Sparring Partners

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Some time ago...
(after the events of Unhinged)


She had been gone for months. In the time that the Mando'ade of Onderon had been following her as their Mand'alor, they had grown used to her absences. Lilaena was not stupid; she knew that each time she left they wondered if she would be back. Bretak always stepped in to lead when she was gone, and had never betrayed her. He knew how powerful she was, and was strong enough himself to push back any one who might wish to assume the mantle of Mand'alor.

As she made her way back into her home she passed by her honor guard, hastily reassembled during the sparring match with her apprentice. No matter how many times she'd insisted she didn't need a guard, they persisted in being there, everywhere she went. Bretak had finally informed her that 'guard' was a poor term, these were to be her vod, her brothers and sisters of the clan. A Mandalore usually brought up his own closest allies to be his right hand men and women, but she had come with no one.

Choruk, Hel, Jeng, and Obed were those Bretak had chosen to fill the position, and they were outside her door, standing casually as if they had nothing better to do than to babysit her when she was in the camp. Lilaena paused in her doorway, making eye contact with Hel.

"See that I am not disturbed," she said in accented mando'a, trying to keep the exhaustion out of her voice. Lilaena pushed through into the first room, intending to make it into the bedchamber, but a surge of pain from her side sent her falling into a chair.

She sucked in a breath, trying to pull her bloodied shirt away from her side to inspect the wound. Her arms were trembling with exhaustion and not cooperating. If Grime decided to follow her now... but no, he was in worse shape than she was.

Lilaena bit her lip as she worked the cloth from where it was sticking to the old bandage, but she couldn't see it where it was high on her side. She got shakily to her feet, focusing just on walking to where a piece of mirrored glass was hung on the wall. Her foot caught the leg of the second chair, sending it clattering backward to the ground, but she ignored it, leaning with one hand on the wall as she tried to twist so she could see the bandage without exacerbating the injury too much.

Behind her she heard the door open, and the Force told her it was one of her honor guard. Not a threat. A flash of irritation rose up - they seemed to do whatever they wanted, no matter what she asked them. She straightened up and let her shirt drop, but didn't turn around.

"If you are going to stare, you might as well come help me."

[Jeng]

The mirror reflected the figure behind her. Tall and broad with no helmet to conceal the close-cropped blond hair and familiar face of Jeng.

“And if you’re going to get yourself beaten up, you need to learn how to do a better job of this,” he said in his native mando'a, fingertips brushing a ragged edge of the bandage, where the fabric of it had come away and apparently been attached to her shirt. A little of the skin beneath was visible, red and angry. A frown wrinkled his brow.

“How long’s this been on?”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"A day... two days," she amended, inhaling through gritted teeth as Jeng worked the bandage loose from the injury. Lilaena held the edge of her shirt up and out of the way, watching him in the mirror.

She was going to have to do something about Grime. Dalamar had been a completely different kind of apprentice - he had been able to channel his darker emotions into the Force, but there was always a calmness about it. Sort of, anyway. He was unfailingly polite to her, even when angry.

If Dalamar DeSang was a blowtorch, Hawkins Grime was a wildfire.

"I've got the drexl by the tail," she muttered in mando'a, something she'd heard Granoi say a few times, usually to children.

[Jeng]

Jeng lifted the last of the bandage away and set it aside. The fight with Grime had agitated wounds that were part way through healing, but there was no torrent of blood or obvious inflammation of the flesh around the cuts that would be cause for concern.

“Nothing too serious,” he said. “We’ll clean these up and get them re-dressed,” he added, looking about for a moment before spotting a small medikit close to hand. There were similar supplies all throughout the camp, and all of the Mando’ade made a point of being proficient in their use. He set the fallen chair back onto its legs then flipped the kit open and set it on the chair.

“Shirt off,” he said, with an upward motion of his open palm. While she worked to get the clothing off, he picked through the contents of the medikit.

“You know, you don’t handle a drexl on your own. You do it as a team.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena tugged her shirt over her head, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. She turned and lifted her arm, looking at the partially healed cuts in the mirror. Blood was leaking around the scabs.

"If the ones who tame..." Her mando'a failed her, and Lilaena switched back to Basic. "Taming a drexl is different from hunting it. It's difficult to do, without the right skills."

She lifted the shirt from the floor with the Force, and tossed it into the corner of the room.

Perhaps this was what Callidus felt like, when dealing with her. Only, she was pretty sure Grime wanted her dead. As soon as he got all he wanted from her teaching, he would turn on her.

[Jeng]

For her benefit, Jeng spoke in Basic too. He grinned. “Show me a tame drexl and I’ll show my arse in the middle of camp.”

He poured saline solution onto a gauze pad and began to dab at the cuts, cleaning away what he could. He patted her side dry with a towel, and though the fabric still came away with flecks of blood, it would have to do. A fresh dressing came next. Jeng pressed it firmly into place while the adhesive took hold.

“No more sparring until this is healed.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena grunted in reply, gingerly moving her arm and testing how much the bandage on her side pulled when she moved. Jeng had done a good job patching her up, but as his fingers touched her side once more to smooth down one edge of the self-sealing dressing it was Salem Ave she was seeing in the mirror. His fingers tracing along her ribcage. His body close enough behind her she could feel the heat of it.

Her heartbeat thumped in her ears, and she looked away abruptly, twisting out of his reach. Stupid, stupid girl.

Lilaena looked down, as if just realizing her state of undress, and her shirt zipped across the room to the palm of her hand.

"Thank you, that will be fine." She didn't look directly at Jeng, instead focusing off to the side, her face a little flushed as she pulled her shirt on.

[Jeng]

Later…
(after the events of The Empty Orphanage)

In a common room aboard the Ne'ta Prudii, there was a crude circle painted on the deck plating. Back on Onderon, it would have been a patch of dirt, distinct only because the grass within was thin, patches of hard earth showing through after being trampled by so many shifting feet and falling bodies. Here, it was a rough white line that traced the outermost perimeter of a battle circle. There was no right or wrong way to mark the space that Mand’alor now stood in, lightsaber in hand. What mattered wasn’t how the circle was drawn, it's precision or it's size, but that it was there and that it’s rules were respected. That there wasn’t much room aboard the YT-1760 transport, yet space had been set aside for the circle, spoke volumes of its importance to the mando’ade.

Jeng watched from outside the circle as Lilaena cycled through a series of precise movements with the Jetii'kad.

“Had a feeling I’d find you here.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena hissed out a breath, her muscles glistening with sweat as she whipped through another Vapaad form. Deactivating her lightsaber, she let her arms hang by her sides as she turned to face Jeng. "I could not sleep."

In one of the cabins lay a tiny Rodian girl, barely holding onto life as the scientist they had captured tended to her. In another cabin the other five children were sleeping - Lilaena could sense their peace with the Force. Akasha was asleep in the galley, along with some of the other Mando'ade. Zereth was sitting up in the cockpit.

She could feel all of them, knew their satisfaction of a job well done. Imperials slaughtered. The wrinkled old doctor burned to death in his own lab.

Still, she could not sleep.

Tossing her saber away, she looked at the Mando'ade and then down at the circle in an open invitation.

[Jeng]

Jeng looked down at the circle, then back up at Mand’alor. He studied her expression, trying to discern anything about her state of mind and, as usual, found her a difficult one to read.

“Unarmed? Armor on or off?” he said, preemptively tightening the fastenings of one vambrace. Though he wasn’t wearing his helmet or jetpack, Jeng was otherwise dressed as he had been during the mission to Talus.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

“Unarmed. No armor.” Lilaena paced to the far side of the circle, waiting for him to take off his armor. She wore leggings and a tank top, and her hair swept up into a short ponytail.

She stretched a bit, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck. “Take your time,” she said dryly, goading Jeng as he piled his armor carefully outside the circle.

[Jeng]

PIece by piece, Jeng shed the many parts of his armour. Shoulder pauldrons, breastplate, all of it removed with care.

“You’re enjoying watching this, eh?” he said, glancing up with a grin from working loose the last piece, a shin guard. Stripped of the beskar armor, he wore only the durasteel-grey body glove that formed the lightweight base layer of the suit.

He paced barefoot to the edge of the battle circle. Ordinarily, the circle demanded an audience, a referee at least, but this was no fight for clan supremacy. They could do without.

Without ceremony, Jeng crossed the painted line.

“On your word, alor.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena padded over to him, the deck cold under her bare feet. Meeting in the middle of the circle, she put her hands up in a loose defensive posture, hands open.

“Begin,” she said, her voice short as she concentrated on the way his muscles bunched under his bodyglove. Anticipating his move, she slapped aside the first strike and the second, stepping back as he flowed forward.

Seeing a quick opening she abruptly held her ground, grabbing his arm and yanking him to the side. He let her throw him over her hip, and she straddled him in a finishing move, but held her hand above his his face without landing the strike.

”Do not think you should take it easy on me,” she said, finally tapping him between the eyes with the tips of her fingers.

[Jeng]

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, batting her hand aside as though swatting a fly. Jeng raised his knees, planted his feet hard against the deck plating and bucked his hips. In a single motion, Lilaena tumbled off to the side and he rolled with her, their positions abruptly reversed. She was quick and lithe, but Jeng had the height and weight advantage to make it a short fight if he could stay on top.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She scrambled underneath him, shoving him up enough so she could twist to her hands and knees. Crouched, Lilaena wrapped an arm around the outside of his, spinning around until she faced him as she drove him toward the deck with her shoulder.

Launching from her toes, she slammed into his side, trying to wrap him up.

[Jeng]

Jeng rolled, letting out a huff of breath as he tumbled across the decking. He scrambled back up to his feet, stooped low with his stance set wide, waiting for her to come to him, fingers teasing the air in anticipation.

“You fight well.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

“So I’ve been told.” Lilaena grinned despite herself, adrenaline banishing her gloomy thoughts.

Fighting hand-to-hand was not something she did very often, but she had grappled with Granoi and Hel before, learning moves she could use in case she didn’t have her lightsaber. Or the Force.

It it was tempting to simply drag him toward her, but she closed the distance, throwing a few punches that he dodged or blocked.

”Of course, I don’t usually fight like this,” she said, dancing back a little.

[Jeng]

“How do you normally fight?” he asked, stepping in to deliver two quick jabs. On the second strike, she caught his fist with preternatural quickness and he weaved away to the left before she could twist his arm into a lock.

He feigned another punch, aiming high, then with a quick step to the left, drove a kick at her knee.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena caught his foot with hers, hooking it and shoving him back. As he regained his balance she threw herself into a one handed cartwheel, driving both feet down at his head, one after the other.

[Jeng]

Jeng lurched backwards to avoid the first kick, upper body twisting just enough to escape what would have been a staggering blow to the head, though the second caught him in the chest. The Mando’ade of Onderon practised many forms of combat, but the acrobatic flare of the cartwheel was beyond Jeng’s skillset. Still, he wasn’t without aerial maneuevers of his own. As she completed the cartwheel, he hoped to capitalise on what might be some unsteady footing, so jumped and twisted at the hips, driving a two-footed dropkick at the centre of her breastbone.