Scene #7853: The Clash of the Strong

Owner	Pose
Miyamomo	The sun sets on The Stank. This lovingly named slum lives up to its name, with fetid smells rising up from the swampy soil underfoot. Here, buildings gradually sink into the muck to become foundations for the next shoddily constructed hovel that will replace it. By day, people sleep off hangovers and their unappealing jobs, doing their best to hide from the smell exacerbated by the sun. By night however, The Stank is a brave tourist hotspot for its popular dives and concentration of alternative indie artists performing at said dives. It is not quite sunset yet, the sun sitting on the horizon and only about to sink. On the outskirts of The Stank, deeper into the marshes where gnarled dead trees grope at the sky and the drone of flies permeates the air. Hardy grasses sprout in between deep pools of standing water. Miyamomo pings her co-ordinates. The smoke of her pipe mingles with the rank air as she sits on a log, awaiting her opponent.
Evehime Gevurah	Even if the stakes should come down from the previous dizzying heights of 'someone seeking the rush of nearing a glorious warrior's death' and to the significantly more sane (relatively speaking) level of 'wanting to see what the hot mysterious fox lady can do after she metaphorically hit and ran last time', this is a strange and ignominous choice of field to choose all the same. The Gevurah had left it to the kitsune's discretion on something of a curious whim, but . . . <Q-Conversation> Evehime Gevurah says, "You've chosen strangely, Master of the Nameless Style. Have I mistaken your tastes?" <Q-Conversation> Miyamomo says, "I wanted a place where we would not be bothered, would not bother anyone, and with an abundance of drinks nearby for afterwards~" <Q-Conversation> Miyamomo says, "Are you concerned by the smell? Have I mistaken you?" <Q-Conversation> Evehime Gevurah says, "Compared to that of a real battlefield, this is nothing. But it seems a poor choice of field for a martial artist." <Q-Conversation> Miyamomo says, "True, true. The ground is not ideal. Perhaps I simply want to show off~ Show that my Nameless Style can overcome such things." <Q-Conversation> Miyamomo says, "Or maybe this is simply a poor tactical decision! Ufufu." Well, wearing just about knee high boots is to Evehime's advantage in some senses. One could say her weight definitely isn't, as each footfall drives her inches into even the firmer, marshy earth, but that seems to be of absolutely no concern to her. Though the trees here are certainly dead and dried out, and won't likely be safe for long, the woman's approach needlessly breaks none of them, taking a slightly winding route through the interplay of long shadows, slats of sunset light, dark pools, and gleaming reflections, up to the source of the smoke. "By your appearance, I had thought you were a creature of finer things. But by your nature, you must still be a 'wild thing', it would seem." she says upon finally encountering Miyamomo. The boggy surroundings and dim lighting do astoundingly little to dim the overwhelming, unmissable feeling of sub-articulate human primacy about her, though its overpowering realness takes a slight dip into the uncanny direction with so many detail-smudging shadows. "Well, how I will judge your tastes is something that will come later. 'Entertainment' is nostalgic. But the thing that you possess; that is a priceless treasure, is it not? Show me."
Miyamomo	"Oh, I like the softer, finger things very much~" Miyamomo says, standing from the log and licking her thumb before pressing it down on the bowl of the pipe. "But I am neither wild nor domestic. I am a fighter, first and foremost. And when the time comes to do battle, anywhere will do." She stands, tucking the pipe away in her robe and considers Evehime. More specifically, her size. Her girth. "I've been pondering this ever since you challenged me. Of late, I have been testing my ideas about battle. Strategies, approaches, methods, philosophies... all ones that I considered and incorporated into the Nameless Style. For if the foundations are unsteady, can I truly say that the finished product is as perfect as I claim? But when it comes to you..." Another appreciated look at Evehime's muscles. "I don't think an untested approach can overcome you. But I worry that the Nameless Style, if it is anything less than perfect, would falter against you also." "And so, I will continue my studies. I'm sure you might be disappointed that you face Sand Style instead. But I swear, once I have affirmation that the Nameless Style is everything I dreamed, I'll show it to you." She assumes a stance. Her legs wide and knees bent, placing her low to the ground even as the swamp swallows her feet. Arms extended before her, palms facing Evehime. It's evocative of sumo, and other high-stability martial arts. She intends to be as a mountain, taking any coming blows. So why is it called 'Sand?'
Persephone Kore	Phony comes from the direction of town, her smile utterly undimmed by the less pleasant aspects of the area. In fact, they seem to simply evaporate around her. As she walks, her heels clack against something solid millimeters above the marshy ground, never picking up mud or sinking in. The muggy air and flies are gently parted around her in elegant ribbons of fog, since I've decided I don't want to deal with things like that! Judging by her easy smile and unwrinkled nose, she must be doing the same for the smell, consciously or not. She holds a glass bottle of some terribly cheap beer in one hand and wears an irrepressibly sunny smile on her face. Her own aura of warmth and 'realness' is noticeable if one really looks at her- a sense of weight, of spiritual gravitas, like holding a religious artifact in your hands, or seeing Jupiter's red spot through a telescope on a warm night at summer camp and really knowing that it could swallow the Earth. Everything else around her feels like a hollow plastic toy by comparison. But at the moment, it's subdued and understated. I'm smart enough to know when I'm not the one in the limelight!! Instead, as she approaches, she gives an overly-cheery wave and a look at both the combatants that might as well be sparkly-eyed. "I'm sorry!! I really absolutely had to come. But you can just pretend like I'm not here, okay? Actually, I insist on it!" To Miyamomo: "You're the one who asks fighting questions on the radio a lot, aren't you. I really didn't expect you to be so... femme? Ahahah, but it's an amazing look anyway! I'm really no good at this kind of thing, so I'm sure I'll learn lots by watching." To Evehime: "Yeah, I can feel it. You really are special, aren't you? Not in that way, but in your own." A little pause for thought. "You made yourself that tall on purpose, didn't you? Haha, I could never get away with that, but it looks great! Do you think I could touch your arm afterwards?" When the battle looks likely to commence, she steps a decent distance away and sits down on a stump- far enough to not be a nagging presence in one's peripheral vision, but still within the 'splash zone'. She doesn't seem worried.
Evehime Gevurah	"You have the bearing of one. Though you hide it well." Evehime replies, physically too-bright blue eyes tracking down to the pipe and lingering. The way her gaze moves is a little eerie. It doesn't seem to properly saccade, even when it shifts quickly back up. "I did give you more than ample time to choose. To hear 'anywhere will do', perhaps I hadn't motivated you well enough? Yet with the other one, it seemed as if I had done too much." Closing her eyes, Evehime exhales slowly, and rolls her shoulders. Despite the fact that it isn't all that cold, her breath fogs at length from her lips. "Well, I'm certain that I will find the right balance soon. By now, I am less certain that I remember as well as I think, how things like these went." And then Persephone shows up. Evehime knows her voice now, of course, but they'd never met, and much as Hiromi often bemoans, the radio is a wonderful tool for everything except getting across the finer, more important parts of a person's presence. Evehime picks up the click-clack of Phony's heels long before she comes into view, though her eyes lock onto her in the dark unerringly all the same. When Persephone comes into view, the look on the taller woman's face is one of tiny movements and realignments she might recognize, describable (inelegantly, albeit) as 'seeing parts of someone's brain turn back on', like after having to answer a difficult question fresh out of bed. Her reaction to Persephone's incredibly forward round of slightly baffling assertions is to work her fingers under her hair behind her neck (currently in a state of 'completely uncontrolled waves held mostly down only by sheer weight and volume') and tilt her head against her forearm in slightly offput vexation. "Fighting requires strength. One who fights must be strong. Fighting tests endurance. One who survives fights must endure. Those who insist they require neither are, at best, children playing at combat before they are ready, at worst, charlatans given false confidence by their small foes. Worse than impatient beginners, they refuse to change their shapes as ther humanity gave them the power to do so." That appears to be her answer to 'why so big'. Sort of. She glances Persephone down. "Though, strangely enough, it would seem that those that have caught my eye thusfar have all been women. I wonder, now, if this is something of the infinite world's 'design'." She turns back to Miyamomo, lowering her arm. "You will wish to move back. I can tell already that what you seem to be is not all that you are. But you will likely be in danger shortly." Refocused. "Sand Style is it? You need no special style to come at me low, 'Master'. I hope the extent of your planning was not that the soft ground and your small height would play to your advantage. Let's see . . . how shall I?" Evehime visibly debates on what to do with her own stance, the relative placement of her hands and feet oscillating for a little while, and then settles on something with one clenched fist held up close to her face and one open palm hanging low, body turned side-on to Miyamomo. Immediately obvious is that this would make a sumo rush or ground tackle an incredibly difficult approach. It's probably more of a surprise when the appraising silence before a match, without a ref to call it in, barely lasts three seconds, when Evehime turns her hips and thrusts her low hand out with something like fa-jin, instead of a flicker jab from the shoulder it'd be better suited for. Of course it's still far faster than any jab ever devised by any mortal fighter, but more dramatically, it sounds like an artillery cannon going off. The trees creak and buckle backwards, standing water cavitates in a shallow hemispheroid shape away from her, and a wave of mist blasts outwards, with a flash of what is . . . probably qi(?) crossing the distance between Evehime and Miyamomo to deliver all the force without waltzing into grappling range.
Miyamomo	"Ah, an auidence~ Yes, that is I. Miyamamo, master of the Nameless Style, glad to meet you~" the kitsune says in response to Persephone. "Femme? Ahahah, I shall take it as a compliment!" she says, with the air of someone who has no idea what it means. Turning to face Evehime again, she nods politely in response as she grumbles. "Oh, I would never think to be so underhanded as to choose a place that disadvantages you and not I. This is to be a fair bout." The punch cracks the air and impacts against Miyamomo as she raises her arms to soak it. But immediately, the sound of it impacting against honed muscle and bone, the way it drives Miyamomo back, the damp earth sloughing behind her... it seems wrong. But immediately, she's emerging from it, covering the distance again. As expected, she goes low, grappling at Evehime's legs, arms around legs and just physically lifting her to topple her to the ground, even as the ground swallows her up from the weight of them both. And then she mounts Evehime and just goes to town, a flurry of jabs and strikes, punches and precise finger pokes, aimed not at vitals, but to exhaust.
Persephone Kore	"Oh. Your body's not just a symbol," Persephone says, cupping her cheek in her hand and tapping her temple with one finger in deep thought. Her eyes briefly fuzz over, staring past Evehime rather than at. "You couldn't just 'decide' that another shape should work just as well? No, I guess that doesn't fit. It wouldn't be 'Severity' to do that." She smiles at her own conclusion. Her eyebrows lift with delight as her suspicion is confirmed. "So you did make yourself that way. Most people never change their shapes on purpose. I'm proud of you for finding a body you're happier in!" Then she cups both cheeks at once, expression marveling. "Only has eyes for girls, huh..." Persephone answers Miyamomo with a heartmeltingly smile so rich that her eyes shut as if she were about to laugh. "Ah, sorry- I'm Persephone. It absolutely is a compliment!! That dress-" of course she wouldn't know the real term- "is so flattering on you. And those tails- actually, do you use human shampoo or pet shampoo for them? I've always wondered." Evehime's "You will wish to move back" would elicit protest, if Persephone had any warriorly ego at all. But I don't! Because I'm not. So "okay! You know best," she says sunnily, floating back another little ways and seating herself on the branch of a tree instead. It doesn't really look like it ought to hold her weight. Her beer ripples inside its bottle from the reverberations of the initial exchange. She is wordlessly awestruck, though her eyes struggle to follow Miyamomo's movements. Her thoughts aren't distracting, but if one listens, one can 'hear' them in the ebb and flow of her aura. These are both great warriors, right? So to understand them, I've got to try and think like a warrior too. Let's see... if I'm thinking like a fighter, what was the point of that energy blast? It wasn't the strongest attack Evehime could've thrown. But it didn't put her in danger, either. You throw an attack like that at the start... to figure out your opponent, right? To see how they respond. That's really smart. But Miyamomo isn't answering in kind. That charging attack- it's scary, but it puts her right in harm's way too. Does she already know everything she needs to about Evehime? Or is she just more aggressive aout finding out? To decide that in a fraction of a second... haha, you're amazing, Miyamomo! I could never keep up with that.
Evehime Gevurah	"It means that you are more womanly and attractive to her than she had expected." Evehime helpfully says to Miyamomo, with the air of someone who is pretty sure that they get it because the root word seems simple, and nothing else. "Take it as one. It is known to be exceptionally difficult to attain competence as a fighter while retaining 'feminine charm', though in this case it may be unfairly given." It doesn't take a mind reader to figure out that means 'because kitsune, duh', but it's Persephone who can detect the licking embers of slightly put-out dissatisfaction, verging on self-consciousness. "One cannot become the apex of something while still rejecting it. For humans, our bodies are meant to reflect our choices. Style it as you will. Make it yours. Interpret your purpose in your own way. But fighting to avoid accepting its shape into your own is wasting your energy against your own efforts. A way to think of it would be 'pride in one's work'." Then she isn't conscious of a whole lot but two hundred different permutations of 'the opening board state' shortly after. Miyamomo is sent sliding back. "Oh? You're sturdier than that soft frame would suggest. I see; you're using the ground to absorb shock, as it coagulates under pressure, full of water. But, you know, I wonder if your muscles, your bones, can take it?" Miyamomo tackles Evehime at the legs. Evehime's knees bend to lower her center of gravity, shaking the ground as if she'd increased her own weight by doing so. Her low hand is poised directly to intercept, and flashes out again with blinding gun-crack speed, striking once, twice, directly to the head, angled at the top to cause whiplash and unconsciousness, and then retracting sharply as her foot explodes up out of the mud as if it weren't even there, aimed to hit Miyamomo in the midsection. Making direct contact, each hit now feels like the kind that should turn a human body into red particle effects, and now Evehime's legs, especially in this side stance, are simply too far apart to reach both of with Miyamomo's arms. Grabbing her anyways though, at least Miyamomo doesn't have to contend with 'actually overpowering that strength', but merely 'half a ton of weight'. Miyamomo climbs on top. The stagnant water and liquid ground suddenly cavitates around Evehime as she falls backwards. It isn't like a shockwave, or even something she consciously did to keep it away from her. Rather, the truth is very simple: The water was not a threat before. Now it is a factor in combat. And I will not be inconvenienced, never mind defeated, by being pushed under water. Finally, that same issue, which had walled out the woman Miyamomo had saved, is directly under her hands. Tangibly, it feels as if Miyamomo is trying to strike her opponent while wearing heavy magnetic knuckles of the wrong polarity. Visibly, a fine seam of dying sunlight is caught in an endless ring around Evehime, flickering up like a glimpse of a Biblical Halo with each strike. But more deeply sensed, each blow is met with the feeling of No. Too half-hearted. Do it properly. Such a testing strike is beneath me.
Evehime Gevurah	"You're faster than I thought. I had planned to deliver a few more blows like that if you were outrageous enough to tackle. And far stronger. I expected, perhaps, pressure points? But as much as I don't mind this view at all . . ." says Evehime, just before she throws out her own blows from her downed positioned. The common sense of any fighters knows that there's no way to throw a good punch from under a proper mount; that striking goes out the window when it's taken to ground grappling. Such are Miyamomo's instincts then tested when she throws what is both a bizarre kind of 'one-inch uppercut', and aimed precisely at the spots the liver, kidneys, and diaphragm would be in a human. Far from simple landing strikes to cause pain, each one causes the air to bend and 'lance' in a visible, blown-glass way, even through Miyamomo, pulverizing dry branches (thankfully, so far) directly above. It feels like being on the bottom of a mount instead of the top, just due to the overwhelmingly gap of raw strength that allows this preposterous option to exist. Simply being mounted isn't nearly enough to win a grapple versus the Gevurah, as evidenced by the way she stands again the instant Miyamomo's assault falters, or her strategy changes.
Miyamomo	"Oh, you think I'm pretty!" Miyamomo titters as Evehime explains it. "Thank you~ I find that humans are far more forgiving of mistakes if a lovely face makes them. As a yokai, their rituals do my head in. I suppose I spent too much time learning how they fight~" "Oh yes, I'm quite sturdy! Perhaps I have compromised it some by not adopting a body like yours. But the human form's charm point is its endurance above all else!" Miyamomo had the right idea. A large frame like Evehime's becomes less use if taken to the floor. So she weathers that flurry of blows as she makes a grab for the legs. And now, with direct contact with the fox, she can feel that wrongness more keenly. The feedback isn't right... They're thrashing in the water as it bends away from Evehime and clings to Miyamomo. "Some kind of barrier? Her aura... so dense it turns my blows away, turns everything away! Immense in spirit and body both! Truly... this is the mountain embodied, the one I wished to scale!" She's laughing even as that one-inch uppercut slams into that vulnerable point below the ribs. And again, that strange feedback. It's like... Evehime did not hit once, but multiple times in succession. Even as the blow should have sent the smaller woman flying, her legs wrap around Evehime's waist and hold her there. Not just that, but she moves around the woman. "If her aura keeps water at bay, then that means her back becomes a valid place to be, even in this position!" In a blur, she has her right arm around the titan's neck, the using the elbow on the other to rain elbow strikes down, aiming to try and strike between the ribs to rattle the heart. Her right leg slams again and again against her back, trying to lance at Evehime's kidneys while the other wraps around for further support. The blows are slower than before, but it seems less like she's slowing down, and more like she's measuring her strikes, aiming precisely and striking with as much force as possible so as to try and get past her aura.
Persephone Kore	"Our bodies are meant to reflect our choices" rattles around in Persephone's head for a while, taking up free attention during the fight's scant lulls or moments of repetition. I can't think of why it wouldn't be true. So what choices does my body reflect? If I want to 'become the apex' of loving, giving, and caring, is this body suited for it? Haha, maybe I should get them to raise the ceilings after all. ... But it's sad that Evehime wants things she can't believe could go together. Phony takes a contemplative sip of her drink. The reverberations of the battle make her hair sway in the breeze, just a little. Her eyebrows lifted as Evehime was first taken to the ground, but they lift further as the grappling continues. Miyamomo thinks she's in a good position, having Evehime on the ground like that. But Evehime also thinks it's a good position, at least enough that she keeps attacking instead of trying to break free. They can't both be right, can they? One of the two is going to find out they were wrong, and break it off. But for now... Evehime simply 'deciding' not to be inconvenienced by the water draws a little eyes-shut, smiling sigh from Persephone. "There it is," she says out loud. "I was wondering when I'd get to see that. You don't use it to avoid needing to fight, because that wouldn't be like Evehime, right? Just to make sure that nothing can stop you from fighting. I like that, even though I shouldn't! It makes sense, and it's cute. You really must enjoy it." I can make sense of that. But what Miyamomo's doing, I can't understand it in the slightest. Shouldn't she be hurt a lot worse by now? I hadn't noticed it before, but when she gets hit, it doesn't look right. Is it a trick she can do with her body, or is it just magic? Ugh, she's really going to give me a headache. I can accept impossible things, but things that only seem impossible are so frustrating! "Even so, I can understand that opening now," Persephone says warmly, eyes shutting again as she rests her cheek in her palm. "It makes perfect sense for both of them. For Evehime, Miyamomo is a puzzle to understand. For Miyamomo, Evehime is a challenge to overcome. I like that a lot, actually."
Evehime Gevurah	Persephone says 'Nothing can stop you from fighting'. "'That' is what it means to usurp God. To exceed mastering God's design, and to embody it instead. Absolute Conviction can overturn anything. Even physical law. Perhaps 'especially' physical law. As if it were made to be. But my law says that I do not fear that which is unworthy of me. I need not fight that which is is tedious to." Miyamomo laughs. "Clearly you can take much more than this. That form is soft and inviting, but it seems that you would rather I be rough with you, no?" It really isn't clear on what level Evehime is doing that on purpose or not, but the fact that Miyamomo stays glued to her despite what should be a large number of debilitatingly painful and/or briefly crippling injuries tells her all she needs to know about forcing her off with 'soft measures' like that. "Is this-- --part of the secret of your 'Sand Style'?" The Gevurah clearly feels something off too. "Very well!" With a bit of a roar (for show?), Evehime kicks up her legs from beneath Miyamomo's position on her waist, and rather than transitioning to the usual martial artist 'kip up', the motion simply launches her into the air, heels over head, so that she crunches back into the empty crater on her feet with a lightning fast, compact spin. The fact that the kitsune expertly maintains her hold by shifting to that position makes a sound that evinces being, for the first time, not just 'satisfied', but actually a little impressed, but her arm around the woman's throat is all that she needs to know that choking her won't be possible; it's a point of leverage at best, otherwise she might as well try to strangle a steel column. Miyamomo hones her strikes. Her precise aim --no, it's more like her 'focused intent'?-- carries her further than before. Less of the force bleeds away. Her elbows and knees aren't woefully unable to reach her foe. She makes physical contact, though even with her tremendous strength, it is still much too light to cause the damage she's looking for. Here she also feels the practical reality in their difference in size; when differences in superhuman strength and toughness are discounted, simply having that much more muscle between a strike and a vital point wraps everything right back around to the nitty gritty difficult mechanics that perfectly ordinary fighters grapple with. What that Halo demands from her --even greater force, precision, conviction in her blows-- is outrageously unfair on top of what it'd already take to piece through Evehime's ridiculous body. And worse still, being tightly latched to her like this, Miyamomo is in no position to fail to notice that the partial negated force of her attacks hasn't dispersed into the air and ground, but is trapped with her. Perhaps, better described, her less serious attacks have been caught in Evehime's gravity, locked in orbit around the immense well of a 'singularity' of conviction. Though kinetic force itself is invisible, Miyamomo can probably imagine, from her sense of touch, something like a ring of saturn, pelting her with hundreds of little rocks that are like droplets of her own shattered punches. "Very well then! Show me more, oh 'Master'! Stay right there if it pleases you! If you want to make this a contest of wills, then that is exactly what we shall have! Hahaha!" Evehime slams her fingers into the earth, and though regardless of any level of strength, only a wet clump should come out, instead she digs free a gigantic boulder of bedrock, the size of a truck trailer, and in the same motion . . .
Evehime Gevurah	'Martial arts' go out the window a second later. From her crouched position, Evehime uncoils, blurs, flickers, and then disappeares in front of Persephone's eyes faster than her mind could process it. As Evehime had warned, the trees for a solid mile around flatten themselves out, those within half that distance simply exploding into sodden fragments, caught in the shrieking wind. The ground falls away in the blink of an eye, flattening into a semisphere crater that swallows the clearing, and then turns hard and black and glossy as the sheer force causes it to change states. Water leaps skyward, but only beyond its bounds; in the center of the bowl, there is only a column of steam. Evehime has gone straight up. With Miyamomo in tow. So fast that the wind itself is a deadly weapon. So high that ears bleed and lungs strain to catch any air. Before she jumped though, in the same split instant, she'd thrown the boulder ahead of her. It's visible as a streak of fire half its original size, which she has caught up to in under a second. For an instant, it looks like the purpose is to smash Miyamomo into it, but then Evehime spins herself around in midair, hits it boots first, and propels herself from its downward face straight back into the earth. The boulder is blown to a million little pieces that will soon escape Earth's gravity. Evehime barely has time to experience gravity before powerbombing herself --and Miyamomo-- back to Earth at such speed that the collateral damage from jumping in the first place is completely erased by the micro-nuclear catastrophe of the landing.
Miyamomo	"If you're going soft on me Evehime, I won't forgive you! I'll take everything you have!" Miyamomo yells. It's very clear that this is not deliberate. She means that only in the sense of battle. Evehime reaches down for a rock, and Miyamomo's brain screams to figure out her plan. "Toss it up and let it fall on me? No, she knows I'm much too fast for it, so why-" It is launched into the air, and Evehime follows in the same way that a rocket takes off. The kitsune's mad laughter is snatched away as the wind scours her face. But as Evehime kicks off that rock to come back down... she can feel it. Persephone can feel it. Miyamomo seems lackadaisical, not all 'there.' And she isn't. But here, in this moment, the fog is clear. The airy pleasantness of a doddering old woman wrapped in the appealing form of a young one vanishes like morning fog under the burning sun. And with it gone is a single, burning hot pinprick of mad intent. The madness that leads one into roaming the world, infiltrating human society, just to learn how they fight bare-handed. The madness that leads one to hide in a cave and enwrap oneself in illusions for centuries purely for the purposes of shadow boxing. The madness to transcend the very reason of one's own existence and carve out a new one through sheer practice and effort. Miyamomo breaks the grapple and leaps off Evehime's back to land in the blink before she does. And then her arms begin to move. Palms slapping the mountain of a woman, over and over, again and again, each strike pushing against the insane falling force, counteracting it. The truth ofSand Style becomes clear. Those earlier strikes that never seemed as clean as they should have been. Miyamomo was not being hit by them, but moving with them. Like the paradox of the hare chasing the turtle but never catching up due to the infinities of small distances the turtle moved while the hare gave chase, Miyamomo moved with each hit, allowing the blow to touch her, but never sink in, never deliver the full force of the impact. This obviously has the immediate effect of reducing incoming damage. But the mental damage can't be overlooked. To deny the 'expectation' of the blow landing cleanly. To make the incoming appendage feel the sensation of a thousand tiny impacts instead of one big one. That, coupled with the strikes Miyamomo has been landing. Blows designed to cripple and exhaust, not decisively take down. Sand Style is a war of attrition. To exhaust your opponent before they can break you. To be as sand itself. One can shatter a rock, part water, extinguish fire. But to strike sand is foolish. It will only part in response to your blows. And even if you break it, sand will become more sand.
Evehime Gevurah	'I'll take everything you have.' "You will, won't you? Excellent." In that explosive moment of re-entry and impact, where air and water and earth all break down under the strain and become one, shedding their distinctions and finding unity in transmuting into 'fire', where Miyamomo makes her move to halt an even greater, celestial catastrophe, Evehime makes a move of her own. From out of the blaze, a blossom of lavender light. Within that light, ten thousand more lights. Steam flash-condenses into perfect glassy droplets, held eerily still in the air within tiny rainbows, reflecting the world around them. The space between Miyamomo and Evehime kalaeidoscopes, and then suddenly seems to grow. The Gevurah calls out a single untranslated word like a battle cry: "¤Vaironanta¤!", and then flames become incense smoke, rumbling shockwaves become the clattering of bells, and Evehime hits the ground weightlessly, though it ripples like an endless pool out from beneath her. There's barely time to appreciate the change in outfit and atmosphere. The rather simple and practical black clothes she had on before have disappeared in place of streamers of violet cloth, laced bands of gold, a trailing scarf-like mantle of bright orange, and the mercury silver partial gloves and closed sandals covering Evehime's hands and feet, each with their own prismatic corona. Tiny pearls and brass bells jingle on golden threads, and flowers matching the purple streak seem to have caught in her hair. Just as suddenly, her fighting style changes so completely that it's as if Miyamomo were battling a different person who simply happened to have Evehime's attributes. Her Sand-Style attacks are overwhelmed in sheer number and speed by what feels like Evehime's hands being in eight places at once, subtle expansions and contractions of distorting space weaving countless mirror bright fists all around her assault. The two aspects of 'overwhelming assault' and 'active interception' are in full force, as Evehime's monstrous speed and strength overtax and overwhelm 'precision of placement', and her technique --one of straights that become hooks, thrusts that become palms, defensive slaps that accelerate into deadly chops, and soft catches that overpower and throw clenched fists back-- clearly defies physics in some several regards, each movement being like ten movements that are somewhat like it, chosen moment to moment so that the need for defense is subsumed and reflected in the offense itself. The saying about the spider's web comes to mind, unbidden. "I understand the purpose of your 'Sand Style' now! Upon seeing that one's power crumple to nothing on me, you thought it would be best to aim 'underneath' my power instead! To recognize the gap in strength and fortitude and account for it with your own strategy; you aren't called 'Master' for nothing! You are well-worth sharing my treasure with! Let us test the Sand Style against the Path of Infinite Steps!"
Persephone Kore	Phony beams dotingly and starts to sincerely clap when the boulder's thrown. It proves premature. Every tree is flattened or torn to pieces, except for exactly one. Persephone's reaction is sparkly-eyed slack-jawed awe as her gaze fails to follow the leap, followed an instant later by the near-instinctive wish of I don't want to be hurt by that! It doesn't come an instant too soon. The shockwave parts around her as it's telekinetically stilled, leaving her perch as the only tree in a mile-wide clearing. Leaping almost into space... she really is special. Not that I ever doubted! But I'm just as interested in their hearts as that spectacle. They're really opening up to me. Who could fight like that and stay guarded at the same time? I still think it's ugly, that a bullet or a sword or a kick could just erase someone from being. It seems awful and unfair, doesn't it? That we don't get a say in that. But you make it seem pretty. What kind of beauty did you see in it, Miyamomo? What captivated you so much? I like to say I understand everything, but I'm not sure I understand that yet. It's a dance too harsh for me to ever like. A poetry that the world, not humans, set the meter for. ... But if it's secondhand, through you, I can almost see the edges of that prettiness you do. If I can understand that, maybe I can understand Evehime better too. What she saw in 'violence' before she got to decide what 'violence' is. Fractions of a second before the nuclear impact of reentry, Persephone prudently thinks Oh. I really don't want that to hurt me either!, and her tree-perch subsequently becomes an itty-bitty island of untouched marshland in a sea of scorched and blackened earth. She stares in naked shock at the impact, then continues staring for a second beat when she realizes Miyamomo is still conscious and fighting. Persephone only successfully tears her eyes away to look up at the sky, reach up, and telekinetically snag one of those boulder fragments screaming towards space to gracefully pull it down into her hand. It surreptitiously goes into her purse.
Miyamomo	Miyamomo retracts stinging hands as Evehime alights upon the world like a leaf lands upon a still lake. Her glorious transformation forces her to raise her arms to block the light, the smell of incense taking her back to old days in that sun-blighted land by the rivers. The onslaught that follows is immense, impossible. Sand Style does its best, but when there is always another blow to intercept the movement to nullify the first, and then four more after that, there's a limit to how a body can move to reduce the damage. She is driven back, overwhelemed, her arms and body twisting and turning as much as they can to mitigate the incoming damage. But eventually, she is sent sliding back. Her head lolls, but her body remains standing, arms still raised. For a moment it seems like she only stands through sheer experience, consciousness having abandoned her. But then it snaps upright, staring daggers at Evehime. "You WERE holding back! How many of those do you have?!" A blur once again, and she stands before Evehime, fist driving into her solar plexus as her foot stomps down on Evehime's. A trick that would get her penalized in any boxing ring. "What is your reason for not bringing it out until now?! I gave you mine for not using Nameless Style!" A follow-up strike to the sternum, aimed to crush the windpipe. "Take this seriously, Evehime Gevurah! As I am!"A chop to the throat, to deny all breath entirely.
Evehime Gevurah	Out of all the million choices of tactics, feats of fighting prowess, and cold equations of physics, that could be thrown at Evehime to even slow her assault, the one that actually works couldn't have been foreseen, and certainly couldn't have been intended. When what seems like the telling blow is struck, Evehime forces herself to back down, mastering the reflexive urge to seize the opportunity, close the distance, and try and finish the job in an instant, with the clearly evident joy she is deriving from this battle. Even stanced up as she is, she manages to evince an aura of surpassing, even divine calm around her; though her style is in no way 'soft', it feels now untethered to the notions of weight and force, strength and resistance, that went with it before. She is also not a mind reader (that is still Persephone), and gets as far as the word "Well--" before Miyomomo both suddenly regains consciousness on the spot, and changes her entire attitude around into something like rage. That, much more than any ferocity of blow, gives her pause. "I don't understand. This isn't--" she begins, eye narrowing, cheek twitching, the corner of her lips turning down. Miyomomo blurs right at her. Irrepressible combat instinct causes Evehime to switch feet and step back with perfect synchronicity, and the space between them extends just enough that the fist stops short after almost entirely passing through the Halo. The flying strike to the sternum is something Evehime catches with a thunderclap birthed between her hands, the chop halted with even fewer incremental degrees between it and her throat, as Miyomomo's focused fury causes her fighting spirit to boil up and pierce through the natural armour of disdain, each move getting her closer and closer to her mark. For a split second, something like rage of her own flashes across the Gevurah's face, bright eyes and dark shadows like a crackling thundercloud. Then she bellows "ENOUGH!", and it is the exclamation tiself, rather than a physical throw, that separates the two at such speed to scorch the earth. The paused droplets lose their rainbow lustre and fall from the air. The silver and gold and violet flakes away from Evehime as lavender smoke, leaving behind her previous black attire. The aura of tranquil divinity disappears with it, leaving behind only a sense of strangely wounded(?) bitterness. "Do not mistake me, Master of the Nameless Style. This isn't a matter of whether you are a serious martial artist in my eyes. It isn't a matter of pride, either. Vaironanta and the Path of Infinite Steps style are one and the same, and together, one of five. While it is true I would never show them before one of lesser ability, what you're speaking of is not so simple as a mere escalation of power." It feels strange, to see the Gevurah like this, fists clenched, chewing her lip in frustration, discarding a hundred spiteful words and thoughts before speaking. "They are precious memories to me. And I would never do anything that would associate them with something displeasing. I could not bring myself to share them like this with one I cannot know the measure of. I do not take you lightly. Your technique, even what little you've shown me, is clearly beyond the realm of ordinary masters. Yours would be the mountain and mine the climb, were the other differences between us not so pronounced. Understand that this is not pride. It is-- was, to share something special. I will regret only that I grew so carried away as to indulge in them, with someone who had 'rekindled cold embers'." Even admitting something so strangely private, she won't flinch from saying so.
Evehime Gevurah	One foot sharply stomps the ground. The earth obeys, and a short, geometric pillar of dry granite shoots up from the silt for her to sit on, resting one ankle on one knee, arms folded. "So that is enough for now. You've seen what you wanted, didn't you? You've tried one set of techniques, and now you will devise another. I believe that this place was meant to be close to 'adequate entertainment'. You've given this your due thought, yes?"
Miyamomo	The force of Evehime's rage pushes Miyamomo back, but her toes curl into the glassed earth, ready to leap back in. But as her opponent explains, genuine frustration boiling up, the kitsune's own anger cools rapidly. This is more than her 'true style.' A memento from days long gone. "That's not fair," she says, exhaling a long sigh and dropping her stance. "How can I be mad at that? If it is something so precious, you should not whip it out on our introductory bout. Are you truly that lonely? That desperate to forge something intimate with others?" Mopping some blood from her eye, she walks over and puts her arm around Evehime as best she can. "If so, then this town is truly the perfect spot. The drinks aren't very good, but there's plenty of them, and only for a few of those metal discs humans are so fond of. Many chances to create those awkward moments of sentiment they love so much. Come along."
Persephone Kore	Persephone's open-mouthed amazement shifts to a light grimace as she dismounts from the single standing tree. Look at them: Miyamomo angry because she thought Evehime was holding something back, Evehime angry that Miyamomo could think she wouldn't give her everything. Ahaha, they really do like each other. Phony rarely hurries, but her steps sound a little more brisk as she makes her way to the edge of the black-glass crater. Rather than risk descending a slippery incline in heels, she walks partway down its sloping interior sideas if descending an invisible staircase. A small, relieved sigh escapes her as she sees (and sees) Miyamomo's anger evaporate, and a little smile spreads across her face once more. Then I pause. It feels like I might be intruding on something, doesn't it? Right now, they share a bond that I don't have. Shouldn't I respect that? Instead Phony sits down, legs crossed, and rests her chin in her hand to smile down at the pair from a modest distance. "You really are going to make me jealous," she says lightheartedly, though it isn't clear to whom. "But I'll let you go. Thank you for letting me watch! I don't think I learned much about fighting, but I think I learned lots about other things." To Evehime directly, suddenly dead serious: "But first, you do have to let me touch your arm. Then I'll let you leave!"