was less training and more… entertainment. A way to keep herself sharp, but also, a way to enjoy herself. Earth had forests. Trees. They provided a lovely challenge that she just couldn’t access on Akiridion-5, at least, not organically.

The sky was still a pale heather overhead as she found her way deep into Arcadia’s namesake oaks, spotting a nice clearing in which to go through her technique first. Formal scythe forms and classical training first; improvisation and creativity second.

By the time the sun crested the tops of the trees, Zadra’s red boots were closer to brown and green, and she was panting ever-so-slightly. Her muscles burned with her effort expenditure, but it was nice. Familiar. She felt much less wound-up. Perhaps her queen had been right after all. She had needed a break.

It was as she’d decided to try moving to a new spot, to push her limits, test herself in a new environment, that she found them, about a half-mile from where she’d just been.

Ruins.

She found ruins.

Great chunks of white stone, gold embossed architecture, crumbling towers of what must have been a grand building. Oddly enough, however, they looked almost… recent. There was no overgrowth of the flora that covered Earth’s surface, no aging around the gold, which was still so polished, shimmering in the heightening, midday sun.

The tiniest sound, the flutter of something like feathers, was all she received as warning, before she was whirling on her heels, her favored weapon of choice— the double-edged scythe mode on her serrator— fully engaged. She wouldn’t attack just yet; if a problem could be solved diplomatically first, she’d be more than happy to avoid violence… but something felt off. The air felt hostile.

When her eyes landed on something red, glowing hot in the shadows, she straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and moved her unarmed side to be the one she led with— her position was powerful, closed in the event of danger, but not provocative of violence— as she said aloud, “Are you friend or foe?”

Two glowing eyes turned to an angle, indicating that the being had tilted their head. When a voice came from where they were perched, Zadra felt a tense shiver run down her back. The way it shifted between something nearly melodic to something ancient and deep… Zadra didn’t favor it.

“That depends. Why are you here?” the shadows demanded.

Zadra’s grip on her scythe, though it was down by her side still, tightened. Nonetheless, she saw no reason to lie. “I was searching for training ground. Is… this land yours?”

A tree branch shifting, and the way the red glow dropped, told Zadra that the being stood on equal ground with her now. The voice spoke again, but this time the lieutenant was ready for it. It did not startle her this time around.

“Not particularly, no. But I must ask you to leave, if you know what is good for you.”

Now, Zadra was not one to pick a fight unnecessarily, but she did recognize a threat when she saw one. “And why is that? Can we not share the space?”

“No.” The voice growled.

Zadra narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

The pair of glowing eyes in the shadows turned somehow even more dangerous, meeting hers dead-on “Meddlers may end up... hurt.”

The Akiridion scoffed. “I believe I will be quite alright.”

There was a brief pause, as the being almost seemed surprised.

Then, slowly, they stepped into the sunlight, materializing bit by bit from the darkness. Zadra took one surprised step back, before catching herself, and holding her ground. She knew this creature now… Krel had warned her, had shown her the footage from Dadblank.

She immediately sank into a defensive position.

Noticing this, the magician’s head canted once more, observing Zadra’s reaction. They almost seemed to smirk under their beaked mask as they said, “I would not be so sure… You seem eager to engage me in combat. Allow me to assure you— it will not go well for you.”

Zadra grit her teeth, tensing as she dug her heels into the ground, preparing to strike. “I know well who you are— you hurt my king-in-waiting. I cannot allow this to go unpunished. In the name of House Tarron, I will strike you down!”

This was the magician’s only warning; Zadra was honorable, but she was not above being ruthless. Quicker than the being seemed to have expected, Zadra was on them, Akiridion metal boring down against the blade on their staff, brilliant sparks whizzing past their faces as the weapons met.

—

Bellroc had not thought it would go this way. Often, intimidation was enough. But as the other’s blade met theirs, they felt the muscle behind her attack, and were forced to reevaluate.

The woman seemed light on her feet, Bellroc noted, as she sprung up and over, clearing their head by a healthy few inches. Unfortunately for her, as flame was wont to flickering with the way that air shifted, so too was Bellroc prepared to be quick and adaptable. They whirled on their toes, planting their feet just in time to bring their staff up to block once again.

The pair pushed against each other, but neither was immediately winning the clash, so Bellroc improvised. Without the warning of an incantation spoken aloud, the stone at the top of their staff glowed brilliant red. The woman’s eyes flicked to it, and Bellroc took their chance.

She didn’t see Bellroc’s head until it had collided with her own, but as strong as Zadra was, thick bone was no easy hit to take, not when it felt like her very head was splintering.

She stumbled back a few steps, and when her fingers felt a crack in the skin on her forehead, she narrowed her eyes, growling low in her throat. The other being seemed to be riding high from the hit, so she took the small window of opportunity she had to refocus, and begin spinning her scythe, building up the kinetic force necessary to fling an energy-copy of her blades hurtling directly at the other.

Bellroc had been taking the barest hint of time to right their mask, after it had been pushed slightly off-kilter by their attack, so by the time they saw the blade, it was too late to avoid it hitting them at all. They only just had time to dodge it enough that the thing sliced their shoulder, rather than piercing anything vital. They gave a soft grunt of pain— it had been quite some centuries since they’d been physically wounded by a blade, and it sent their mind spiraling with rage. These insolent, stupid mortals, deigning to think themselves powerful.

Well, if the mortal wanted to see true power, then, fine. Bellroc could do that.

With both hands on their staff, they hissed the incantation— solely because they knew how intimidating it would sound— and gathered heat directly from the air around them. Their staff pulsed once, and then released the heat back, in the form of an enormous golden ball of flame, shot directly back toward the woman.

Zadra had to throw herself to the side to avoid the blast, and she almost taunted the being for missing, but as the ball of magic crashed into the crumbling wall a few yards behind her, it sent a wave of hot energy recoiling toward her prone back, along with dust and chunks of stone. She was thrown from her feet, and, worse, from her serrator, which was now lying too far from her to risk gathering, as the magician was rapidly approaching.

Zadra breathed in deeply—an unarmed strike, then, she thought--and focused her core.

Wait… wait…

Bellroc didn’t see the feet aimed for their abdomen, just below their armor, until they connected, and— ah, the woman was quite strong, they thought, almost in mutual respect, as they were toppled to the ground, their staff being wrenched from their hand as they did.

Bellroc was then thoroughly humiliated, lying on their elbows, seeing the business end of their own weapon very near their face.

That just wouldn’t do, now would it?

They were lucky they didn’t need the thing to cast.

They blasted Zadra with a cheap shot of flame from their hands, and as she was distracted, Bellroc scrambled to their feet.

They evaluated the situation, eyes flickering all over the field in rapid movements, taking it all in and—

Ah.

The blue scythe felt unfamiliarly balanced in their hands, but… it wasn’t entirely different from a staff. This one was just double-ended where theirs was not.

Spinning it a few times in their hands to give a try helped them adjust to the weight— and just in time, too, as their own blade was swung haphazardly at their face; they blocked it with the handle of the scythe, between their own hands, and a vicious grin slid across their face, as the eyes of their mask bore heatedly into Zadra’s, “You know not what you hold, mortal.”

“And you continue to underestimate me,” the woman shot back as she turned the blade on its side and slid it down the handle of the scythe, toward one of Bellroc’s hands.

They dropped the scythe from the endangered hand, and with a rapid wind up, they swung it one-handed toward Zadra’s head.

Zadra, who ducked and rolled, and answered back with a swipe at Bellroc’s ankles. They leapt into the air enough to avoid the shot and brought one side of the scythe in a furious arc back toward the woman, in retaliation. It, too, would miss, though, as she rolled once more, and finally sprang back to her feet, sending the blade once more toward Bellroc, aiming this time for their neck.

It was met with a blue scythe curve, and once again, the two were locked in a clash.

Bellroc readied yet another spell— the amount of magic they’d had to use in what should have been an easy fight was bordering on shameful— as Zadra’s core gleamed with anticipation.

The pair leapt apart, and as they raced toward each other for another attack, both opponents had to admit a certain level of… appreciation for the other’s abilities.

When later asked, however, as Bellroc returned to the fortress with glowing red slices across their body and a tear in the fabric hanging from their belt— and Zadra to the Tarron Earth home, with scorch marks, ash, mud, and aching muscles— neither would admit such appreciation.

In fact, as their respective others asked just what exactly had happened to them, unbeknownst to each other, they’d both, in tandem, simply said, “Do-” “-not-” “-ask.”

#// god this fic was fun #// forgive my fight scene writing tho oof #// still new to those #christmas 2020 rpc gifts #tylerzillakingofmonsters #ok to rb!

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