The Darker Days of Me and Him

[Salem Ave]

Two days after 'Our Future Imperfect (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=18079)'...

The lunar equinox was fast approaching. In only two days, the Festival of Four Moons would reach its conclusion with the marriage of the Hapan Prince to the Onderonian Princess. Until then, they had nothing but time, time in which it seemed prudent for all parties involved in the holy ceremony to become better acquainted.

Today, it had been decided that Razielle would spend some time with the Hapan Ambassador, Aestiva. Whilst the two discussed the planning of the Princess's wedding, Tristan – fully on the road to recovery after his hunting accident – would indulge in some outdoor pursuits alongside Salem Ave who, in addition to giving Razielle away to her new husband, considered it an honour and a privilege to introduce him to the many customs of Iziz.

Along with the Queen and the rest of the court, the four of them had taken lunch and were just about ready to go there separate ways. As they rose to part, a number of eyes fell on Salem. It was strange, seeing him wearing anything other than a suit. What was even stranger still was that the Onderonian garb hung from him perfectly; with his wavy hair, dark tunic and sturdy boots, he looked every bit the native.

[Razielle Alastor]

She dared to let her eyes wander over Salem's retreating back. It was the very epitome of macabre that he was going to be giving her away to Tristan at their wedding in two days. To say nothing of him going off with her groom-to-be today. In fact she felt quite sick.

No wait.. That wasn't bridely jitters.. That was something else entirely.

Unobserved she smiled happily, reminding herself that it was temporary, she could get through this..

Turning to her companion for the day, she was surprised to catch Ambassador Ni'Liatoth with a similar look of adoration mixed with regret on her features. She followed the Ambassador's gaze straight to...

Prince Tristan.

Really...? Hmmm..

"Ready, Madame Ambassador?", she inquired politely, snapping the Hapan diplomat out of her reverie..

They were to make final touches to Razielle's bridal trousseau. Specially designed Hapan finery, a gift from her soon to be mother-in-law.

Oh, how she loathed her...

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

Reluctantly, Aestiva tore her eyes away from the Prince as he swaggered off at the Prime Ministers side. He cast a glance back towards them, as he clapped Salem hard on the back, but he only had eyes for Razielle. Aestiva glanced down, to the plate of food she had been forcing herself to eat, and then across to her companion for the day.

“I am, Your Highness. Where shall we be spending the day?”

[Razielle Alastor]

"Well... the only certain thing on the agenda for the day is to make sure that the dress fits.. After that we can find something more...", she searched for the right word.

Somehow saying pleasant, sounded somehow offensive to Prince Tristan.

"..Well..more diverting. Perhaps a stroll through the Western Square?", she invited, trying to cajole the Ambassador into an open mood. She fully intended to dig at her today..

"So, would you accompany me to my rooms?", she ask, with a friendly smile..

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

“Certainly.”

The Ambassador smiled. When it came to keeping up appearances, Aestiva had been trained very well. Even without the use of the Force, she was highly adept at concealing the truth. She was a politician of sorts, after all. As they walked, she admired the architecture and artist beauty of her surroundings, yet it all paled in comparison to the Castle of Per'Agthra. How she longed to return to the Fountain Palace...

“You have a wonderful home here, my lady.”

[Razielle Alastor]

"Thank you...", she said sincerely. "It's home and wonderful to me because the people that I love are here.."

She let the implications of the statement go. She could have meant anything from the people of Iziz, to the Queen herself, or more..

"Iziz has an ancient history and style of it's own. Nothing quite so spectacular as the beauty of the Consortium and Hapes..", she agreed.

"But lovely in it's very wildness... It's an untamed beauty.", she paused to nod to a passing courtier.

Coming to her chambers, Razielle entered and shook her head in dismay at the ordered chaos. Boxes were everywhere and a vexed looking Lira had been diligently trying to make sense of what should go where. Her wedding gown and it's many pieces had been laid out for her across her bed. She eyed it like it might bite her..

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

It seemed such a small room for a Princess, quaint even. Her gaze lingered on the bed itself, wondering whether...

“How may I be of assistance?” she asked, hoping for anything to distract her from the awful train of thought that the bed had inspired.

[Razielle Alastor]

"Lira....? I would like a bit of time with the Ambassador please..", Razielle said softly.

"Yes, miss...", Lira boobed a curtsey her way, then left without another word, not questioning her mistress, or her wishes.

She was the only member of the Palace staff who knew how very unhappy Razielle truly was with the coming marriage, despite the great honor it was. Razielle also suspected that she probably even had her own suspicions about the child, considering how she woke sick every morning lately.. It was dangerous, but she trusted her maid-turned-confidante implictly..

"Ambassador...", she began. "I just wish to talk openly with you. Nothing more. I find myself in a situation that I did not forsee, and I would like to gain your insight. If you would allow it..?"

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

Aestiva remembered the last time she had been asked such a question, by Tristan on the way to Onderon. It had left her with a bitter feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Of course. It is my duty and pleasure to offer you counsel.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Razielle took the Ambassador's hand and pulled her to sit beside her. "I've spoken with Prince Tristan, of course. But, tell me.."

Razielle looked deep into her eyes, willing her to open up and be hoenst with her. "Tell me what kind of man he is. His nature? His likes and dislikes? I'm being married to a stranger here, and you seem to know him quite well.."

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

“Prince Tristan is...”

What better answer could she give than the truth? A smile softened her features, suffusing them with warmth.

“Kind, loving, selfless. He is dutiful in all of his responsibilities, in particular those relating to his family. He and the Princess Elaine are very close, as I'm sure you must have gathered. As for his likes and dislikes... he is not a man of decadence. He enjoys simple pleasures: a home-cooked meal, a stroll in the countryside, any time spent with a loved one.”

She recalled how he had been aboard the Arbitrator – his hot temper, cooled by reason.

“He has such... passion inside of him, for everything in life.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Such a paragon of manly virtue and impressive emotional depth, any woman would be honored to call such a man husband. Any woman.. except her.

The Ambassador's words only further served to solidify what Razielle herself had already pieced together about her betrothed. She knew of his love for his sister, his sportsman-like nature and abhorrence to stand upon the mount of rigid formality. She did admire him, as a man..

But he was not for her, and it was regretable that he should become a pawn, but unavoidable. Tristan Alastor was a means to an end..

Ambassador Ni'Liatoth... She could be as well.

"You admire him greatly...", Razielle said, unoffended, and with a smile.

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

It seemed unthinkable that she should not admire him, but she had not been asked to confess her own admiration. The Princess had asked for a judgement of character, so that was what she had given. Aestiva chose her words carefully.

“He is an admirable man. The two of you will make a charming couple.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Mandalore stood stoically in the outdoor training ring that was part of the grounds of the palace. Still in full armor (she'd barely been out of it for the entire festival) and with the four person honor guard lounging nearby in the shade of a few trees, Lilaena waited patiently for her master and the Crown Prince to arrive.

As they came into view she stretched languidly, and subsided back into a relaxed stance while the pair walked closer.

[Salem Ave]

“Good afternoon, Mand'alor.” Salem bowed his head, though only a little.

“Thank you for agreeing to join us today... I'm sure you remember High Highness Prince Tristan.”

With a gesture, he indicated the Hapan, who was sporting an impressive bruise on his left temple. Nonetheless, he smiled, quite clearly excited at what the day ahead held. Seeing his boyish enthusiasm, Salem couldn't help but smirk.

“I hope you're feeling fit and ready. I suspect that the Prince will prove a most challenging opponent,” he added, his condescension apparently going unnoticed by Tristan.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She inclined her head silently towards the Crown Prince, and spoke to Salem through the helmets vox, her voice gravelly sounding. "I am prepared. The Prince will be as any ge'verd to me."

The honor guard sat up to watch the bout, the two female Mando'ade nearly knocking their helmets together as they spoke quietly. Lilaena was sure money was changing hands somewhere in the little group. She smiled, and began to unfasten her helmet. Granoi hopped up and strode over to collect her armor as Mandalore stripped out of the protective shell.

"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam." Granoi said knowingly. A warrior is more than their armor. Lilaena nodded, her piercing green eyes adjusting quickly to the natural sunlight that flooded the practice area. As the armor came off piece by piece, she revealed a toned and lithe body in calf-length leggings and a hip length sleeveless tunic that was tied tightly around her breasts.

The heavy armored boots were removed and replaced with light shoes designed for sparring. She began to stretch lazily, her short hair falling in front of her eyes as she reached for her liberated feet.

[Tristan Alastor]

That Mandalore was a woman did not surprise the Prince. He came from a society in which women took the most important and powerful roles in all arenas, even the military. If not for that, then Razielle had already made patently clear to him that the women of Onderon were a fierce breed indeed and not to be underestimated.

Seeing that his opponent for the day had already begun to warm up, Tristan too began to stretch, whilst Salem Ave took a step back to observe. When the Prime Minister had offered him the chance of engaging in melee with the notorious Mandalorian warriors, he had not imagined that he would face their leader, yet now confronted with her his resolve was not shaken.

“On what terms do we fight? Are there rules?”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"When a young warrior trains, there are no rules," Lilaena told him, "as the father teaches their own young as they see fit. In fighting for sport the rules are fairly common. We fight to submit our opponent physically or by knock out, and all fair holds and attacks are allowed."

Lilaena couldn't help but notice that the Prince was a handsome young man, and she also couldn't help noticing that he was not operating at one hundred percent. Some sort of accident in the days previous. It would be an interesting bout. "No hitting below the belt or the back of the head. No dirty grappling, such as fish hooks or eye gouges," she hooked her index finger in her mouth to demonstrate.

"We begin when you are ready. I have been asked to show you how the Mando'ade fight, and I will do so." Lilaena stood lightly on the balls of her feet, her hands at her sides. "Jossai will serve as mediator," one of the honor guard stood and moved closer, "keeping the fighters from accidentally killing the other should the fight get too serious. You may tap out at any time."

She glanced at Salem, trying to read his expression and failing. Did he want her to beat the hells out of the Crown Prince? It seemed as though it would be harder not to. But Lilaena knew better than to judge a person from the outside alone.

[Tristan Alastor]

Having no background in combat, Tristan found every thing Mandalore said quite fascinating. He was not physically weak, by any means, but his strength had not – until recently – been applied to anything, save the usual Hapan pursuit of simply appearing the peak of fitness and health. There was a lot of energy and aggression stored up inside of him, just waiting to be released. Feeling satisfied that he was as prepared as he would ever be, in his present state, Tristan nodded and tried to assume a posture that mirrored his opponents'.

“I am ready.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena nodded, the scar on her face more visible than usual because the long days spent in the Wilds had tanned her skin. Mandalorians were who they were because of the armor they wore, but they did not wear it all the time. She bounced a little on her feet, and brought her hands up to a guard position. The Prince copied her, his muscles bunching up impressively as he did so. He was not bulky by any means, having nearly the same sort of lean muscle tone that she did. He was larger than her, but inexperienced.

Lilaena quickly covered the ground between them, her right fist snaking out to test the Prince's defences. He knocked her punch aside instinctively, but failed to keep his guard up and her left hand jabbed him hard in the face.

[Razielle Alastor]

“He is an admirable man. The two of you will make a charming couple.”

Charming, yes..

Just like the cover of a child's bedtime story, gone all wrong.

She managed not to wince, instead deciding that her suspicisions were quite spot on. The Ambassador seemed to have as much of a hard time saying, as Razielle did hearing it. She didn't know if the lady was in love with the Prince, but she did harbor deep feelings for him, and when he was present, followed him with her eyes. She knew those symtoms.. She saw them in herself..

"What about the Queen Mother? What can I expect from her as mother-in-law? I've only made her acquaintance as a diplomat you see.. I truly feel unprepared for this honor...", Razielle confided, looking down as if afraid..

[Salem Ave]

Tristan's head jerked back from the impact of the punch. Salem didn't flinch, didn't so much as wince. His eyes moved alternately between Lilaena and the Prince, observing each fighter. Though Tristan was making a valiant attempt to gain an upper-hand, he was out-matched in more ways than he would ever know. Even without drawing upon her affinity with the Force, Lilaena was the superior combatant. Without taking his eyes away from the bout, Salem strolled around the ring at a leisurely pace – assessing and analysing what he saw, and perhaps taking a little too much enjoyment in the sight of the Hapan taking a beating.

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

“Ta'a Chume Ishara... she who has no equal.”

It was enough to make her vomit. Her selection as ambassador to Onderon had been not fluke. The Queen Mother was aware of her dissension, and rather than simply putting Aestiva out of her misery – as it was well within her right to do – she had decided to deliver her to a fate worse than death: to oversee the marriage of the man she loved to some back-water excuse for a Princess.

“She is...a formidable woman,” Aestiva began. “She is widely perceived as one of the most cunning rulers the Consortium has had. The people love her dearly, though they have been given many reasons to do otherwise.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle wondered if she'd always been able to read people so well, or if it was a gift she was picking up from watching her master do it constantly. He didn't like surprises..

Well.. he tolerated them from her now and then, she thought with a lascivious turn of mind.. She reigned it in quickly. The point was, Aestiva was another of Ishara's misplaced pawns. Easily adapted into being her pawn, if Razielle played her right.

She was in love with Tristan. She disapproved of their marriage...

It was a bit of information that could be used two-fold. On the one hand to help Razielle with something that had been wearing on her mind, and on the other... Ambassador Ni'Liatoth resented the Queen, despite her words. That much was apparent. She may have a few uses...

"Thank you, Ambassador.. for your counsel."

For giving me what I needed. A pawn of my own.

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

Aestiva bowed her head. “Of course. It is my duty to serve.”

Showing such obedience was not something that she enjoyed, but as long as she was chattel to the Prince, it was her mandate to be compliant – and so, she smiled, brushing her fingertips against the soft fabric of the bridal gown which lay behind them.

“Your dress is quite beautiful. The Queen Mother has chosen such wonderfully complimentary colours...”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Tristan Alastor was beautiful and well muscled, but it was soon obvious that he had no idea how to fight. As a Prince of Hapes no doubt he had others to do his fighting for him.

Lilaena smiled oddly at him, acutely aware of how easily she could render him unconscious or worse as he awkwardly blocked a kick with his forearm. She landed another hard kick on the outside of his right leg, and he buckled momentarily before catching himself. He was concentrating, and was actually a quick learner.

She slapped aside a punch and was caught by a kick herself, feeling the sharp pain in her leg as his foot connected solidly. Tristan allowed himself a smile, and Lilaena showed her teeth. "Grappling is also a part of the Mandolorian way of fighting..." She lunged at him, kicking his feet unexpectedly out from underneath him, and landed on his back with her arm up underneath his chin pressing painfully on his throat.

After a moment she released him, getting back to her feet and standing a few paces away as he caught his breath.

[Tristan Alastor]

Bouncing from foot to foot, Tristan shook out his limbs, trying to will away the pain that was throbbing in the back of his mind. He cast a glance back towards Salem Ave, the lone bastion of civility, and smiled hopefully. Ave was a representative to the Queen and a close confidante to his wife-to-be. More over, he was one of the few male members of the upper court. Once married and settled on Onderon, Tristan suspected that much of his time would have to be spent in the Arkanian's company, and so he wanted the man to warm to him.

“Grappling,” he said, turning his head back to Mandalore after the moments glance.

“Isn't that... wrestling, on the ground?”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Indeed," she said. As he bounced around, Lilaena looked to the Prime Minister to gauge his reaction to the short bout. "Standing up and fighting is effective, but being able to take your opponent to the dirt quickly can be just as deadly."

Lilaena put out a hand, "Be still and watch carefully." As the Prince settled down, carefully masking any pain he was feeling, she walked up to him. "A simple hook of the foot here," she demonstrated by putting her foot between his and catching him lightly in the back of an ankle, "can upset your opponent and send him to the ground. Once he is there, do not give up your advantage. Pin him quickly, and put pressure on him.

"Like the choke hold I put you into," she smiled mirthlessly, "Or there are any number of positions that put unbearable pain on certain joints and cause your opponent to tap out." Lilaena backed up a little and used both hands to gesture him towards her. "Now, take me down."

[Salem Ave]

Salem paid close attention to Tristan now. Seeing the Prince in battle had given him some insight into Tristan's character that he had previously not possessed. If his estimations were right, there was a possibility – however small – that Alastor had some aptitude for the Force. When he had hit the ground, his legs swept from beneath him, that had been a momentary flicker in which Salem swore he had felt something. Knowing that Lilaena would not be so foolish, he could only surmise that Tristan was the culprit.

He watched even more eagerly now, as the fight continued. Tristan's eyes darted here and there, trying to ascertain where would be best to strike, at which point she was the weakest. Yet, Mandalore appeared impervious. Salem could see that her guard was impenetrable, especially to such an amateur. Nonetheless, he put up a valiant effort and moved in, hoping to drop his opponent by hooking his foot behind hers and throwing her to the ground.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She teased him with an opening, a space where he could move in and try to throw her as she'd instructed. Should she let him, and allow the Prince some dignity?

Without looking at Salem, she knew the answer. She could feel it in the distaste her master held for Tristan. No, there would be no mercy in this so-called lesson.

As Tristan came in close to try to hook her ankle as she'd shown him, Lilaena countered, hands and legs moving quickly and dumping the crown prince in the dirt once more. The prince coughed, sucking air back into his lungs painfully as he'd landed quite hard on his back. After a moment he got to his feet, a trace of that handsome smile still there. "Again!"

Well, he was determined. Determined to get himself injured. Lilaena traded punches with him, and kicked him hard in the outer thigh a few times until he was visibly favoring that leg. She smirked, slapping aside a weak attack, and was caught by surprise when Tristan hit her right on the chin, knocking her head back painfully.

He grinned, pleased he'd tricked her with the feint, and she narrowed her eyes as he fell back into the default guard position with his fists up near his face for protection. He wasn't very light on his feet, not after the bruise she'd raised on his thigh from her sharp kicks, but he shuffled around a bit as she circled him.

He had the reach and weight advantage on her, but hardly any idea how to use it. Lilaena darted inside his reach, slapping him so hard on the side of the head his ear rang, then grabbed an arm and wrenched him around until she was holding him up by his arm behind his back. A quick movement of her feet knocked his out from under him and he fell heavily with her on top of him.

After a long moment she got up, releasing him and walking to the far side of the practice area.

[Tristan Alastor]

Face down in the dirt, Tristan sighed. He lay there for a moment, feeling the various throbs and aches that were patterned across his body. He would have wagered his title that he'd felt more pain since arriving on Onderon than he had felt in all his life on Hapes. It was a jarring awakening to another world of sensations. With a groan, Tristan pushed himself up to his feet and looked after Mandalore as she strode away. Their combat was at an end; she, the clear victor. The Mandalorians eyed him for a moment and then, chuckling, muttered amongst themselves.

“What now, Mr. Ave?”

[Salem Ave]

“Now, you should rest, Your Highness.”

Salem smiled. Tristan would not have recognized the expression for what it was, for the motivations behind it, but Lilaena would surely have an inkling. He looked after her, though her back was turned to him.

“My commendations, Mandalore. As always... it is an honour and a pleasure to watch you fight. I do wonder, though, perhaps the Prince might better learn to improve his own technique... through observation?”

Even as he spoke, he was stripping away the cloak that hung over his tunic.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Only her warriors could see the expression on her face as Salem Ave stepped into the training area. Money began to change hands as they began to place bets amongst themselves.

"Of course, Prime Minister." Mandalore turned slowly, a trace a smile still on her face. "One can only learn so much with their face in the dust."

She was sweaty from playing with the Prince in the hot sun, and her muscles glistened in the light as she paced back towards the center of the circle.

[Salem Ave]

Tristan sat down at the edge of the ring, his fatigue obvious in the laborious rise and fall of his chest. As Salem moved into the centre of the circle, he squinted against the sun to get a better look at the man. It hadn't crossed his mind that Ave would fight too, being a politician and all, but then again he himself was a Prince and was quite capable of doing so – at least, against an equal opponent. With his cloak removed, Tristan now saw that the Prime Minister was not as lean in body as he was in speech. He had a robust figure, though was perhaps not as overtly muscular as his opponent.

“You may begin, of course, Mandalore...”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The words had scarcely left Salem's lips when she flew at him, hoping to catch him off guard. Lilaena covered the remaining distance between them very quickly, feinting with her right and then unleashing a controlled left fist directly to his sternum.

Instead of swinging her arm to punch, she shoved it forward 'from the hip' as it were, and put as much power behind it as she could without using the Force. It was a blow designed to pop the air out of his lungs, if she could get it past his defenses, or before he could get his defenses up.

[Salem Ave]

Kings and Queens often bore regalia of their status, yet when Salem took his rightful place at the head of the galaxy, he would have no need to seek out such things; he had them already. In Razielle, he found found the sovereign's blade, the subtle dagger held so close to his heart. In Adraudia, he had found the orb, the symbol of dominion and absolute authority. Now, the trinity was completed at last, by the scepter, his mace. Whether she knew it or not, the name he had given Lilaena was more than just a title, and she was already living up to it. What better way to make a lasting impression upon the Hapan Prince, to forge him into compliance, than with a hammer?

It was their first bout, hand to hand, since they had become allies. Salem had taken it is a given that she would have sufficient skills with melee combat, negating his need to teach her. His assumption had not been wrong. There was a clear precision in the way she moved and as Tristan watched the two of them clash, he wondered if she hadn't been holding back all along, simply toying with him. If that were so, there was no doubt in his mind that she had unleashed her full skill upon Salem Ave – yet the Prime Minister seemed to match her well, the two of them grappling and twisting with one another, in a fierce dance.

[Razielle Alastor]

“Your dress is quite beautiful. The Queen Mother has chosen such wonderfully complimentary colours...”

The dress was of an ivory satin, covered in layers of hand made lace. It had tight fitting sleeves which ended in delicate points upon the backs of her hands. It was tight fitting about the waist, with a square-necked bodice. Beneath she would wear a tightly laced corset, pushing the assets of her young flesh upward and cinching in her already small waist. The skirts were many flowing layers that would float around her legs, and the entire ensemble was edged with tiny rosettes and genuine jewels the exact amethyst hue of her eyes. The silk stockings and gaters were too pretty to be worn out of sight but were designed for the grooms pleasure when they would be revealved on her slender legs, upon the wedding night. Dainty heeled slippers with more rosettes would cover her stockinged toes. The veil was a foating cloud of the most lovely lace she'd ever seen and the total effect would make her look like an innocent angel of light...

She hated it instantly, of course, but it was lovely.

After the ceremony she would place two additonal sashes over the gown, one representing her connection to House Basillie, and another proclaiming her a Princess of Hapes. Oh joy.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena's eyes flashed as she threw herself at Salem, enjoying the opportunity to show him what she could do. Perhaps she could best him... after all this was merely a show of physical strength and prowess, not a battle of Force abilities.

He offered her few openings, and each time she saw one she hesitated, looking for the trap behind it. Each hesitation opened herself up for additional punishment as Salem was not a babe in arms like the Crown Prince of Hapes had been.

Lilaena shoved her second guesses to the wayside, and she used the next opening in Salem's defenses to reach in and grab him in such a way that she could throw him over her hip and to the ground.

[Salem Ave]

Perhaps unexpectedly, Salem fell. Dust rose around him as his body struck the ground, and what might have been a gasp sounded from somewhere around the ring. An expression bordering between a grimace and a grin pulled at his lips, as he kicked back to his feet. Without the Force at his command, Salem wasn't quite so quick as Lilaena – though the handicap did not do anything to dull his strength. At the next opening, he lunged for, attempting to lock her head in a strangle-hold.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She had a moment of self-satisfaction as her new master slammed into the dust, but it was almost her undoing. He kicked back to his feet and lunged at her, knocking them both to the ground and grappling for a choke hold around her neck.

Lilaena gasped and hunched underneath him. He had her back, which left her extremely vulnerable, but he had yet to capitalize fully by hooking his legs around her body. She twisted frantically, bucking to loosen his hold on her, and managed to get halfway out and turned around, her head free for the moment. From this position she couldn't attack him, only defend as he tried to punch her in the face - hitting her forearms instead.

Kicking with purpose now, she tried to dislodge him even further so she might get out from under him.

[Salem Ave]

<meta http-equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 3.0 (Win32)"><style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> Another flurry of dust rose into the air as Salem was shoved aside. At the edge of the combat ring, many of the fights spectators had risen to their feet and were watching with eager interest as Mandalore and the Prime Minister tumbled about in the dirt. Ave was up on his feet again, his center of gravity low and a predatory darkness to his expression as he poised like a serpent waiting for the right moment to strike.