Thirty-One vol.2

Two swords clashed against one, the three ringing in a unison of scraping metal—or whatever mix of alloys made them. The blades divided, sliced and flowed against one another, then advanced once more to ring with the tune of battle.

Within that white space, Rose and Lilias moved in a dance of flurries, the former mostly on the defensive. It was still painfully obvious that the dragonian was a better swordsman, gifted by the heavens themselves perhaps, but Rose stood toe to toe with her, leagues better than she had been within the slums.

Elsa sat, glance fluttering between her two companions, the display on her pad, and the new tattoo of a green tree, etched on her arm. In the end, she decided to lean against a wall, fold her arms, and watch their spar.

"You're stronger, sharper," Lilias spoke as the screeching of blades met once more, "Better than before."

"Naturally," Rose replied, considering it a bygone fact, "I'm always training."

Lilias nodded.

"I wish that were the case for me."

The dragonian took a step away, dodging Rose's blade with the most minimal effort before placing her foot back down and stepping inside in the moment after, swords lashing out. Rose's golden eyes jumped, her weapon blocked one attack, parried the next, and then she was moving, once more, defensive as Lilias's crimson eyes maintained their narrow focus on her.

She could use the sheath of her weapon to alleviate the stress of fighting someone with two blades, but their spar was about swords and swordsmanship, not protective cases. So, she instead thought of the flow of the fight, trying to predict her opponent's next move If she could reach a second into the future, she would win.

"So far as I understand, you're a calculator," Lilias said, "Someone who fights while thinking of every possible thing within the situation. Where will I strike next? You're in the midst of predicting that with every passing second, aren't you? Will my tail lash at you?"

She smiled thinly.

"Don't worry, I won't use it for a spar with blades."

Rose rolled her eyes.

"And I suppose you're a predator, a beast, someone who likes to come in to kill?" She said, eyes tracking the girl's weapon as she parried both and countered, knocking them aside before stepping in, "Though intelligent enough to calculate in your own ways, you prefer instinct to caution, and you like the more brutal, direct, approach of pushing a prey against the wall with your twin swords."

The world blurred as her weapon moved, approaching the girl's neck.

Two swords clashed.

Rose stared at her younger sister with a distinct frown, feeling the weight of the girl's strength against hers, and the cold stare of a girl that was forever prepared for battle. Bianca, on the other hand, deepened the creases in her furrowed brows, holding her weapon with both hands, and standing, teeth gritted, as Rose pushed against her.

'Such a simple mind for someone so intelligent.'

Rose took a step back and the girl shot in, weapon swinging with predictability.

"You should not try and copy me to reach me, Bianca," Rose said, blade crossing through the air, knocking the girl off her balance and stepping in to place her sword at her sister's throat. "You're not reaching your full potential chasing only me."

The usually frigid girl had an expression of shock, wonder, and a tinge of utter respect. She stood, dressed in her padded trainer wear of leather, breathing harsh.

The clink of a weapon hitting and clanking against stone rang within the hall.

Rose smiled and retracted her blade.

"As your sister and your superior," She said, "I order you to find your own way of fighting. A sword in close range does not fit your hands."

Bianca remained silent atop the arena of smooth stone as she glanced at her fallen sword, then back at her sister.

"Yes, yes. . ." She nodded, speaking briefly, "We each have our own fates, right? One may parallel another, but no two stand identical. A collective, we must fight. An individual, you must remain."

Rose grinned as her weapon disappeared from her grasp with the dying spark of flames. She stepped in, and ruffled her sister's blonde hair, glancing down at the girl's face.

"Woah, you remembered," She spoke with beady eyes. Proud.

"Come on. . ." Bianca rolled her azure eyes, pouting slightly at the obvious. "I remember anything I've seen once."

Rose laughed.

"And yet your lips remain shut when the idea of tradition is brought up."

"They tether you to the past, an annoyance holding us back," Bianca countered, "We've remained stagnant, against the changing world around us."

She paused. Then she stared up, into her sister's eyes.

"Rose. . .why don't you become the patriarch?"

Rose smiled and ruffled Bianca's blonde hair again, simply thinking the girl too cute. Still, she sighed, took a step back, and turned around to walk from the arena.

"I'm afraid that is not my fate," She spoke softly, fluent with her heart's desires.

"But you're stronger than everyone." Bianca countered once more. "The patriarch. The truth-seeker. The other guardians. And the elders. Everyone."

Rose paused her steps and cocked her head back. Her azure eyes rolled over the image of her sister. Someone born almost of her own image. And she smiled as she fully turned around.

"I value freedom, and my own path," She said, the world aligning with her as a soft wind rustled her hip-length hair. "But I also value order. And here, within Alandrea, strength alone determines nothing."

Wind churned and changed in the next breath into the crackling of white lightning, sparking around Rose's form as her gaze solidified.

"Speaking of overthrowing the patriarch like that is grounds enough for punishment, don't you understand?"

Bianca bit her lips. Then she pursed them before sighing, releasing the tension in her figure. As fear inducing as her sister could be sometimes, she knew that she would never be harmed by her gentle hands.

"Alright. . ." She said, giving in. Never one to win a play of words with her sister. She could not deny that she too valued order, after all. At the very least, it was the sole thing she wanted most from those beneath her.

Rose, on the other hand, smiled and took a step closer, stretching out her hand as her true magic disappeared until she patted the girl's head. Gingerly, carefully, caressing her.

"Good," She spoke, "Now why don't we enjoy ourselves a lovely break, Bianca? Perhaps back home with some tea?"

"Coffee for me," Bianca sighed. "There you go, recommending tea again when we both know I prefer coffee."

Rose laughed, her voice falling as the world blurred back.

Reality was different.

Rose found herself immediately conscious of fighting, once more, back in the mind of her body. Her blade clashed with Lilias's and the girl forced her out with flurries devoid of any openings. Though the memories of her past had gripped her, she was never entirely separated from her own body, as if her consciousness had merely been split into two.

"A person fighting how another does," Rose muttered as her blade moved, once more fully aware of herself, where she was, and what battle she was currently facing.

Lilias narrowed her crimson eyes.

"Is that how your father fights? With twin swords and nothing more? Is he a dragonian without a tail, as well?" She continued, remembering the many times she had fought the dragonian, recognizing that the girl had only ever used her tail to shield herself from Rose's flames, nothing more. Rose's golden eyes followed the trajectory of the girl's swords and blocked with her own singular weapon, holding firm. "Is that why, with magic, you don't use that either when pure swordsmanship comes to play?"

Lilias shifted back and Rose came in, shooting inside her zone with weapon swinging.

Abdomen.

"Is that how he fights, Lilias?" She asked, for she couldn't understand someone who didn't give their all.

Blocked.

Rose spun her sword, changing its trajectory, drifting past the girl's weapon and slicing towards her shoulder.

"Two swords. No magic. And a tail used only for defense. . ." She pondered, "I didn't understand why you were limiting yourself before, I thought it frankly foolish, but I think I do now."

She made a feint with her sword. It blurred and paralleled itself with the girl's shoulder.

"You're copying your father to the point of neglecting what makes you unique."

She headed for her neck.

Rose widened her eyes as their crossing weapons left a spark, finding her blade stuck between Lilias's two swords. A move the girl had never displayed before, used so effortlessly and with ease.

"How astute," Lilias smiled thinly. That oh so familiar smile that she still tried to hide. "Yet, I still win with his swordsmanship."

A twist and Rose found her weapon, griped as tightly as she could, swerving out of her grasp before flying into the air.

She took a step back.

Two swords crossed against her neck and she found herself standing disarmed, captured in place by two crimson eyes. If the girl wished, a simple twist of her hands could sever Rose's head from her body.

"It was a good match," Lilias said, "A good conversation, as well."

The clink of a weapon falling onto the ground rang throughout the white space.

"I'll be stronger next time," Rose replied.

Lilias stared at her, placid. "And that's why you remain the perfect sparring partner for me."

Rose took a step, breaking the girl's entrapment as the weapons were lowered.

'Forget whether she chooses to wield her magic or not,' She thought, 'She's still hiding much of her swordsmanship skills. Perhaps waiting for me to reach her level.'

She looked at the girl sheathing her weapons behind her. Those weapons she was chained down to fix, banished from her city until she could kill and retrieve a dragon's soul. And yet, she still decided to fight in only the ways her father did, chaining herself even more. Rose pondered, was there even a need to actually be the one to kill the dragon itself? Then, she wondered, with the faint understanding of what kind of creature that was, if it was even possible.

Rose remembered Bianca. The younger Bianca who looked up to her. Her form. And her words. 'We each have our own fates. One may parallel another, but no two stands identical. A collective, we must fight. An individual, you must remain.'

She smiled, feeling the need to state her thoughts out loud as she stared at the dragonian before her. "I'll prove you wrong, with my own sword."

"Oh?" Lilias raised a brow and nodded. "Are we rivals, then?"

<Igris> disappeared from the white floor with a spurt of fire.

"Indeed," Rose replied, "Rivals."

Across the space, Elsa wondered why the two were standing and speaking in whispers. Though, she tilted her head, did they look closer somehow? 'How the heck did fighting bring em' closer?' She thought.