Spirits of the Earth

[ @DaGlobster !]

It was to be a non-lethal match, so there was that.

A non-lethal match, so no one had to die today. It would be a smaller crowd than the bloodsports, but there would still be a big turnout as usual--this was one of the most popular forms of entertainment in Essyrn, after all--and though Yasmin technically no longer had a master, considering he was dead, she had been tasked with the fun duty of keeping up appearances. You know, pretending Master Dearest was still actually alive by coming to these matches on schedule, like a good little slave.

Today, she'd be facing some guy called The Longknife. A volunteer gladiator, apparently, sort that did it for the money and not because he had no choice. She'd heard his name floating around the Colosseum before, and had decided the moment she heard he was to be her opponent that she was going to grind his face into the sand.

Maybe make him eat some while she was at it. Stick it up his nose. Make him shit sand for weeks.

Volunteer her black ass. She felt sorry for her fellow slaves, who were stuck in a situation they had no say in. But the volunteers, the ones who did it for shits and giggles and profited...now those were the ones she genuinely had it out for. She didn't normally think herself a vengeful person, but she got some small satisfaction whenever those ones failed.

Yasmin was at the Colosseum, but she was a bit early. Way early. Some of Karime's (rest in pieces!) servants had delivered her there the night before so she could prepare and practice and ready herself. And sleep in her crappy old cell in her crappy old bed. Now, with a bit under an hour until the match, she did her warm-up stretches and went through some drills, practicing a few maneuvers with her scimitar and hacking up a dummy.

Not that she'd be hacking up mister Longknife. These matches generally only went 'til first blood.

And damn if she wasn't out for his. Maybe some part of her was itching for a fight.

The last few days had been stressful, though, and for all that she hated this business...at least it was something she knew.

She gave the dummy a vicious slash across its "belly" and straw "guts" poured out. "Oh, I'm so sorry Mister Longknife!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Did that hurt? Whoops! Must have slipped."

She slashed at it again, this time severing an arm. "Oops! Slipped again!"

Its other arm joined its twin. "Butterfingers! Gosh. It's almost like it just--"

There went its leg.

"--keeps--"

And its other leg.

"--happening!"

Its head went soaring. Yasmin inhaled deeply and swiped the back of her hand over her sweaty brow. "Not so long anymore, are you, Longwife? Stupid moneygrubber." She impaled it with a quick thrust through its middle.

Was it a scimitars and short swords kind of day? Or maybe even rapier and battleaxe. That was a combo he hadn't used in a while.

Juras looked intently at his wall of weapons, each representing a style mastered, and several foes conquered. He was eating some eggs he'd prepared for breakfast, sitting at a table that faced it. It was truly the most valuable wall in the small, second-floor flat he called home. He wasn't living as extravagant a life as one would expect, but his place was at least decent. Decent looking, clean, and tidy.

Really, his bed was the only thing he'd splurged on. The rest of his money was saved, in case of Gods know what.

He set his fork down, having come to a decision. Khopeshes and a greatsword? Definitely! He finished his breakfast, and got himself geared out. His armor was light as all hell, little more than pauldrons, elbow and knee plates, gauntlets, and a helmet. He kept his upper body bare to display those countless scars on his body, but his lower body was protected from scrapes and cuts by leather pants.

He decked himself out in the usual fashion. Khopeshes and a greatsword as his primaries, and several secondaries. A short sword sheathed on his rear hip, punch daggers hidden in his bracers, and just a few regular daggers placed around his general person.

He set off to the arena, arriving just a half-hour before the scheduled fight.

Practice finished, Yasmin got suited up: a light tunic, which was long enough to reach the tops of her knees, with light armor atop it--cingulum, manicae, and ocrea, with a small shield in the hand that didn't hold her scimitar. She wore a helmet, but no cuirass, for mobility and speed were her strength. Hopefully both would help her against this guy. She hadn't actually seen him in action, or even seen him at all, so she had no way of knowing what she was in for.

Guess she'd find out as soon as the portcullis opened.

Which it soon did.

Yasmin preferred simplicity, so today she was fighting with her trusty scimitar, shield, and a backup spear. Over the years, she had made it a point to get really good at just a couple weapons so as not to spread herself too thin over too many. Hopefully that, too, would help her here. Hopefully this "volunteer" was one of those showy ones that knew how to twirl a sword and not much else!

Once the portcullis opened, Yasmin trotted out into the arena and dropped her shield so she could blow the crowd kisses and salute them with her sword. She beamed up at them and waved, flexed here and there for shits and giggles, and spun in a small circle to see all of them--and hated this crowd less than the others. The energy was good, and at least these people were just here for fun and sport. At least these people weren't expecting any actual death.

As much as she hated to admit it, Yasmin did genuinely enjoy these matches, in some small way, and she wondered how much of it was genuine and how much of it was simply born of the relief of knowing she wouldn't have to add anymore tally marks to her tattooed fingers.

"I love you, too!" she shouted back to the cheers. "Don't worry, I'll kick his ass good!" And then she took up her shield again and looked to see just who she'd be up against.

Juras had spent the remaining half hour (and pretty much all of his time waiting behind the portcullis) thinking about his opponent.

Yasmin the Lioness: Slave gladiatrix. Fighting style? Efficient, quick. Very much like him, in a way. Age wise, he supposed they were equivalent. 53 was young for a half-elf, after all. he knew he had her beat in experience, but if there was one thing that experience taught, it was that rookies had a way of surprising you.

The portcullis rose, and Juras' eyes fell on his enemy, and nothing else. Sure, he walked out, gave the crowd its acknowledgement, but his eyes were only for Yasmin. He stood there, watching her, before falling to one knee, and taking up a handful of the arena's dirt. He stood back up, locked eyes with her, and let the sand drain out of his hand.

He drew a khopesh, twirled the blade a couple of times, and entered a ready stance.

Once her opponent entered, Yasmin locked eyes with him and sized him up quite obviously. He was about her height, looked about her age, and his pointed ears betrayed him as something not quite human. Which, of course, begged the question of what he was, as that could significantly impact this fight. He drew a khopesh, but she noted other weapons on his person. Was he a dual-wielder? Then the shield had been a good idea today, indeed.

Hopefully he was one of those fools that thought playing with many weapons while mastering none was better than mastering one or two while not knowing many--but his pointy ears had her concerned. If he was of a long-lived race, he might not be such a fool, and could have her beat in age and experience despite his apparent youth.

She'd have to be careful with this one and just hope he was a cocky thrill-seeker like the others.

The signal was given for the opponents to salute, and Yasmin raised her sword to him at eye level and snapped it down to her side. Then she took a step back and slid into a ready stance, sword up, shield before her and slightly to the side and low, and advanced.

"I hope you know how to use that thing," she called to him, "or this is going to be a very short fight, Longwife."

Juras smiled, brushing some of his hair out the way. He was only using a single khopesh, which left the other one and the greatsword at his disposal, should he feel the need to utilize them as well. Although he was a master of many styles, the single weapon and free hand were his preferred weapons.

So many underestimated the power of an empty hand.

"Longwife," Juras repeated.

"That's a new one."

He saluted her with his sword, and fell into a loose stance, limbs fluid and ready to snap into movement.

"I like to stay original," Yasmin called with a sweet smile as she began to circle Juras. His stance and fluidity spoke of a quick fighter, so she'd have to be on her game. She often got paired against people bigger, stronger, but slower than her, and she knew how to use their weight and strength against them. Someone who was more on her level, though, would also more than likely know her tricks, too.

This would be interesting.

She darted in, swinging a quick slash for his arm, but it was truly only a feint. It was her shield he had to watch out for, and her shield she swung at him from the other side to try to bash into him.

"That makes two of us."

His hand open, bouncing on the balls of his feet, Juras anticipated Yasmin's feint. He danced backwards, out of range of her sword, and when the shield came, he got out of the way entirely.

His foot snapped out, tip aimed at the soft spot behind Yasmin's knee.

That staggered Yasmin and she stumbled, but she managed to catch herself and spin back around to face him. She smiled, teasing. "Hey. That's my trick!" she said, before she darted in again and ducked in low, swiping for his knees.

"You're not the only one with tricks."

Juras once again hopped backwards to dodge her knee swipe. His hand flew to his wrist, where he had his throwing knives, and he sent one flying at Yasmin, right at her chest. Caught out of position by her swing, her only valid option would be to raise her shield to block, and considering where he was aiming, it'd block her vision, as well.

It was either that, or just dive onto the ground to avoid the knife, and against somebody as quick as Juras, that tactic would be suicide.

Juras watched keenly to see if she'd raise her shield or not, waiting to execute the next part of his move.

The choice was obvious. Yasmin, who had not been expecting throwing daggers, had to block.

She swung her shield to her chest and the dagger thunked off the surface--but she didn't stay still. In the same moment, she retreated back several paces to put some distance between them.

Juras followed his dagger in, using that moment where she lifted her shield to close the distance. His natural grace and agility got him up to her quick, and he sent a powerful straight kick towards Yasmin's raised shield, aiming to knock her onto her back, or at least stumble her.

GAH!

He hit her shield, but Yasmin had her feet planted and braced. The blow hit hard and forced her another few steps back so she didn't lose her footing, and she swiftly side-stepped and rushed him, thrusting her shield at his face before swiping at him again, a quick, low slash toward his side.

Yasmin caught his cheek with her shield, and as a result, he took a few tumbling steps backwards. His khopesh shot down to his side to deflect her sword, and he got out of her range yet again.

He smiled at her, and rubbed his cheek a bit. He drew his second khopesh, and he entered a new stance entirely. Swords moved fluidly, and the whole appearance of the stance gave off a defensive feel to it.

It was Essyrni by origin, so Juras was curious to see if Yasmin would recognize it.

Yasmin recognized it, all right!

She scoffed, a smirk twisting her lips as she edged in closer. "Huh! So the pointy-earred foreigner's got some moves on him after all! Maybe. C'mon, Longwife! Show me what you've got going for you besides your pretty face--which I'm totally gonna mess up here if you're not careful!"

And then, eager to bring this bout to a close, she rushed him again--and threw her shield at him.

Right before she ducked low and aimed a swift slash for his legs.

Of course, the style was Essyrni, but Juras also had a little of that elven grace sprinkled onto it as well!

Throwing his swords into a wheeling motion, Juras ducked under the shield as it came zinging at him. Cocking a sword up, he caught the shield using the inner curve of one of his khopeshes, and whirled it back around.

He brought the edge of the shield down into the sand, so it stuck up like a barrier right in the way of Yasmin's sword. He pushed forwards, and whipped his heel around to strike Yasmin right in the face.

...Well played, sir.

Well played.

Those were Yasmin's thoughts as Juras's heel came crashing into her face, snapping her head back and sending her tumbling down to land flat on her ass in the sand. And that wasn't all that landed in the sand, for blood was pouring from her nose and leaving bright red dots against the gold even as she clutched her face with her other hand, and she let out a groan as she started to stagger back to her feet--

And wondered if a broken nose counted as first blood.

Juras took a few steps back, wiping his heel off on the sand. That motion left a faint red streak on the sand, and Juras smiled.

It took the crowd a few moments to process what he'd done, but once it registered, they burst into ecstatic cheering. The fight organizer stood up from his seat in the private booth.

The Longknife was announced the winner by first blood.

Juras didn't seem to be paying attention to that, though. Instead, he approached Yasmin, and offered her a hand to help her stand.

"You fought well, Lionness."

It was rather childish of Yasmin, but...

Sometimes, she couldn't help herself.

As soon as Juras got close enough to offer her his hand, Yasmin flashed him a bloody-mouthed smile and clasped his hand in hers. "Thanks, Longwife!" she said--

And promptly hooked both feet around both of his, and yanked them out from under him so he could join her in the sands.

Juras might've allowed himself to be suckered into that maneuver, but at least his fall was graceful. He landed square on his back, but he played it off like it was intentional. When he landed, he had his hands behind his head, staring up at the empty blue sky.

The crowd had a laugh at it, so did Juras.

He flashed a look at her, face caught in a smirk.

"You done?"

Yasmin, too, laughed, all too pleased at her own joke, though she gad to pause her giggles to spit out some of the blood that ran into her mouth. She wiped at her nose with the neck of her tunic, but of course that did little to staunch the flow, so she finally gingerly pinched it shut.

At his question, she smirked. "Hmm. For now. Maybe. No promises, though. I don't make those." And with a sore grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and gave the crowd a cheerful wave and a blown kiss.

Juras kipped up, and he raised his own fist up victoriously. The crowd cheered for the two gladiators.

He turned back to Yasmin.

"Where do they keep you?"

"On the east side," Yasmin said, and shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. "Why do you ask?"

Juras narrowed his eyes playfully.

"To bring you a drink, of course."

It was beckoned for them to go their separate ways, and Juras lingered a while before he started to walk away. He laughed.

"To help soothe that nose, Kitten!"

"KITTEN?!" Yasmin repeated incredulously, whirling on Juras with her one hand balled into a fist, but there were other fighters waiting to begin their own bouts and the spectators were beginning to grow impatient. With another exasperated stare at his back, she turned back around and marched through the portcullis.

Ooooh. Yeah. No. Nope! That was definitely not going to fly!

She headed out into the Colosseum and stopped briefly by the little medical clinic to get her nose cleaned and fixed up. After that, it was just a short walk to the east side of the Colosseum, where her own cell block was. She was allowed to remain in her room with her door unlocked, for Karame's men would be by later to collect her, and she had earned a reputation for not being a runner. Besides, with guards posted at every entrance and exit of the Colosseum, it would be impossible for a slave to escape, anyway.

She headed inside her room and started to strip off her armor and her soiled clothes, ready to change into fresh, clean ones that weren't splattered with nose blood.

Juras chuckled to himself, not bothering to turn and address Yasmin's exasperation. Hey, if she couldn't take a little name-calling, then she shouldn't have been dishing it out!

Juras dusted his back off. Apart from that, though, he was more or less clean. He'd barely broken a sweat out there, and as his only fight for the day, he was disappointed. Juras wasn't exactly a fan of killing people, but first-blood combats were far too short for his own liking.

He might not have liked killing people, but he did love to fight.

Either way, there was the matter of that drink to attend to.

Between walking to the Colosseum's built-in tavern, waiting for that jug of ale, walking over to the east side, and asking about for Yasmin's cell, he arrived just as she was getting changed.

With curiosity, he noticed that her cell door was kept unlocked. Despite his piqued curiosity, Juras decided it'd be better to knock first. Jug in one hand, cups in the other, he tapped the door with his foot.

Of course, he'd forgotten that the cell doors in the colosseum open inwards, and not outwards.

The door swung open suddenly, of course right when she just shed her armor and clothes and was standing there naked with a fresh tunic in hand. Yasmin jumped about a mile, startled by the loud bang and the swinging door and her heart lunged into her throat because who the bloody fuck was barging in?!

Her first instinct wasn't modesty. It was self-preservation.

She snatched up her heavy, armored belt and whirled around, snapping it out at the intruder's face, a blow that could easily bruise and cut, but then she saw who it was in mid throw--and she jerked it to the side instead, so it cracked against the door instead of Juras's face.

"Have you heard of KNOCKING?!"

Juras stood there, completely still. Frankly, if he was going to take an armored belt to the face like this, he was pretty sure he deserved it. When it didn't hit him, however, he played it off like he knew it was going to miss.

He smiled, half-charismatic, half sheepish.

"Well, I tried to knock with my foot, but I didn't know your door was unlocked!" He said, standing his ground.

"Of course it's unlocked! Half the doors in this block are unlocked! You still don't just go barging in! Hakeshna, I could have--!"

Yasmin took a deep breath and ran a hand through her short, curly hair. If there was one thing she hated, it was surprises. Sudden movements, people jumping up behind her even as a joke--those who did it with her rarely did it again, because she never reacted well. And she couldn't help it. She had spent so much time here fighting for her life--inside and outside the arena, for even everyday Colosseum life could be fraught with dangers--that sudden movements and sneaky actions were instantly perceived as dangerous threats. Even now it took her a moment to fight down the surge of adrenaline that had rushed through her, making her breathing shaky and hands tremble.

She let her breath out slowly and forced a smile. Just smile! Be silly, upbeat Yasmin! "Whew! Just. Be careful. Alright? Jeez. Nearly gave me a heart attack there, and I'd be pretty irked if I went by heart attack after all this! Do you know how embarrassing that'd be? I'm barely in my twenties, I'm too young for that!"

With another breath in and out, she snatched up her clothes again, now calm enough to feel embarrassed. She turned away to hide her rising blush and quickly started to wriggle into her long kilt. "Uh. So. What did you bring?"

"What part of "I tried to knock" didn't you get? It was a bit awkward, balancing on one foot and trying to knock with the other. I'd like to see you try it."

He said it with a smile, trying to keep the tone positive, because he saw the tremble that went through her. He was curious, because she seemed too young to be shellshocked. Then again, perhaps she was just the right age.

Because Juras remembered how he used to be.

"I brought some ale," he said, and held a cup out to her, although he'd yet to fill it with the jug.

"Who taught you to fight?"

"I bet I could pull it off," Yasmin said with a snort as she yanked on her clean tunic. When she was properly dressed, she turned back around to face him, absently straightening her tunic.

"Agrian (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=16559) taught me how to fight. Saved my life, really," she said as she took a cup and waited for him to fill it. "Who taught you? And why do you do it? Shits and giggles and murdering people?"

"Agrian... Yeah, I've heard the name," Juras said. He looked around in vain for a chair, before remembering, with a little bit of silent embarrassment, that this was a slave's cell.

So, he filled her cup, and went to take a seat at the edge of her bed. He set the jug down on the ground, but not before filling his own cup.

Then, came Yasmin's question. He smiled, but there was something off about it.

"I taught myself to fight when I was eleven. Been fighting since. All I know, really."

He looked up to her. Her little bit about murdering people and doing it for fun struck a nerve with him. Just because he was a volunteer gladiator, everybody loved to assume that he did it because he was some kind of bloodthirsty maniac.

It was a presumption that warmed his blood, no matter how many times he heard it.

"Huh. So that why? Funny. It's all I've known for a good while and you sure couldn't pay ME to stay if I ever got an out."

She took a seat on her bed as well, and took a long swig of the ale. Damn. It had been a while since she'd had that, but she felt like she needed it. "Money that good?" she asked with a raised brow.

Yeah, Yasmin was judging the shit out of him

"No, it isn't."

Another swig.

"Colosseum likes to sell volunteers short. Bad enough they force slaves to fight for profit, but they squeeze all they can out of the people who've made fighting their living."

He straightened up, and looked at Yasmin. Behind the smile, there was a certain tiredness. A momentary glimpse of the man behind the show and swordsmanship.

"I'm not saying I have it as bad as a slave, just that it isn't exactly a rose garden either."

"You wanna trade with me?" Yasmin asked, scooting back on her cot so she could rest her back against the wall. The look she gave him was utterly unimpressed.

Maybe it wasn't fair, but from where she was sitting, she'd much rather be living penniless on the streets than kill another person.

Much less be a slave.

"I mean, come on. You at least get the choice. You could get another job, Longknife. You just choose not to."

"I could, but what'd be the point? Sure, I might earn the same, or even more taking up a trade or working in a foundry, but I've invested so much of my life into this that it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be satisfying."

He smiled. He shifted so he could rest his back on the wall as well, and he brought the jug of ale up with him, so they could both fill their cups at their leisure.

"I'm fifty-four years old, Lionness. I may not look it, but I've got my elven blood to thank for it. I've been fighting for my life since I was eleven. I can't just... stop. It's a part of me."

"Fifty-four?" Yasmin repeated, choking on a sip of ale. "Holy shit, Longwife! You don't look half bad for an old fart!"

"Perks of being a half-elf. I'm barely an adult!" Juras chuckled. He always liked watching people react to hearing his true age. He took another sip, and rested his hands on his abs.

"Yeah, yeah, wrinkly old man!" Yasmin snorted--and found, with a flash of irritation, that she was slipping. She wasn't supposed to be laughing along with this guy. She was supposed to be hating his guts.

Hating everything he represented.

She sobered, and crossed her arms over her chest with a scowl. "Hmph. So you're old. Must mean you've killed a lot of people, eh?"

"Killed a lot of people. Lost a lot of friends," Juras said.

"I've only been a gladiator for a couple years, and thankfully, I haven't had to kill anyone yet. Before, though, I was a mercenary, in an army-for-hire."

Juras seemed to sober up a bit as well. That is, until he took another drink.

"I was in my first battle at seventeen."

"It was eighteen for me," Yasmin said and took another sip. A gladiator for two years and no kills? That must be nice, to be able to choose what fights he participated in. To get to choose whether he killed or didn't. She glanced down at the cup she held, and at the fingers holding it, each black line banding them representing a life lost. A life she'd taken.

She swallowed down the rest of her ale and realized, with a sting of bitterness, that it wasn't entirely dislike that she felt toward Juras. It was jealousy.

"You win it?"

"We won, yes. Didn't feel like it..."

Juras sipped down the rest of his ale, and took up the jug to refill their cups.

"forty-five dead on our side, fifty-seven on the enemy's. Three of those my friends... It was a slaughter."

"...Damn," was all Yasmin said to that. She figured if he wanted to elaborate, he would--but otherwise she wasn't going to press. She didn't like it when people asked for details when it came to her own battles, so she figured it would be equally uncomfortable for others.

Well, for others who didn't delight in death and mayhem.

Instead, she took another sip. "You never really win, do you? Even when you technically do."

"Yeah..."

Juras sighed.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, there's a certain thrill to the fight, it's just... taking a life is heavy thing."

"You don't have to tell me that," Yasmin said, glancing down at her marked fingers again. She gave a small shudder, visible in the way it made her shoulders hitch.

With a sigh, she frowned up at him. "Look, I'm gonna admit it, maybe I sorta misjudged you a little. You're, uh...not really like some of the other volunteers I've met." Her frown turned to a scowl. "Bloody sadists, the lot of them."

"Thanks," Juras said, and shot her a grin as he took a swig of his ale. There was still plenty left in the jug! The drinking had been slowed down by other concerns.

"And yeah, some of those guys are real monsters. I'd know, I'm The Executioner's next-door neighbor."

The Executioner was an infamous volunteer gladiator. A start-up, like Juras, but a start-up willing to spill endless amounts of blood to please both the crowd and himself. His favored weapon was a guillotine blade fastened to a haft, with a spike chain in his free hand.

"Most of us are just trying to make it big, though, or make a living."

Yasmin paled visibly at the mention of The Executioner. She'd never seen him in action, thank Hakeshna, but she'd heard the stories. Heard anything he was involved in was spectacularly gory, that he was known, even, to torture his opponents before killing them. To pull out their intestines while they were still living and--

She took another long gulp of ale to wash down the bile rising in her throat.

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" she said, and set her cup down.

"Let's!"

Juras peered into his cup, and finished off whatever was inside. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed. The ale wasn't the best, but the cups were large, and all that quantity counted for something!

He looked over to her, and tilted his head a bit.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Uhhh...good question!" Yasmin said with a snort before she added with a lame smile, "Er...favorite color?"

"Yellow," Juras said, and he crossed one leg over the other.

"Definitely yellow."

"Yeah? Why yellow?" Yasmin asked, watching him curiously. "It's not exactly a popular color."

Juras smirked.

"I don't care if it's not popular. I like it!"

He laughed a bit.

"It's just got so much energy to it. You might miss something colored red or purple, but yellow? It always catches the eyes."

"Yeah, energy. The kind of energy that burns your eyes!" Yasmin said with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, my favorite color's red. Like the blood of my enemies."

"Or, perhaps, a rose in bloom?" Juras added, and he grinned at her.

"Regardless, red's pretty nice. A very powerful color."

"Pfffft, it was a joke. Y'know, stereotypical warrior answer," Yasmin said with a snort, and stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm actually most fond of green. It's pretty! Y'know, fresh plant life and all that, regrowth, rebirth, whatever."

[Wow I just realized I wrote Herrick for that last part. I guess a bit of my brain hasn't forgotten Lionness and The Leopard :I]

Juras nodded, and let out a thoughtful hum.

"It's a rare color out here."

He took a swig of his ale.

"Thinking about fresh plant life is making me hungry. I could go for some vegetable right about now..."

Yasmin made a face at that. "Well, if you manage to snag something, bring me some. Unlike you free fighters, I don't eat until I'm allowed to eat."

"Know what?" Juras said, and he smiled at her.

"Maybe I will bring you something. It's too late today, but..."

He shrugged.

"Tomorrow?"

"What? Really?" Yasmin said, having not expected that response--mostly because she hadn't expected him to want to see her again. Friends were hard to come by here; her only friend had always been Agrian, and he was the only one he'd let in to any degree. And Juras, a voluntary fighter...

Ugh. She wanted to hate him, and yet she couldn't. He wasn't like the other ones, the ones that fought and killed for pleasure. He was no sadist.

Still, this was risky. Friends meant vulnerability. Though maybe she was jumping to conclusions? It was just a drink. Just a meal.

"If you bring me falafel, I'll love you forever."

"Falafel it is," Juras said, and he patted her on the shoulder as he stood up.

"See you tomorrow, Kitten."

Yasmin let out a strangled laugh and punched Juras in the arm as he passed.

"Don't keep me waiting, Jur-ass!"

"I won't."

Juras smiled, and exited her cell.

The rest of the day was uneventful, right on into the night and morning. It was boring, as usual, and she slept in a little later than she had planned on--

And woke up to one of her usual nightmares.

Fortunately, it wasn't the screaming sort, which was a small blessing. She hated when people overheard that, hated the night terrors, and even though she hadn't come awake violently, she was still covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Sitting up in her cot, she splashed some water on her face and took deep breaths to calm down, even though her heart was racing like kaadir on the hunt as she relived, yet again, one of her many Colosseum matches and half expected to find blood on her hands and blood spilling from her back.

Juras returned home, doing his evening stretches and settling down to sleep with his belly full of vegetable soup. Sure, his past had its share of gruesome moments, but, perhaps through experience or through sheer fortune, he was never plagued by nightmares.

At least, not frequently.


When he woke up, he checked his calendar, and when he saw that he didn't have any fights scheduled for that day, he got up and did his morning stretches. After that, it was to the market to get some falafel for two.

Yasmin had been too tired after the fight to worry about cleaning up, but with some time to spare and no idea as to when Juras would be around, she made a quick stop at the communal baths to wash up. She had no extra clothes, though, so she wound up wearing the same ones as before, but at least she was clean beneath them.

And then she headed back to her cell to wait. Maybe the guy wouldn't come. She didn't actually expect him to return, and wouldn't fault him if he didn't.

Friendships didn't generally last long here.

Roughly around fifteen minutes after she started to wait in her cell, Juras arrived.

This time, his hair was done in a ponytail, and he wore a sheer red tunic that was open in the chest so he could both show off his body and his scars. He was quite proud of both of those things, and hey, if you've got it, why not flaunt it?

He had a small straw basket in one hand, filled with fresh falafel, and he gave the door a few knocks.

"You in, Yasmin?"

Yasmin had just started to doze off on her cot when a knock jolted her awake. She jerked upright, heart hammering anew, and her mind leaped into narrowing down who it could be and that she'd had no scheduled fights that she knew of when a familiar voice called her name.

...Juras?

She ran her fingers through her short, curly hair and let out a breath, composing herself, before she stood and swung the door open. With a cocky little smile, she leaned against the frame and looked him over. "And here I thought you might be a no-show."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, kitten," Juras said, and he held up the basket.

"Fallafel?"

"You actually got it?" Yasmin blurted before she could help it, eyes on the basket, before she stepped back to let him inside. "Holy shit. I didn't actually expect...I mean..."

She shifted awkwardly and scratched the back of her neck. "Uh...wow. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Juras said, beaming at the reaction he got out of her.

He stepped inside of her cell.

"So, how was your day?"

"Boring," Yasmin said as she flopped down onto her cot and scooted over to give him room to do the same. "So how about we talk about your day instead, and while you talk, I stuff my face? Sound good to you? Because it sounds great to me!"

And without ceremony, she grabbed a falafel ball and popped it in her mouth.

Juras plopped down next to her, close enough so that the side of his leg touched hers.

"Well, I woke up, worked out. Didn't have any fights today," Juras started, and he looked over to Yasmin. He ate a falafel as well.

"There was a fistfight in the market."

"With the number of fights that just break out naturally, it's a wonder we still need the coliseum!" Yasmin said around another bite of falafel. She swallowed it down and shoved another bite in.

Looking over at him, she lifted an eyebrow. "Were ya involved?" she teased.

"No, fortunately. The last thing I need's trouble with the guards."

Juras watched her scarf down the falafel, and he took another piece for his own.

"You a big fan of falafel?"

Indeed, of the two of them, Yasmin was putting away the most of their shared meal. She looked over at Juras, cheeks puffy from the food in her mouth, then snorted and swallowed down her bite, pounding her chest a few times to get it down.

"Oh, honey. I'm a big fan of aaaanything that's not the slop they feed us slaves!" she said, picking up another ball and bouncing it in her palm. "Dunno about you, mister spoiled volunteer, but I don't get this stuff everyday."

"Neither do I, honey" Juras said.

"I mostly keep my diet to fruits and vegetables," Juras said.

"Ain't exactly high cuisine."

"What?" Yasmin gasped, placing a hand to her heart. "You're telling me you don't feast on beef and roast duck daily? How dare you shatter my assumptions!"

"Beef and roast duck?" Juras repeated incredulously.

"You're kidding, right? I haven't even seen any live ducks here, let alone a roast one."

"Oh, well, you know." Yasmin waved a hand. "You volunteers are just supposed to be loaded with coin! And here I thought if I schmoozed enough..."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Juras stuck his toungue right back at her.

"Sure as hell would like to find the guy who told you that," Juras said.

"I mean sure, some volunteers are famous, and they dine with merchant princesses, bathe in molten gold, and wrestle hippos with their cocks," Juras said.

He ate a fallafel.

"The rest of us slags get the undercards. I mean, you can always sign a contract with the colosseum, and it guarantees you better placement and more coin, but then they own your ass. I'm willing to bet a few of the slaves down here are contracted volunteers who either tried to skip town or wanted to put their weapons down early."

What a colorful way of putting things. Definitely created some interesting mental images!

Yasmin snickered and shook her head. "So you one of the ones with a stamp on your butt cheek? 'Property of Some Noble Ass, if found, return to Pretentious-Sounding Locale'?"

"Don't even joke about that, there're guys out there who actually do have tattoos from their sponsors," Juras said.

"And no, I don't have a contract. Or a sponsor. I'm just a half-elf with a sword, trying to get by," Juras said, although there was some joking in his tone.

"Ugh, really? I thought that only happened to slaves," Yasmin said with a scowl of distaste. "Gross. Why would they brand themselves like cattle?"

"Yeah, apart from the fact that normal cattle don't get to feast at the farmer's table, or enjoy the company of the farmer's women," Juras said, the disdain clear in his voice.

"I had a sponsor once. Fat fuck by the name of Ghali. I can't lie, it was a pretty good deal, but..."

Juras sighed.

"Well, now you know why I don't like sponsors."

Yasmin eyed Juras through squinted eyes, brows drawn down skeptically. "None of what you just said sounds remotely terrible," she said, genuinely confused. "But, y'know, you gotta remember..."

She made a sweeping motion at herself. "Slave. My tolerance for 'shittiness' might be a little more liberal than most."

"Well, uh, let me clarify, then!" Juras said, and he turned to face her better.

"It all looks like a good deal on the outside, but once you sign your life away, these sponsors just see you as a sack of money. They'll use you up for what you're worth, and throw you away once you're not worth anything for them."

A few moments of silence.

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

Yeeeah, their conversation kept getting all dark fast. Which, Yasmin thought, only made sense because...well...slave. Her life was dark. But it was that darkness that made her want to cherish the light all the more, to laugh, to have fun. Moping and griping wasn't her style, because it was either laugh or cry and she chose to laugh.

After all, life was short, and a slave's life was even shorter.

She took a quick swig from the jug and nodded. "Sooo...didja hear about that big stink at the Colosseum a while back?" she asked, picking at a ball of falafel. She was mostly full now, but couldn't quite stop eating it--especially since she didn't know when she'd get something so tasty again! "Y'know, the one fighter that refused to kill the other? Even though she was beat? With the Shah in the audience?"

She took another swig. "Heh, I was there. In the pit, I mean."

[So like Juras and Yasmin are gonna ship, right? 8D 8D 8D]

"Oh, I heard all about it," Juras chuckled. He ate a falafel.

"I had some fights the day afterwards. The fight organizer was redder than a goddamn tomato," Juras.

[Psssssht, do ships sail? 8D]

"Pfffft, glad to know we made an impression! Embarrassing as that was." After all, Yasmin had been the loser in that scenario--and Agrian, thank Hakeshna, had proven to be her friend above all else by sparing her life. That act of mercy had nearly gotten them both executed, but for whatever reason, the Shah had punished their masters instead.

That had been a month or so ago, but apparently it had been a big enough move it was remembered.

Yasmin grinned broadly, chest puffed out with pride. Hey, even if she had been the loser there, at least she was kind of a winner, too! "Good times!" she said. "Nothing I love more than pissing off those pricks."

[Awww yissssss]

"Oh yeah, pretty much everybody in charge of the colosseum's either bloodsucker or an asshat," Juras said, and he leaned back so that he was across her bed and leaning against the wall, stretching out his abs and arms.

"Did you see the fight between that scaly girl and the hippo? The scaly girl with the bladed tail?" Juras asked.

"She's a slave here, I think. All I know is that the slavemasters just picked her up a few weeks ago. Got her from a slaver raid."

"I didn't see it, but I heard about it," Yasmin said--and oh yes, she had heard a lot about that! About her strangeness, her exoticism, her sheer inhuman strength. But mostly, all Yasmin had felt was a deep since of sadness and sympathy as she was talked of like she was an animal, and she felt that pang again when Juras mentioned how she'd been...acquired.

"Fuckers," she hissed. "Bunch of kidnappers, the lot of them."

"Poor girl," Juras said, and his smile dropped  for a few moments.

He looked to Yasmin, and then at the basket of falafels. He grinned.

"Full already?"

Yasmin laid a hand over her belly and let out a loud belch, then grinned widely over at Juras and plucked up one last falafel.

"Nah, I just had to make more room," she said before she popped it in her mouth, though she groaned after she swallowed it down.

"Okay, now I'm fresh outta room. Oww..."

Juras nodded at the belch.

"Nice," he said, and he ate another falafel

"I hope you aren't exercising or anything later today. It'd be pretty embarrassing to have all of that come back up."

"If anything, it could be a good distraction," Yasmin said with a wry grin. "I'd like to see how a big, buff, mighty gladiator recovered from being projectile vomited in the face."

She leaned back, folding her arms behind her head as she stretched. "Be memorable at least."

"Don't ask me how I know how it feels, but that shit burns," Juras said, and he gave her a wry smile.

And a rather subtle glancing over. Because damn him, she looked good.

Yasmin barked a laugh at that and tossed a look his way. "Did you receive or deal?" she asked with a snicker, before she noticed the way he was looking at her.

She blinked several times. "What?"

Juras's eyes snapped to Yasmin's.

"Oh, nothing. I was just trying to remember," Juras said. He grinned.

"I was receiving."

Yasmin snickered. "So one could say you got...BURNED! Hah, geddit?"

"Oh my Gods, don't even play with that!" Juras laughed.

"It was so nasty!"

"Duly noted, don't punch people in the gut, eh?" Yasmin flashed him a grin.

"So who came out on top?"

Juras returned her grin.

"Well, he hurled because I ran my sword through his guts, so yeah. There ya go."

Yasmin made a face, wrinkling her nose. "Oh. Well. In that case, I can't say you didn't deserve it."

"Yeah. Of all the times to have my helmet visor up," Juras said, and he looked to Yasmin.

"What about you, Kitten? I'm sure you've got some embarrassing arena moments."

"Aaahaha, I don't know what you're talking about. Me? Embarrassing arena moments? I've been a poised beast from day one!"

"Have you?"

Juras scooted towards her, leaning in a bit. Those sharp elven eyes of his narrowed.

"Have you really?"

"Yuuuuup," Yasmin said, shifting her eyes away. "Totally never pissed myself my first time in the arena."

"Damn, that's pretty rough."

Juras' expression straightened out, but he didn't lean away.

"I'm on the same boat as you. First time I went into battle as a mercenary had me scared pissless. I was sixteen then."

Yasmin rubbed the back of her neck, laughing awkwardly. "Yeeeah, uh...yeah. Heh. First time in the arena, I was eighteen, and I had like zero fighting experience. None. Completely green. I'd never even slapped a person. Another gladiator, Agrian, took pity on me though 'cause I was scared out of my mind, so he showed me some moves, gave me some tips."

She smiled sheepishly. "Those pointers saved my life that day, sure, but when they dragged me into the arena and I saw that lion, and saw the bodies of the people it had already shredded...yeah. I pissed myself. Everyone laughed. I was too scared to even be humiliated. Somehow, I don't really remember how, I killed that lion, though, and thankfully I got called the Lioness and not something else."

But then she snorted. "Though some of the other gladiators who remember that call me the Golden Lioness. Jerks. You ever call me that, I swear I'll tell everyone you wet yourself, too."

"Don't you worry, it'd be rather hypocritical of me, after all."

Juras relaxed, sighing. He found it easy to relax around this woman. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't had a good conversation with somebody who wasn't a dick in a very long time. There was something about her that the elven fighter just found agreeable.

"Anyways, you told me your story, now it's only fair I tell you mine. I was sixteen, I'd just signed on with a band of mercenaries after I decided I'd grown tough enough to make it off the streets. They gave me a sword, gave me a helmet, and told me to kill the other guy before he killed me."

Juras let out a breath at that, and he smiled, just a tad bit wistful.

"Our compant got hired in Adela. An orc tribe was getting uppity, and the crown wanted it put down. I remember standing there on the second line, watching as a horde of screaming greenskins came barreling through the woods at us, and the only thing standing between me and green death was the bosy of the guy in front of me."

Juras looked at her.

"Let me tell you, I pissed myself right there. Thankfully, nobody noticed."

"I'd wager they were probably all too busy soiling their own britches," Yasmin said, twitching slightly at the thought. It was bad enough to go one on one--or three on three or whatever the hell the officials thought would be fun that day--and that was nightmarish enough. Being in a full blown battle? Ugh...

She tossed him a curious look then. "Adela, eh? You've been all over, huh?"

"Well, I was born Adelan," Juras said. He stretched out, his abs poking out from beneath his light tunic.

"My mercenary days took me around Connlaoth and Serendipity, and I got my start as an arena fighter in Thanatos."

Juras brushed some of his hair aside.

"I was a pit fighter there."

"Thanatos," Yasmin repeated, trying to think of what she knew about it--which wasn't much, and which always sounded to her like the wild fantasies of lustful men.

"Man. I've only ever been stuck here, and it sounds like you've lived like four lifetimes. That must be nice. I'm jealous."

Juras smiled a bit at her compliment.

"Half-elves are long lived," Juras said.

"I mean, look at me. I'm fifty-four years old, and I don't look a day above twenty."

He gave her a glancing over again.

"You don't look half bad yourself."

"Well, that's 'cause I actually AM twenty. Well, twenty-three. No hidden ages here!" Yasmin said, motioning to herself. "I'm just a plain ol' human."

"Oh, I knew you were twenty-something, I can tell just by lookin'," Juras said, and he shot her a grin.

"I was just saying you look good."

"Oh, well, I know I don't look--oh." Yasmin cut off, a sudden blush warming her cheeks.

"OH. Wait, what?"

Juras chuckled.

"I said that you look good, Kitten."

Yeah. That's what she thought she heard him say.

Yasmin cleared her throat. "Okay, like, good as in good or good as in..." She waggled her eyebrows and winked suggestively. "Good."

"Well, actually let me take the chance to say that you look good as in the first one. Take it however you want it, but you take real good care of yourself," Juras said.

"But, uh..."

He waggled his eyebrows right back at her, and winked.

"You look good, too. I really like your fighting as well."

Was he...was he flirting with her? Yasmin stared at him with raised eyebrows, half disbelieving. Oh, she'd had men hit on her before--if crude, demeaning catcalls could be called that. But she never felt that was flirting so much as an attempt to put her in her place and intimidate her. It certainly wasn't attention she wanted.

Flirting, though? She wasn't sure what that really looked like. And she had gotten used to the fact that other people didn't really see her as a woman, but just as a slave and animal. Agrian had sort of flirted with her before, but she had just thought it was teasing. She just didn't think of herself as...well...

Desireable, she supposed. Loveable.

Finally, she broke her stare by barking a laugh. Ah, there it was. He liked her fighting. So they were back in familiar terrain.

Not that she was hoping for anything different.

"Pffft, you better like it. You may have technically won, but I took you DOWN!"

Juras chuckled a bit more at that, and his eyes returned to hers. He scooted a bit closer.

"Yeah, sorry about the nose," Juras said, and he brushed his hair back. He gave her a challenging look.

"Bet you can't take me down again."

"Hah. Haaaahahaha! HAH." Yasmin punched his shoulder--hard--and grinned widely. "Whatcha willing to bet, eh? Because you're gonna have to back that big talk up, Jur-ass."

Juras returned her grin.

"If you beat me, I'll bring you falafel and ale every day."

Yasmin's eyebrows rose. "For how long?"

"Uhh..."

Juras glanced about.

"Two weeks."

Yasmin's smile grew. "Three."

"Three weeks, then," Juras said, returning her look confidently.

"And what if I win, hmm?"

"Uhhh..."

Good question.

Yasmin cast a look around her bare quarters, then back at Juras with a slight flush of shame. "I, uh...can offer you...bragging rights?" she suggested with a lame smile and a shrug. "Oh, or maybe this shirt!" she said, plucking at the one she was wearing--worn and old and unwashed. She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose.

"It's a pretty nice shirt."

Juras' eyes wandered to her shirt. It didn't take a social genius to see the trepidation in his eyes.

"How about a kiss?" he said.

"W-what?"

Yasmin blurted the words, recoiling in surprise and a little alarm, her face going hot. Whoa! She couldn't have heard him correctly!

"Come again?"

This time, it was Juras' turn for his smile to get larger.

"If you win, I bring you falafel and ale every day for three whole weeks," Juras said.

"If I win, you gotta give me a kiss."

Granted, when he framed it like that, it was ridiculously low risk on her end with the potential for a huge reward. Still, she couldn't help but be a little flustered, even as she tried to rein it in like the hardened warrior she was. She was a gladiator! She'd spilled men's intestines all over the sand, and knew a thousand creative, colorful ways to swear. She didn't get all blushy like some innocent maiden over a kiss.

And fuck no was she going to admit that she had never been kissed before, and that she was one of the lucky slaves that had managed to remain untouched.

That protecting herself was what had landed her in the Colosseum in the first place.

She cleared her throat. Whatever. Wasn't like she was going to lose. There was no way she was missing out on ale and falafel for weeks.

"Fine," she said with a wry grin. "Hope you saved up, because this is gonna cost you!"

Juras knew it was low-risk, high-reward on Yasmin's end, but honestly, he didn't care. She was a slave, and she was pretty cool, so he wouldn't even mind bringing her falafel and ale on a daily basis. He found that he rather liked taking to her.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, before Juras cleared his throat.

"So I guess we better get to it, huh?"

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," Yasmin said with a snort, and reached up to gingerly prod her sore nose. "Just maybe try not to get me in the nose again, yeah? I'm still healing! And I don't want a crooked nose! I wanna keep these gorgeous good looks as long as I can."

She stuck her tongue out at him, then rose to her feet and pat her full belly.

"Hrm. Though maybe it's not such a great idea just yet. I mean unless you're down with another vomit bath."

"Oh, yeah," Juras said, and his expression actually turned a bit sheepish.

"Do they let you into the sparring area? We could meet up there in a few hours, then."

"Oh, sure. I'm on good behavior, so my cell's unlocked. Not like I could actually leave the Colosseum. There's guards at every turn."

She stretched, then plopped back down onto her cot. "Sundown sound good to you?"

"See you then, Yasmin," Juras said, and he stood up. He left the remaining falafels with her, and gave her a parting smile before he left.

Yasmin wrapped the remaining falafel in a spare shirt, and hit it under her measly pillow. Then, feeling strangely nervous, she did her best to nap off her meal. She would need the rest to perform well later and...well...

Guh. So strange to be nervous about this, the most benign fight she would ever have! But it was a different sort of nerves. Her other fights were for survival, or for money awarded to her master. This would be the first fight she ever participated in that was done for her own potential reward. Huh. Maybe it wasn't so much nerves as anticipation and excitement. She'd never done a match where she could actually win something, and win something nice. Never had a match been fun.

It was a different sort of feeling.

When the time came, she rose and headed for the practice yard. She didn't bother with armor, nor did she bring her weapons; this was only a friendly sparring match, after all, and there were plenty of wooden swords there to fight with. She got there a little early, since she always preferred that to being late, and took a seat in the sand with a wooden sword laid across her knees as she waited.

Juras arrived on time, give or take a few minutes. he was wearing a different tunic now. It wasn't as sheer as the one he was wearing before, but it was open down the middle, so it was more akin to a vest than anything else. He also had his hair done up in a bone, to prevent any unwarranted grabbing.

He saw Yasmin, and smiled, walking over to her.

"I hope you've napped off those falafels," Juras said, and he sat down right in front of her.

"You good to start?"

With a cocky grin, Yasmin stretched her arms over her head, arching until her spine crackled, then hopped nimbly to her feet. "Pffft, I'm good to go! I promise I won't puke in your face if you don't puke in mine."

Walking to the opposite end of the sand pit, she twirled her sword and motioned to the rack of wooden weapons nearby. "Pick your poison, Jur-ass," she said with a grin.

"Fair rules to spar by," Juras said, and he got up onto his feet as well.

He took a look at the wooden weapons, and then back to Yasmin.

"Why don't you lose the wooden sword and we do this hand-to-hand? No low-blows and shots above the neck work for you as rules?"

Yasmin glanced at the sword, then shrugged and sent it skittering across the sand and out of the ring.

"Works for me," she said, and cracked her knuckles and neck with a grin. "Haven't had a chance to get all handsy in ages!"

Juras grinned at her words.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Juras said, and he dropped into a stance, a Thanati fighting style that put emphasis on grapples and strikes with the knees and elbows..

"Let's get handsy."

Yasmin didn't know any formal styles; she only knew the quick and dirty fighting that came in life and death situations, and bits and pieces of the Essyrni styles other gladiators had shared with her.

She bent her knees as she lowered into a grappling stance, slowly beginning to circle Juras--before she came in fast with a kick to his legs and a punch aimed at his middle.

Juras's keen elven eyes followed her as she came in, pupils widening slightly to take all of her in.

The kick came at his leg and Juras raised a knee up to block, then he blocked the punch at his midesction, deflecting it while allowing her to still follow through and keep her momentum in order to create an opening.

To retaliate, he grabbed her by the arm and shoulder and tried to take her down.

Juras grabbed her arm and shoulder, and Yasmin wasted no time in twisting her body sharply and bringing her other arm down hard against his to break the lock and jerk free. But she didn't wait to give him a chance to follow through, aiming a swift, hard kick to his shin.

Juras was pleasantly surprised with her as she kept up with him. Juras had that elven grace and agility, however, so he liked to think he had the advantage.

He shifted back on his feet to dodge her kick, and he grinned at her, giving her a chance to follow through so he could counter.

Oh, that grin was infuriating, but Yasmin aimed another punch for his chest and again at his ribs, not really intending to connect so much as drive him back and keep his arms up--so she could bring her leg up in a roundhouse kick that dragged a cloud of sand up with it.

She hoped either it got in his eyes of her kick got him. She'd be happy with either.

Indeed, Juras did raise his hands to block her strikes, but rather than try to dodge away from her kick, Juras went in for the takedown. He moved in and caught her kick underneath his arm (it stung, and would probably bruise, but it was better than sand in the eye!). His arm was wrapped around her thigh, and in a swift motion, he planted the other on her chest, just beneath her breasts, and swept her other foot out with his free leg.

If the takedown worked, Yasmin would be on the ground with Juras straddling the leg he wasn't holding and her upper body pinned to the ground by his weight. If it didn't, well...

Juras was curious to see where they'd end up if it didn't.

"Ah!" Yasmin yelped, genuinely surprised--and thoroughly thrown off balance beyond repair. Before she knew it, she was on the ground, the breath knocked out of her lungs as her back hit the hot sand.

Herrick took his hand off of Yasmin's torso, but he still held her leg. He actually stopped grinning, and his mouth went to more of a smile.

"Yeah, not so easy this time, hmm?" he said.

"So, you wanna try for best two of three, or just give me my kiss now?"

With a laugh, Yasmin pushed Juras off of her and rolled onto her feet.

"Best two of three. I want my bloody falafel! Er, I want falafel, that is. Not bloody falafel. That'd be gross."

"I mean, I've heard of red sauce but damn, Yasmin. You take it to a whole new level," Juras teased.

"So, what's the weapon gonna be? Your choice."

Yasmin stuck her tongue out at him as she strode for the weapons rack. "I'm just saying I don't think the coppery notes would mingle well with the savory spaces of the falafel. Besides, blood curdles. It's better as a pudding than a sauce."

She twirled the sword and pointed it at Juras. "Swords this time. Just like I wanted in the first place! We'll see who's lucky this time."

"Blood pudding is just about the most disgusting thing I've ever heard" Juras said, and he picked out a wooden sword.

Juras looked down the "blade" of his sword, making sure it was straight before he lowered it to his side. He loosened up, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Don't worry, I'm a pretty good kisser."

"Pffft. Kisses are a copper a dozen. Good food, now...that's something I don't get everyday."

Yasmin lunged at him then, not giving him much time to prep, and came at him in a quick series of jabs and thrusts.

"You wound me, Yas--"

He cut off when she came at him, needing his focus to block her consecutive strikes as they came. He gave up as little ground as possible, but he was still edging towards the arena's boundary. He parried her hard on her last swing and simply stepped to the side, focused purely on not getting knocked out of the arena.

Yasmin, on the other hand, was focused on knocking him out of it as soon as possible. She kept at him, not wanting to give him the chance to go on the offensive, and when one thrust brought her in close, she kicked out toward his chest, hoping to connect and send him over.

All she needed was for him to just cross that line, just a little, and she was still in this.

Again, with the kicks! Sword strikes were a bit too quick for Juras to properly counter, but kicks?

He deflected her foot, and used that moment of unsteadiness to reverse the momentum and go on the offensive. His strokes were quick, quicker than hers.

Yasmin was learning from this, and learning Juras's style as she experimented. And one thing she was learning was...kicking him was a bad idea.

She staggered, hopped a step, and caught her balance just in time to parry his blows. But that was all she could do as he reversed their roles and she fell onto the defensive, his strikes so quick it was all she could do to deflect them, with no time to strike a blow of her own.

While Juras considered himself a proficient hand-to-hand combatant at best, he was in his element with swords, and that is where his experience and natural grace really showed. Juras' strikes and movements were more akin to a dance than anything else, with the sword switching between one and two handed strikes in the blink of an eye.

Yasmin considered herself good with a sword.

But she was going up against someone with two of her lifetimes worth of experience on her!

Teeth grit, she met him blow for blow, defending, forced back, but determined not to step outside the ring. For falafel! She needed it! And in a final move of desperation, she struck his blade hard to knock it back, then ducked out of the way and aimed a quick thrust for his hip.

Juras' sharp eyes missed nothing. Even as his sword wheeled back from the attack, he watched her duck down. He brought his sword down in a two-handed swing that would throw her thrust downwards and rushed forwards with his shoulder, intent on knocking her down.

Before Yasmin even realized what had happened, she was spitting out sand.

It took a moment for her to make the connection that...oh shit...

Oh SHIT...

Sprawled out on her side in the sand, shoulder aching where she'd been body checked, she stared up at Juras with wide eyes and wiped sand from her face.

Juras pout his sword against his shoulder, and he looked down at Yasmin. The look on her face was priceless, to say the least.

"Well, it looks like you owe me a total balance of one kiss," he said, smiling, even as he went to kneel by her.

"You alright? I know I probably just bruised you, but it doesn't hurt to check."

"I'm fine!" Yasmin said too quickly, as she sat up just as fast and leaned back away from him, her cheeks darkening with heat. She had been so focused on the prize and her pride, on winning, on earning a treat for herself for once (how sad was it that she was this invested in just earning a food most could afford for cheap?), that she hadn't stopped to consider losing. Or their terms.

But when Juras announced it, it all came flooding back to her in a wave of crippling embarrassment--and awkwardness.

Because she just...she didn't...

Oh man.

Of course she told people she had sex! She talked a big game and bragged about conquests she'd never had, and crassly at that, just for the sake of keeping her tough gal reputation and making herself undesirable, so that some people wouldn't get it in their heads to...fix her. That they wouldn't see her as some unattainable challenge, which would only put her at risk. Essyrni put a lot of value on "pure" women, so she wanted to make herself "impure" in their eyes. Needless to say, she'd never even kissed someone. And she didn't count her old master, since that had been taken, not shared.

It wasn't even that she was opposed to such things! Except that she had a hard time being vulnerable, or trusting anyone, or growing close to anyone, and and and...

This was so awkward.

This was opening up one awkward can of worms.

She rubbed her shoulder and rose to her feet. "Bruised, yeah, but uh...yeah, fine! So, hah, about that um kiss thing." She cleared her throat. "We talking like...a peck on the cheek or like 'tongue down the throat'?"

Oh, it was so much worse than Juras initially thought. At her embarrassment, Juras tried not to grin or chuckle, but he couldn't help but let out a snicker when she guessed at what kind of "kiss" he had in mind.

"Oh, nothing like that, Yasmin," Juras said.

They were alone there, so Juras stepped a bit closer.

"I was thinking somewhere around the middle," he said, and he leaned in to give her a solid kiss.

WELL OKAY THEN.

Juras gave her no warning, and so she had no time to overthink it, no time to be more nervous than she already was. It took her completely off guard and her eyes went wide in surprise as she felt his lips against her own, surprisingly soft and warm, his breath against her skin. She froze up completely like a cornered rabbit, her heart stopping, and mind blank save for a million racing thoughts of holy shit he's kissing me what the fuck do I do do I even do anything or is this how it goes oh shit.

She wound up just standing there, her face flushed and lips mashed against his.

And it was all the more mortifying that she actually found him attractive.

She wasn't the sort of girl attractive guys kissed!

Fortunately for Yasmin, while the kiss might have felt like it took aeons, it only took Juras around two seconds before he pulled back, a tiny hint of pink visible on his cheeks as well. When he saw just how paralyzed she was, his eyes widened up a bit, and that trademark smile reappeared.

"See? Not so bad."

Oh.

So that was...really all there was to it?

Yasmin blinked, still blushing, and then gave a light laugh to play off the situation. "Huh. That was it?"

"Well, wasn't much kissing on your part, but yeah, that's it!" Juras said.

"Unless you want another one?" he teased, leaning back in but not connecting their lips.

"Ahahaha!" Yasmin jerked back with a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck and looking away to hide her blush. And failing. Goddammit.

"I think one was the agreement! You got your kiss, I got no falafel, so no more kisses for you."

Juras smirked at her answer.

"Oh, sorry. You were blushing like you walked into the gladiator changing room, so I was under the impression you liked it," he teased.

"And if I bring you falafel anyways?"

"It's not a blush, it's heat from exertion, and--huh?"

Yasmin froze in mid-sentence and stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah. It's nice having someone to talk to around here who doesn't have their head up their ass, and honestly, you devoured those falafel so quick it almost makes me feel bad to deprive you of them," Juras said.

He took a step closer.

"And don't try to pull that crap on me, you were blushing. Your face was redder than a baboon's ass."

"Pfffft, well that's flattering, thanks! Always good to know I have ass-face, like if a gal had any worries about her looks already then man let's just toss baboon butt in there."

She put a hand on her hip. "So what if I was, anyway? You were kinda pink, too! And anyway, let's get back to the far more pressing topic of delicious, delicious food like when can I expect delivery, huh?"

"Well, it was an apt description of the color, nothing else. Like I said before, Yasmin. You look good."

He put a hand up.

"I got something tomorrow in the afternoon so you'll definitely see me at night," Juras said.

"Now stop trying to dodge around the question and admit that you liked the kiss."

Yasmin folded her arms over her chest, embarrassment making her stubborn as she flashed a cocky smile. Just play it cool, Yas.

"Well, I guess, I mean, it wasn't much of a kiss so it's not like I can really judge or anything."

"Oh," Juras said, and he crossed his arms as well. He was still smiling.

"Were you expecting to make out with me? Because I can totally arrange that as well," Juras said.

"What exactly constitutes a kiss, in your eyes?"

...Well that backfired spectacularly.

Yasmin let out a sputtering laugh at his make-out offer and rubbed her face with a hand.

"Yes, I guess technically that constitutes a kiss so I mean--" Jeez, she was just gonna dig herself a hole here. It wasn't like she had anything to really compare it to! "So yes! That was a kiss. That constituted a kiss. We kissed. It was fine!"

Oh, Juras wasn't going to let her go that easily.

"Technically?"

He stepped closer.

"You know, it sounds like you really didn't get a clear picture. Are you sure you don't want another? I'll take it slower, I promise."

Did she? Did she not?

Some part of her did. It was different and kind of new and exciting to be wanted. Most people didn't see her as a woman. They just saw her as a slave, a competitor, a conquest, a monster. Not as a person, not as desirable. It was...kind of nice to feel normal? But deep down, there was also still that fear of vulnerability, that uncertainty because she didn't really know him that well, and that concern that maybe soon the other shoe would drop. Assault, including sexual assault, wasn't uncommon here, and she'd done a good job protecting herself so far.

It was just a kiss, though. Out in the open, too. Wasn't like she was getting a lot of those, nor was getting any offers that weren't totally gross and offensive and threatening.

"Sounds like you really wanna kiss me again," Yasmin said with a smirk, still aiming for cool and collected and not totally out of her league.

Juras let out a little laugh at that.

"A pretty girl like you? Of course I wanna kiss you again," Juras said.

"I mean, wasn't that obvious?"

Fuck. She was blushing again.

And fuck. Yes it was obvious. She was just so not used to it!

"Oh," Yasmin said, blinking. He'd said he thought she looked good, but to be called pretty? Pretty was for people that weren't trained killers. Pretty was for delicate, lovable girls. Two things she had never felt, and yet the compliment flustered her nonetheless.

This still felt surreal, though, like...he could do so much better than her!

But she only rubbed the back of her neck and laughed. "Yeah, I don't blame you, everyone wants a piece of this so line right up and wait your turn. Which I guess no one else is in line so y'know. Your turn's up?"

"Lucky me," Juras said, glancing around as if searching for her fictional "line." Perhaps Yasmin's look may not be favored by every single man out in Essyrn (most, in his experience, preferred quiet young girls given to them in arranged marriages), but Juras had always had an attraction to women closer to Yasmin's general appearance.

And if they could fight, it was all the better!

"So," Juras started, and he stepped up to her.

"Why don't you show me how you kiss, then."

"Haaaah, see, yeah, that's, uh...that's the funny thing about all this," Yasmin said, heart beating a little faster as he got up in her space. Shit. Shit. She didn't know how to handle flirting, what the proper protocol was, how not to make an embarrassing ass of herself. She fought for her life on the regular, she was good enough at that that she was still alive, but basic level normal human being stuff?!

Shiiiiit.

She swallowed, and smiled sheepishly. "I...I don't? Kiss. I don't kiss. People. Or anything. And that does not leave this ring!"

"Relaaax," Juras said, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Your secret's safe with me. If you want a pointer, moving your lips helps a bunch. Kiss back, ya know?"

He gave her a friendly smile.

"Just close your eyes and don't worry about messing up or whatever. Just do what feels right," he added.

Well, damn. At least he was nice about it. That calmed her a little.

Yasmin took a deep breath. Well, whatever. This was good practice, she supposed, for the hundreds of suitors that were totally waiting for her! And it wasn't like she didn't want to kiss him. He'd proved to be Not An Ass, and...well...he was cute.

And it was nice having friends, afraid as she was of getting attached to anyone.

She hesitated a moment, and then closed her eyes and went for it--which, well, she probably shouldn't have closed her eyes first because she missed and hit the side of his mouth instead.

Juras quickly adjusted to catch her lips as she came in, and then he let his own eyes fall closed as they kissed. Unlike the first time, Juras just let the kiss linger, parting his lips against hers at an easy, slow pace for as long as she kept the kiss going.

It wasn't a very long kiss; only a couple seconds or so. Yasmin pressed her lips against his, letting hers part and move against his own and finding that...yeah, actually, that was better. Much nicer. It was slow and though she initiated, she followed Juras's lead, until finally she pulled back and opened her eyes again, her cheeks stained deep red against the darkness of her skin.

"Alright," she said with a nod, licking her lips. "I get it now."

Again, Juras had that light pinkness to his cheeks. He was on the other side of the spectrum from Yasmin, but that didn't mean that he was immune to getting blushy with folks he found attractive!

He tilted his head at her, and let one of his hands rest at her upper arm.

"Another one?"

"Pshhh. Now you're just getting greedy," Yasmin snorted, but despite her words, she briefly met his eyes. "Uh...yeah, sure."

Juras chuckled lightly, looking into Yasmin's eyes as he stepped just a bit closer, nothing but a few inches of air seperating their bodies as he decided to take the initiative again.

"Well, I've got the feeling you like giving, Kitten," Juras said, half-serious and half-joking.

He went in for a deeper kiss this time.

Oh man, they were alone right now, but what if someone walked by and saw this? Points toward her fake reputation, she supposed! Juras kissed her again, more deeply this time, and Yasmin made a startled sound in her throat--that was half quiet moan. That...okay, that was pretty nice, and her heartbeat only quickened as she went with it, even if she couldn't completely lower her guard. Her eyes were closed, but that just meant she was listening harder, body a little tense as though ready to spring away should things go south, though her mouth moved against his and she experimentally nibbled at his bottom lip.

Finally, she broke the kiss yet again and cleared her throat, arms crossed over her chest again. "Just had to doubke check that the other wasn't a fluke," she said, voice a little breathless.

"Yeah," Juras said, giving her a breathless smile. He brushed his hair back with a hand.

"You wanna go back to your room?" Juras asked.

"We can keep practicing there."

And at his words, Yasmin's eyes went wide, her face burning hot, as she took a quick step back from him and brushed away imaginary sand.

"Oh, ahaha, um, I don't think I'm really ready to go THAT far."

"Oh, that's not really what I meant, Yasmin," Juras said, putting a hand up.

"Nothing against you or anything, but if I get caught kissing a slave, it's going to be a hell of a scandal."

Oh...ouch.

There it was, cold hard reality sinking back in and reminding her of the facts: she was a slave.

One reason of many she kept her distance.

Still, it kinda hurt to hear it from his mouth.

Yasmin winced and took another step back, hurt and anger flashing in her eyes before she turned away. "Er...right. You're right, yeah. Wouldn't wanna ruin your reputation."

"Yasmin, wait," Juras said, resisting the temptation to step after her.

"I didn't mean for it to come out like that, it's just..."

He sighed.

"The slavemasters don't like seeing happy slaves. We just gotta be careful about it," Juras said, trying to reassure her.

Yasmin grit her teeth and scrubbed her fingers through her short-cropped hair. What he said was true, and part of her knew he probably didn't mean it like that--but harsh reality had slammed back in. She was a slave. He wasn't. Friendships were doomed here, not to mention anything else, and she knew how slaves were preyed upon by the free folk, anyway, who took advantage of their lack of power. Juras didn't seem the sort, but she was very abruptly and uncomfortably aware of their unequal power dynamic.

She thrust the wall back up, her shoulders tense and arms still crossed. "Be careful about what, exactly?" she said, throwing a glance his way. "Being kissing buddies? It's fine, Juras. I don't wanna be someone's practice, anyway."

Even as she said it, she hated it, knowing how harsh it was when she didn't really want to drive him away. She was lonely, but--but this was her life. Driving people away was a defense mechanism she'd learned throughout her time as a slave. It was better to keep her distance.

"First of all, you're the one who needs the practice," Juras said, hoping a tad of levity would help soften her up.

"Second of all, I'm just looking out for you, is all. You're a nice girl, Yasmin. I know it's hard enough being a slave, I just didn't want you to get into trouble."

Yasmin took a deep breath. In and out, slow and calming. Finally, she turned to look at Juras fully, absently rubbing along some of the thin scars on her arms.

"I see," she said, and sighed. Made sense. It was true. "I guess I'm just...I don't know. I'm terrible at this stuff."

"Well, you're still learning," Juras said, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"We could be regular sparring partners, ya know. I like your style."

Sparring partners. That sounded...safe. Logical.

Yasmin rolled her shoulders back and flashed a small smile. "Sure," she said, "so long as you're willing to share your elven secrets."

And she waggled her fingers as she said it, as though ot were some great mystery.

Juras laughed at that, and he gave her a knowing smirk. 

"Well, so long as you're flexible enough, I can teach you all kinds of tricks."

He nudged her with his elbow.

"Elves kiss real fancy too."

It was a bold-faced lie, that last sentence, but maybe he'd get another kiss out of it!

Yasmin gave him a flat look. "Do they now."

"Yeah!" Juras said, and he gave her that grin of his.

"Have you never heard the tales about elven lovers?"

"Sure. The tragic ones where the mortal dies long before the elf," Yasmin said with a cheery smile. "Nothing got me more hot 'n' bothered than those ones, lemme tell ya!"

Juras gave her a confident look.

"Well damn, Yas. I'm gonna have to give you a better impression, then."

Yasmin lifted her eyebrow with a smirk. "Gonna point me to some better literature?"

"Why read a book? You got the real thing right here." Juras said, motioning to himself and daring to take a step closer.

Yasmin snorted, her grin faltering. "You know, just because I'm a slave, it doesn't mean I'm easy," she said, crossing her arms, a little insecurity filtering through again. She might fake such a reputation normally, but Juras already knew--she'd admitted it to him. And for whatever reason, she found she actually valued his opinion.

"How could I ever think that?" Juras said.

"For fuck's sake, I had to fight you just to get a kiss out of ya!" he said, although the teasing was clear in his voice.

"If that ain't hard-to-get, I dunno what is."

"Well then," Yasmin said with a haughty lift of her chin. "Guess you'll just have to fight me again, eh?"

"If you think you can get me, then by all means," Juras said.

"Just know that it's gonna end up with us locking lips."

"Or you coughing up a lot of falafel," Yasmin said with a too-sweet smile. "Don't get too cocky! I'm learning your style."

"Guess I better switch it then, right?" Juras said, and he picked up a wooden greatsword from the rack.

Yasmin stuck to her wooden scimitar, having never trained with a greatsword before, and being more comfortable with her trusty blade.

"Oh, we're going again NOW?"

Juras gave the greatsword a twirl, holding it to his side with one hand.

"Not feeling so confident all of a sudden?"

"Oh, it's not that. I just didn't realize you wanted a go again so soon," Yasmin said--and lunged at him, sword thrusting, before she had even finished her sentence.

She almost got him with that one. Fortunately, Juras was able to get the flat of his greatsword up just in time to deflect her thrust away, rushing forwards to slam it against her, using it to push her onto her ass.

Never before had Yasmin felt like an incompetent fool. She'd always felt pretty damned skilled as a gladiator! She'd survived this long after all, even faced an ork and lions and bigger men than Juras.

Of course, none of them had been timeless half-elf's with several lifetimes on her--AND her opponents!

With a grunt, she found herself flat on her aching ass again, staring up at Juras with a mix of surprise and speechless indignation.

Juras gave the greatsword a nimble twirl, putting it against his shoulder as he looked down on her. After a moment, he held his hand down to her.

"I think I could teach you a thing or two," Juras said.

Ever stubborn and prideful, Yasmin ignored his hand and got to her feet on her own. She didn't bother to dust off her ass.

"Like...?"

"Like I said, a few things. You've got great strikes, but your footwork could use some polishing. Your stancing, too," Herrick said.

"You're decent enough against simple techniques, but the more advanced stuff just gets right to you," he added.

That was...a fair assessment. It always sucked to hear negative critique, but it was honest, and that was what she cared about. There were few truly advanced fighters in the ring, because few lived long enough to become advanced--and those advanced fighters were usually career gladiators, those who chose to make a living of it. Those people had backers. Sponsors. They didn't usually get set on a lowly slave like her, unless people just wanted a slaughter.

But people usually wanted a show, so they either made a spectacle of it with a mass slaughter, or pit evenly skilled slaves together. Yasmin knew she was no professional. Maybe it was time she learned from one.

"And you're willing to share your secrets?"

"Yeah," Herrick said.

He stepped a bit closer to her.

"But first, you owe me another kiss."

Yasmin snorted at that, then made a "come at me" motion with her hands, smirking.

"Come and get it."

She was going to flip him or something, he knew it. Returning her smirk, he closed the distance with two more steps, moving to put his arms around her waist and lock lips with her.

But rather than trip him or trick him, Yasmin merely accepted the kiss. After all, that was the deal--and if she was anything, she was a woman of her word.

But accepting it didn't mean she was any less awkward, especially when Juras wrapped his arms around her in a move that was almost more intimate to her than the kiss. She squirmed, face flaming and heart skipping, and grabbed at his arms to shove them back down and escape the uncomfortable, vulnerable sensation that was too close, to her, to the sensation of being restrained.

"Woah," Juras started when she shoved his arm down. He pulled back.

"Not a hug person?" He said, and he gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry."

Yasmin took a deep breath to clear her head, though her nerves still felt jumpy--and she felt damned sheepish now, realizing she'd just balked at something so basic, something most people knew from childhood--something she had known, too, as a child, but which felt like lifetimes ago. A simple hug, and yet it had felt to her like an attack.

But friendly hugs weren't really something people peddled around here. Oh, she'd hugged Agrian before--but she'd initiated. And that had been a long time ago. The only other times she'd been "hugged" were when folks grappled with her in a fight--or tried to pull her into shady corners. Or her old master. And that definitely hadn't been friendly, those times he had pinned her against a wall or embraced her from behind; kisses had followed, and touches that made her stomach twist.

In her experience, such contact was usually just followed by some form of violence. A means of capture and restraint.

She took another breath. "Not really."

Juras gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I get where you're coming from. Growing up, I wasn't really that into hugs either. Or handshakes," Juras said.

He glanced around, and then met her eyes.

"So, I've got some pointers for you. You want the short or the long version?"

Some of the tension eased out of Yasmin when Herrick didn't freak out about her freaking out. She rubbed her arm, took another slow breath, and finally looked back up at him.

"Hit me with the long version."

"You're good at what you do. You've got a loose, informal style. It's mostly basics, but you've got some pretty advanced techniques as well. The problem is you don't have any experience against a martially trained fighter."

Juras motioned to her.

"I can teach you."

"At what cost?" Yasmin asked, eyebrow lifted.

"Well, meeting someone here who isn't a slaver or an asshole is reward enough, to be honest," Juras said, shooting Yasmin a grin.

"Also, I like you. Rather not see you dead."

"Really? So you're offering for...free?" Yasmin asked, blinking. It was unheard of here. There was always a catch, always a price. Doing something just because they liked someone, worried about someone...

She had never encountered anything like that. Except once before, with Agrian.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," Juras said, and he smirked at her.

He looked over her, as if affirming himself of something.

"It's not really conditioning you need, either. Just some new moves."

"Like some of your crazy elven warrior moves?" Yasmin asked with a grin, though some deep part of her was still cautious, still uncertain. There had to be a catch here.

And she had always found it difficult to lower her guard.

"Why not? You look flexible enough," Juras said, and he gave her another looking over.

"You up for some more falaffel? I think we left the basket in your cell."

"Y'know, just figured elf types were all secretive and stuff," Yasmin said as she stretched. "That's how the stories paint your lot, at least. Anyway, sure! Falafel sounds good! I mean, this is me you're asking. I'd never say no to anything that isn't slop!

"I've met some mainland elves that were pretty sheisty, so I don't blame you," Juras said.

He motioned for her to follow, and started to head back to her cell.

"You're the first elf of any sort I've ever met," Yasmin said as she followed along. "All I know about elves is what I've heard from stories. I always pictured 'em to be more..."

She looked Juras up and down. "Fragile."

"We are," Juras said.

"Purebreeds can't really bulk up like humans can. Elves like to get slim and speedy, not big and strong. I guess it's one of the perks of being a half-elf."

"Best of both worlds, eh?" Yasmin quipped as they approached her cell. "Yeah, if you were full prissy elf, you couldn't touch me."

"I wouldn't say that," Juras said, shrugging.

"I've seen many things in my time as a mercenary. I've seen a pureblood strike down three men before they could take a swing at him. If it's one thing they have going for them, is that whatever they dedicate themselves to, they're masters of it."

"And I guess they'd definitely have time on their sides," Yasmin said as they approached her cell. She opened the door and stepped inside. "Lucky ageless bastards."

"One of the perks," Juras said, and he smiled as he stepped inside behind her.

"Did we finish all of that falaffel?"

Flopping down onto her cot, Yasmin snorted a laugh at that. "Does that surprise you? I told you I'd been craving it forever!"

"And you didn't cramp up? Impressive," Juras teased, standing over her cot and putting a fist on his waist, looking down at her.

Yasmin gave him a curious look, eyebrow raised as she watched him stand over her. "I didn't eat them alone. You pigged out, too."

"I ate a normal amount, excuse you," Juras said, although by his tone and his grin it was plain to see that he was conceding the point to her.

Her curious look caught his own curiosity.

"Something on my face?" he asked innocuously.

"Huh?" Yasmin jolted, eyebrows rising in surprise, and quickly looked away. "Uh, no. Just some sand. You know, you don't have to stand there. It's gonna hurt my neck, having to look up at you."

Juras set himself down on her bed, stretching his arms a bit, after which he self-consciously brushed his face for sand, even if it was unlikely that he would actually have any.

"Well, it's better than sand on my ass," he retorted.

"Better on than IN," Yasmin said with a snicker. "I don't wanna know how that'd even happen."

"Well," Juras said, and he clasped his hands on the bac of his neck, giving a small stretch before he set his hands down, one on the bed next to him and one on Yasmin's knee.

"It's probably a combination of unfortunate positioning, poor armor choice, and wind."

He paused for a moment.

"Lots of wind."

Yasmin raised an eyebrow at the hand on her knee, then lifted her eyes to Juras. She gave another little chortle. "That's an oddly specific answer. Personal experience, eh?"

"Oh, no, just speculating," he said, and their eyes met. Almost unconsciously, his eyes flicked downwards to her lips for a moment before they returned to hers.

Yasmin didn't miss that gesture. Her eyes widened for a second as she registered it, then her face flushed, and she quickly cleared her throat and looked away. She adjusted herself, crossing her legs in what was supposed to be a casual move--but what was really just an excuse to shake Juras's hand off her leg.

"Soooo," she said, trying to fight back the wave of awkwardness--something she was so unused to and didn't quite know how to handle. This was all so weird and new to her. She'd only ever gotten this sort of attention from people who meant her harm. Punching people in the face was easy, social stuff less so, and there were so many walls and shields in place she didn't know how to let them down.

"What's going on outside?" she said. "Any news? It's hard to come by here, and you're a free man, after all."

Juras got the hint, although he couldn't tell if it was her rejecting him just a little bit more or just contending with a bunch of confusing emotions. Regardless, he gave her some space , scooting back on her bed so that he was against the wall, with his legs stretched out.

"More of the same, really. The shah and all the wealthy nobles just strut about, doing their own thing and using everyone below them as a walking path. Volunteer gladiators have been running low, so I've heard that us remaining ones are more likely than ever to be put in lethal contests," Juras said.

"Heard the fight organizers are also looking to buy some kaadir."

Yasmin shot him a surprised look. "You can say no to those, right? The lethal matches? I mean...you're a VOLUNTEER."

Juras smirked a bit.

"Oh, I can say no. But saying no to the organizers tells them you're not willing to fight. Not only do I not get the money I need to pay for my food and the roof over my head, but it also means they're going to schedule me less for a long while afterwards."

He let out a deep sigh.

"Oh."

Yeah, seemed she did have her share of misconceptions about the whole volunteer gladiator thing. Yasmin frowned, shaking her head. "Bloodthirsty jackals, the lot of 'em. Seriously, it's sick. How do they not realize how sick it is? I'll never get it."

And yet how often did she fantasize about putting a blade through a spectator's eye? Or one of the guards?

Far too often.

"The worst part is, I think a lot of them do know how sick it is," Juras said, looking to her.

"I guess when you're up to your eyeballs in gold, it's hard to care about anything else."

"I guess," Yasmin said with a shrug. "I've been dirt poor all my life, so I wouldn't know.".

She flopped over onto her belly and propped her chin on her hands. "I've heard rumors some slaves are looking to change all that."

Juras sighed at that.

"It's gonna play hell on this city, if this turns into a full revolt, although..."

He looked to her, and smirked.

"I guess I could give being a freedom fighter a try, if anything goes down."

"What? Really?" Yasmin gave him a startled look, blinking several times.

"You'd give up the pay? Take the risk?"

"I mean, think of it this way. If the slaves rise up, I know for damn sure all of these gladiators, volunteer and otherwise, will be put against the slaves. Some for money, others just to save their lives."

He shrugged.

"When I say no to the slavemasters, they're gonna black me out of every arena event anyways, so why not take up something else? Maybe something that's worth a damn this time around..."

"Huh." Yasmin eyed him for a moment, as though weighing something in her mind. After a long pause she shifted a look off to the side and scooted closer to him, then leaned in close to his ear, her breath warm on his skin.

"Then how would you feel if I told you I kinda helped orchestrate the whole thing?"

"I'd say you've got your work cut out for you," Juras said, but he turned his head, leaving their lips a hair's breadth apart. He smiled.

"And that you have my swords."

Really? So he was actually serious about this? Blinking in surprise, Yasmin straightened up a bit. "Really? You're not just pulling my leg? 'Cause I mean it's bloody dangerous and you know...you could die."

At that, Juras laughed the kind of light, airy laugh that only an elf could pull off. Once again, his eyes did that downward flick, as if noticing how close they were.

"You're talking as if I became a gladiator in Essyrn thinking it'd be safe," Juras said.

"Besides, I've seen how the guards operate around here. They don't hold a candle to me."

"Seen how they operate? Are you familiar with their rotations? Their schedules?" Yasmin asked, perking up with excitement and once again oblivious to his obvious flirting.

"I'll have to actually come back to you on that, I don't know right off the top of my head," Juras said, and he tilted his head a bit. He let himself relax a bit more and he tilted backward onto his hands.

"I'll have it the next time we meet."

"Yeah?"

Yasmin chewed her lip briefly, her nerves flaring up a bit. There were only a couple people she had shared this with, and what if...

"I can trust you with this, right? You're not gonna...do anything, right?"

"Hells, no," Juras said plainly, giving his head a quick shake.

"Guys who run this place are a bunch of cheap sadists. I came here to be a better fighter, to compete in the greatest arena there is."

He sighed, and sat back up.

"Never really got along with the management. I'm actually in a little trouble of my own right now."

Yasmin barked a laugh at that, sharp and harsh. "Greatest arena there is. Here? Pfffffft. Yeah right. It's just a giant murder pit, is all it is. Who fed you that pile of kaadir shit?"

His last statement, however, did catch her attention.

"What kinda trouble you in, if you don't mind my asking?"

"All arenas are murder pits," Juras said, giving her a smirk.

"But this is the largest, the most well known murder pit on Le'Ranna! The tales go all the way to Adela about this place. Gladiators and merceneraries alike find their fortunes here."

He let out a snort.

"In a way, it's what I was looking for. In a lot of ways, though, it wasn't. I came here to prove myself to the greatest, I..."

He trailed off, and gave his head a gentle shake.

"I'm in hot water because I haven't been fighting enough. Mostly because I'm avoiding claiming the fights to the death, or fights against slaves. The slavemasters want volunteers that are bloodthirsty and blinded by money. I'm neither."

Yasmin blinked at that. "It's that well known?"

The news was...well, news to her! But Yasmin didn't actually know much about the outside world. All she knew was Essyrn, and half of her life was lost to slavery. What she knew of the outside world she learned from others, and it wasn't much.

The moment passed, though, and she frowned at his next words and rolled her eyes. "Of course they do. That's why brutes like Vetger do so well. There's a surprising amount of rich people who love blood but have never raised a sword themselves. It's sick."

"Vetger," Juras repeated, a snide look on his face as he gently shook his head.

"Always kissing up to the fightmasters to get the big fights. I met his type in Thanatos, and in my old mercenary company."

He gave Yasmin a sidelong look.

"I'd like to get on the sands with him. Knock that stupid gold tooth right down his throat..."

"I'm sure he'd love that," Yasmin said with a growl. Her fight with the man had been recent (http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=24269.0), and it had left her sickened and shaken. It was a large part of why she had been so angry with Juras; she had assumed they were cut from the same cloth. Bastardly celebrity gladiators...

"In any case, uhm...I appreciate your cooperation. You know, about the whole...guard schematic thing. To be honest, I'm not really sure what I'm doing. I just know I can't do this anymore. Whatever it takes."

[Ah, awkward. I thought this "Vetger" fella was just a randomly named NPC and so I played along. Whoopsie doopsie.]

Juras nodded, and he let himself rest back. Sitting next to her on her bed, he scooched down so he could rest his head in his hands against her cell wall, letting his legs stretch out a bit. He yawned gently. He looked at her, giving her an appraising sort of look. Like her next words mattered to him.

"You all by yourself in this? I appreciate what you're trying to do, but if you're working on your own..."

He smirked.

"Handsome half-elf gladiators don't count, of course. I'm talking in general."

[It's okay dude! xD]

Yasmin snorted at that. "Of course. Generally speaking, well, uh..." She frowned and glanced off to the side, idly tapping fingers on her knee.

"There were others. But we...kind of got split up. Nature of the beast and all. Slaves get sold. I don't know where they are anymore, or what they're doing, or if they're even okay. If they're even still here. If they are, I know they'd still be working on this. Somehow. I just..."

She heaved a frustrated sigh and looked back over at Juras. "It's hard to organize shit here. Everyone's scared--I'm scared--and you don't know who you can trust or whose gonna throw you to the lions. Most people are less afraid of the lions than they are of getting caught talking about things they shouldn't be." She shook her head. "I know it's stupid. I know I'm in way over my head. I know all this talk is probably just one big, stupid dream. But at least it feels like something. I don't know. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

Juras listened intently, placing his hands together on his stomach. His eyes drifted to the ceiling as she spoke.

He thought about her words after she spoke. It reminded him about the words that sold him on the mercenary life. About how his old commander had talked about the dream, and how that dream was enough to get a young, purposeless Juras into a uniform and holding a sword.

"Well," Juras started sitting back up. He paused then, meeting Yasmin's eyes with his own. He spoke after a few seconds.

"You're honest. I'll give you that much. The plan itself could use some work, though," he said, a grin forming on his face. He offered her his hand.

"You don't have to be by yourself on this anymore. I'm just a single man, but you've got me, at least."

"Hey, that's one more person than I had before," Yasmin said with a lopsided smile. "Now it's all about figuring out how to make this more than just talk—and live to enact the plan."

Her smile turned sheepish. "That's where I'm stumped. But I guess it's like they say, Essyrn wasn't built in one day and all that."

Juras nodded along as she spoke.

"It wasn't. And it wasn't built by two people, either..." He added, and stood from her bed. He stretched his arms and turned back to her.

"I should be going. The paymaster's going to wonder why I'm so late if I stick around here for too long."

"Oh...yeah. Probably a good idea,  before anyone decides to walk by here," Yasmin said, fighting to keep a twinge of disappointment from her voice. She didn't truly believe she would see him again,  not really. And there was no bitterness in that. It was just a fact of life at this point, something she was used to and expected. Friendships just didn't happen—and it was probably for the best.

"Well, uh...thanks. For the chat and stuff. It was fun! And thanks for not being the jerk I thought you were," she added with a wry grin. "See you around?"

It didn't stop her hoping for change, though.

Juras gave her a nod and a grin, although it was closer to a warm smile. Less facade and more genuine warmth.

"Well, you've only known me a day or so, I've been known to be a jerk at times," he said. He stood from her bed and made a few non-committal steps towards her door. He was hesitant to leave, that much was true.

"But I'll see you around, Yasmin. If you ever feel like finding me, I'm usually in the training chambers in the afternoon," he said, and with one last wink and smile her way, he left. He made his way towards the paymaster's office, a hustle in his step to make up for his lateness.

He caught a bit of lip from him for making him wait, but he was on his way home soon enough.