When Worlds Collide

Posted on Tue Dec 15th, 2020 @ 10:39am by Lieutenant Dessame Sar & Lieutenant Commander Savin

Mission: The Shadow of Arachne
Location: Gymnasium
2327 words - 4.7 OF Standard Post Measure

Work out time.

It wasn't necessarily pretty but still very much needed to work off the stress. The Pico problem, Lt. Commander Brill and the plot of Thalaron and cloning had worked her up so much she needed to hit something. Hard.

She was hitting the gyms punching bag. She wore a small sports bra and tight fitting joggers for the occasion. Something breathable. Dessame hit the bag with fury, with all the strength she could and had worked up quite a sweat in doing so, so much that she had to remove hair stuck to her face several times.

Savin had a similar idea, having taken the replica of his sword for safety purposes as he had expected others would be in the gym. Unlike Dessame, he wore wide fitting clothes of a deep blue colour for easy movement. He was on his way to the mat when he spotted the security chief from the corner of his eye and stopped short to observe her. He could quite easily sense her fury even if he didn't hear her grunts of exertion every time she punched the bag. He had to admit, she did look gorgeous as worked out, and she was seemingly still ignorant of his presence.

For a moment there was a nagging in her head. The feeling she got when her Betazoid senses wanted to tell her something and with one last hit she turned. It was Savin.

She couldn't help but let out a little smile as she grabbed the towel she had next to her and went over to him. She began wiping the sweat from her brow and then neck/chest area as she spoke. "Hi."

"Hi.." He returned, "I apologize if I disturbed your routine, that was not my intention..." He paused. "You seemed...angry?"

"Don't be silly, you didn't interrupt me." She said with a smile. "The galaxy is a horrible and frustrating place at times Savin... so the bag gets it. That is unless you want me to use a person? You volunteering for me to work up a sweat with you?" She teased, her eyes inviting so much thought.

"I believe the bag may be less sensitive about being hit," Savin smiled back, "but yes I could use a sparring partner, if you are interested?" He indicated his replica. "Do you have your staff with you?"

"I didn't." She replied rather despondently. "However, I can replicate a copy I am sure."

"Perhaps replicate two, and teach me how to use it?" Savin responded curiously, "it is probably safer too. While blunted this could still hurt you."

"Nothing wrong with a little pain Savin. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger... that's what Humans say." she said but relented in replicating two of her staff.

Dessame threw the staff towards him, she knew he'd catch it.

"Pain and injury are two different things," Savin answered as he caught the staff. He gave it an experimental swing through he held is as though he would hold a sword. "I would feel terrible if I injured you when it could be prevented."

"And I would never let you forget it." She smiled as she moved towards him. "But you don't hold it like a sword at the base. You need to hold it in the middle, like this." she said placing his hands further up staff. "You need to find the balance, where you are able to feel the even weight on both ends of the staff so that when you use it it becomes a part of your body."

Her touch was like electricity and he almost pulled his hand back. Instead he tried to find a balance with the staff, giving a few experimental swings as he moved his hands a little further apart. "Like this?" he asked, feeling terribly awkward with the wooden weapon.

"You're a little stiff and pardon the pun, wooden." Dessame laughed softly. "You are doing well though, you know how to handle a weapon. This is just a different kind. Watch my movements."

For a moment she closed her eyes and began to move the Cresana in slow almost dancelike movements. It was almost effortless as the staff moved with grace and speed but at the same time it was as if it was a part of her own body in the ease of such. As the finished the movement she placed the edge of the staff on the mat and opened her eyes.

Savin watched her in open awe, slowly mirroring some of her -in his eyes- very graceful moves. Feeling out of his element, he grimaced as he managed to knock himself in the shin. "You are very good at it," he praised, "how long did it take you to get this good?"

"I am still learning." Dessame admitted. "I started the year after..." she paused before reasserting herself. "When I was 16, so I have only been practising for 11 years. Trust me, my shins still haven't forgiven me for the assault they were put under when I was younger." she laughed a little. "Even worse when you smack yourself in the face."

"Yes I have done that swinging practice weapons," Savin chuckled as he rubbed his own shin, "trust me, getting an ahn-woon in your face is no joke either... hence, not my weapon of choice." He gave the wooden stick another few practice swings, finally getting a feel for it - a little anyway. "Eleven years is quite some time to perfect one's combat style. Is it more a defensive, or offensive type?"

"It can be a bit of a mix dependant on the individual." Dessame admitted. "I would use it for defence. It can be good for disarming an opponent with a weapon, gives good range to keep yourself safe, it is good for hitting pressure points and redirecting opponents strikes." Dessame smiled as Savins confidence grew. "I started it by the request of my therapist as a way of channelling what happened to me when I was younger. I suppose it has helped to a degree."

"That it would," Savin answered in approval, "it is similar to why I picked up sword fighting. Hone my other senses because I cannot hear." He stepped out and gave the stick an experimental swing as he pivoted.

"I think if you have training in a weapon then learning a new one is easier." Dessame said. "I know when I began with the Cresana that I have no idea how to hold it, how to use it with the flow of my body and energy." she said as she gracefully moved with the staff before swiftly moving it downwards with a quick but deft landing of its edge on the mat.

"You do appear extremely competent," Savin praised her, his eyes never leaving her as he shifted to keep her in his line of sight. "I am trained to use a Lirpa, which is also a staff like weapon I suppose, but it does not compare to this. They are very heavy and cumbersome to use."

"The wood we use is dense but light. So it is easy to move but when it hits, it leaves a mark." Dessame explained. "Each Cresana is different in the style. Some are smaller, some use two smaller sticks called Cresanois, some like mine are the long staffs. We choose our own designs the decorate the weapon, mine being flowers from my home colony world. A reminder." She said simply.

Savin nodded in understanding but otherwise didn't enquire. This was not a counseling session and he didn't want to put her off unless she did want to talk about it. "What kind of flowers are they?" He asked as he stepped out in an attempt to sweep her legs away from under her.

"Frekali flowers." she replied as they continued to spar. This time she swung the staff at head height. "They grew everywhere on Kolacia. The most vibrant red I have ever seen. My sister, Ubil, loves them too."

He stepped back to avoid being clouted over the head, ducking sideways a little, pivoting to block her strike with his own stick. "Do you carve them, or do you also paint them?" he continued, shifting into an attacking stance once more.

"We carve them, some choose to paint their carvings, others do not." she said telepathically as he attacked and she parried his offensive move.

And you? he asked, swinging another strike towards her head, or where he assumed her head would be once she finished her move. Do you paint them? He was grateful for their connection as speaking and sparring wasn't something he was capable of under normal circumstances.

Dessame foresaw his move. As an experienced wielder of this weapon she had the confidence to predict how people would react when holding the staff. With those unfamiliar with her particular discipline moves could be well read. "I paint a petal of a flower for every month that goes by as a reminder of where I am from and what happened to my home."

And what when it is fully painted? He asked, wincing as her staff painfully struck his left arm. He flexed his arm and shifted his stance, focusing on his weaker right side to continue. Again, he failed to follow up and ask her what had happened to her home, but he did so on purpose. Do you start a new one?

As Savin shifted he managed to catch her in the side. For a moment she held it in slight discomfort before looking at him with a smile as if to say well done. "Not necessarily. I choose to paint mine this way for my own reasons, other people do not paint their own for their reasons. When it is finished, it will simply be done. For me, I hope it means I am at peace with my past."

So it is a form of therapy? It was genuine interest, not an intent to pry. He paused as he watched her hold her side. Are you alright?

"All about balance. Therapy is about finding that so I suppose it is a kind of such." she noticed his concern then smiled. "I am fine. Nothing I cannot handle."

Are you sure? He shifted his stance to a left-handed combat pose again, studying her, trying to anticipate her next move. You are correct about therapy. He acknowledged with a slight nod. And there are more ways to do it, than just talk to a counselor. This was to indicate that he did approve of any form of therapy, as long as it worked for the subject in question.

Dessame nodded to his first question to indicate she was alright. Yes, that is why I enjoy it. You may have noticed I am not the most talkative.

He just smiled. You may have noticed I am not trying to make you talk. He replied as he launched another attack.

She did notice that but still she was not pointing it out. Dessame parried the attack with a side shift and allowed Savins body to carry him forward as she tapped the back of his knee. This caused a momentary misstep as his leg bent as a reflex to the touch but he quickly recovered and turned to face her. She stood ready with a small cheeky smirk on her face. He was doing well and it made her a little proud.

"Clever..." He said as he massaged the back of his knee. "You are holding back on me, that is unnecessary." He shifted, launching into another attack, aiming to strike at her side once again, but changing it to target her thigh instead at the last second.

It was true, she was holding back. If he wanted her to stop then she would but she would try not to injure him too much. "As you wish." she let out a little grin as he attacked once more.

Dessame noticed his attack was favouring her side but she knew he was smarter than that. At the last second she saw his eyes shift to her leg, and the subsequent shift in movement of the Cresana. She planted her staff into the ground and spun around his movement. Savin continued to move in his attack move without noticing the speed in which Dessame could actually move and the grace in which she did it.

Savin's attack hit her staff as she moved it in a motion that would disarm him of his weapon. It one, two movements there was a clatter of Savin's Cresana. Dessame moved in close and impacted his abdomen lightly enough to cause a loss of composure and as he began to bend in a typical response to such threw her staff behind him and swooped his legs out from underneath. He forcibly landed on his back with a thud and she threw herself on top of him, sitting on his waist. In most situations she would continue the assault but instead she placed a kiss on his lips.

"I win." she said softly and a little out of breath. She could feel the heat emanating from their bodies, the sweat of their fight still very much alive.

Feeling winded from his knock to the deck, Savin was surprised by her swiftness as she straddled him and prevented him, pretty much, from getting up. His eyes widened as she kissed him. "Yes," he breathed, very aware of her proximity. "You win. What will you claim as prize?"

"Oh my dear..." she said channelling her inner matriarch of older years yet to come. "What makes you think I have not already claimed it?" she said flicking his nose playfully.