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Altair Din

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Altair wasn’t surprised by her turning his own words on him. On the contrary he was entertained. He almost expected her to brush off the dance request, but she abruptly grabbed him. He walked behind her, grinning the entire time as his tail eagerly swished from side to side. Altair glanced down at her command, “Don’t gotta tell me twice,” He said as he placed his hands on her slender hips. He wasn’t a complete imbecile when it came to dancing, but this was definitely a style he wasn’t familiar with.

Within seconds, they were off and Altair tried his best to keep up with the sudden spins. He stared in confusion as she started to skip, and he almost tripped them both. Altair caught her in his arms, unable to keep from laughing at the mishap. No one cared. No one looked. Except maybe Millie giving some side eye, but that didn’t matter.

“I really suck at this!” He called out as he almost tripped again as she spun and skipped around effortlessly. He had a smile on his face the entire time, a life in his amethyst eyes that gave them an extra shine. Altair switched from one arm to the other, hooking their elbows as he started skipping around, leaning forward and then back to the rapid rhythm.

Eventually, he began to pick it up, stepping his feet to the rhythm, guiding and spinning her. Everyone around him cheered and clapped to the rhythm in between spins. Altair skipped around with one arm lazily slung around her waist before he jumped and took her other hand to spin her. He still had that brilliant smile, his hair once again slightly disheveled, that black eye still shining and the sporting that swelling from his busted lip. But he was having a blast and that was all that mattered.

After the song came to a close, he was still beaming, “King’s Crown, eh?” He said, “I’ll have to remember that for..” He trailed off. He was definitely going to implement a modified version of this in his kingdom. What a surreal thought.

As Millie passed by with a tray of drinks, Altair nabbed one while giving Millie a wink. He took another for Zelle, handing it to her, “Come on, girl, let’s say fuck you to them bad spirits!” He said as he clinked their glasses and threw the shot back. He slapped down some Crowns on the tray, Millie scowling the entire time.

The next song was slower paced, but it was easier to follow. Altair smiled at Zelle, taking a step back to follow the steps others were doing. He placed his palm against hers before spinning and then touching their palms once more. He reached out and grasped both her arms, lifting one to form a little square window with their arms to gaze through at her before he spun them both around.

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For the first time in recent months, Reyna couldn't contain the smile that spread across her face. The businesslike air with which she had touched him, with which she had placed his hands on her hips as if the gesture was the equivalent of two business associates shaking hands in agreement gradually faded, until they were nothing more and nothing less than a man and a woman dancing together.

"You're not all that bad," she laughed lightly, the sound dulcet and distinct, as if it had been practiced a thousand times over. "Trust me. I would know." The princess had endured her fair share of arrhythmic dance partners over the years. "You haven't stepped on my foot, so you'll hear no complaints from me."

The half-Sephi's eyes were wide and bright. The tavern was warm, warmer still as they danced and held each other, and tresses curled and coiled around her face. Every stride was made with an avidity and energy that hadn't been there until now.—be it the warmth of the fire, the breakneck dance steps, the alcohol in her system, or the way she stared up into the Tiefling's eyes, spellbound. As if by magic. The alcohol at work, no doubt.

"Be gone, bad spirits!" she cried out in agreement, if not in so many words, throwing back the drink Altair offered. That was a very bad idea. Reyna felt like she was vibrating from the inside out, and her skin glowed. She hadn't had this much fun in... well, not since Cassian. She pushed that thought aside.


The music changed, and the dancing slowed. Reyna swayed from side to side, linking her arms around the Tiefling's neck. Her motives were twofold. In the first place, she wanted to. In the second, she needed him to support her. That second drink was kicking in, and she would pay for it in the morning. "Your eyes are striking,." This wasn't the first time he'd heard that she imagined. "I've never met anyone with amethyst eyes before." @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Altair was enjoying this local drink quite a bit. For once it was a drink that could actually make him tipsy quickly and could actually keep him there. Somehow he improved with the dancing the more buzzed he was, swaying and moving around the floor. At one point, he released her while they both spun around. He kept a teasing gaze on hers as patrons danced and twirled between and in front of them. As they passed them, Altair grasped her hands again, tugging her close to continue the dance.

He chuckled when she threw the drink back and gleefully cheered with him. Altair almost tripped over when she flung her arms around his neck. It was only thanks to his tail that he maintained some semblance of balance, the almost trip making him laugh even harder. He caught himself with his arm around her waist. Altair was glancing back at her, about to make fun of her ear twitching when she commented on his eyes. The tiefling had a surprisingly sheepish look on his face in return, his tail waving a bit stronger than he intended. Regardless, he managed a grin as he tilted his head to look at her.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asked flatly, just as she had done to him before. Amethyst. Everyone just called it some plain old variation of purple. Amethyst sounded regal. He liked the sound of that. Altair wrapped both arms around her waist before he looked at her again, “And you got a pretty smile. Somethin’ tells me you don’t do it often,” He flashed her a playful wink.

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"Not often," she acknowledged, her smile only growing in defiance of her innate but undemonstrative temperament. Not recently anyway, and especially not with strangers. Was that what Altair was? A stranger? Could any man that had saved her life and had his arms around her waist be called a stranger? It was the farthest any stranger had gotten this quickly, of that she was certain. "Tell me, Altair. Why do you think that is?" She stared up at him, blinking, awaiting his answer. Curious to hear if the answer he gave was his own name.
Another song began to play, and, if either of them were paying attention, they'd see Millie climb the stage and begin to sing out of the corners of their eyes. Reyna leisurely spun in Altair's arms, and then paused, waiting for him to dip her as the other dancers did. "Why does it do that?" she asked out of nowhere, in an inquisitive mood, peering around his broad frame to stare at the Tiefling's tale. It was waving back and forth. Truth be told, Altair was the first Tiefling the princess had ever danced with. Or interacted with, for that matter. She harbored no prejudices against them, but they, like Devaronians, were often unwelcome in high society. That was a shame, she thought, looking at Altair.

Arms still slung around his neck, she twirled a strand of hair at the nape of his neck around her index finger. It was done absentmindedly, without even thinking about it. When she drew attention to his eyes, he actually looked embarrassed. That she found off, since he didn't strike her as the self-conscious type. Perhaps he was. Or perhaps it was all just part of his charm.

"That depends," she said in a coy tone. This was becoming a game between them, and the half-Sephi wasn't sure yet who she wanted to win, or if it was to be a stalemate. "How old are you?" He was younger than her. The question was—how much younger?
@Sreeya

 
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Altair Din

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Her smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help his own smile that mirrored her own. He tugged her a bit closer. He liked the weight of her arms around his neck, and he liked how lighthearted all this was. There was no obligation, no drama. It was fun and didn’t have years of history behind it. It didn't need to. Altair flashed her a curious look, “Clearly you ain’t got enough reasons to,” He answered as he twirled her around.

Right on cue, he spun her to the song and dipped her when the others did. Altair blinked at her question, but he chuckled to himself, “No different than a Lothcat’s tail. Let’s you know what I’m thinkin’ even if I don’t say it,” He said truthfully. His tail curled around at the same to playfully brush against her leg.

He tugged her back up to continue the dance. Altair smiled at her question. It vaguely reminded him of when Veles’ mother asked him that same question, though he knew Zelle was nowhere near her age.

“Old enough to know better, young enough not to care,” Altair flashed her a wink as he grabbed another drink off a passing tray. He didn’t grab one for her this time, throwing the shot back. He couldn’t help but listen to the lyrics Millie was singing. When it got to the bits about violet eyes, his face scrunched up a bit and he glanced over to see her wistfully staring at him while she sang. Thankfully the song came to a close, and Altair focused his attention back on Zelle. He could tell she was tipsy and he wasn’t doing much better. Unless she had ideas for anything, he would do his usual good boy routine.

“All right girl,” Altair said, his speech slurring just a bit, “Where’s your door at? Lemme drop you off before I crawl back to my hotel,” He chuckled to himself. He glanced up at the rows of doors on the second floor of the tavern. Alcohol didn’t mean he wouldn't still be a gentleman.

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"And are you?" she challenged in a light, non-confrontational voice. "A reason to smile?" Dark eyes stared at the Tiefling's tale as it moved toward her thigh, and when it brushed against the fabric of her pants, her gaze flicked up to meet Altair's. Irises swirled with emotions he wouldn't be able to read as warmth spread throughout her chest. If there was any doubt in Altair's mind regarding the question she put to him, or if he opted not to answer, she would settle the matter herself. "You are tonight."
Old enough to know better, young enough not to care. She hummed, buzzed but with enough wits about her to realize that he had evaded the question. "That's a dangerous age." The matter of his age would be a subject they could revisit later. So long as there was a later, and she hoped there would. She found that she was counting on it, actually.

"My door?" she repeated, staring up at him with a blank expression on her face, entirely devoid of comprehension. The song came to an end, and her arms fell away from his neck. Then she followed his gaze, up to the row of knotty alder wood doors on the second floor. "Ohhhh! My door!" she said again, as if she had a clue. "Of course!" Excellent recovery.

What was she to do? She couldn't allow him to walk her home, to the palace. Not in her condition. Not in his condition. She didn't trust herself not to be caught sneaking back onto palace grounds, and she couldn't expect him not to realize where he was. No, she'd told him she lived here. Not in so many words, but that's the impression he was under. She was trying to think of a diversion, of an excuse for her to sneak away, when Millie pushed her way through the dispersing dancers.

Perfect. Reyna slipped away from Altair, not picking up on the young girl's vehement words directed at the Tiefling as she made her way to the bar. She just hoped he didn't wander off with Millie before she could get back. Sliding all of the credits she had across the wooden bar, she rented a room for the night and rejoined Altair, waving the key in front of his face as if it was some great achievement. "The keys!"


Then she started for the stairwell, lit only by candlelight. "You may have to help me up," she admitted, hesitating on the second step after she'd wobbled, not the least bit embarrassed. She was used to being waited on. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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There was elegance in the way she carried herself even while tipsy. Her mannerisms, the posh accent, all of it suggested that she came from wealth. Why, then, was she holing up in a place like this where he wouldn’t have stayed even as a champion? It wasn’t his business so he wouldn’t ask, but curiosity was certainly bubbling in his mind. When she looked confused as he asked about the door, he quirked a brow. However, she walked over to get her keys, leaving Altair to fend for himself as Millie parted her way through the crowds.

“-I ain’t your boyfriend,” Altair was saying to Millie by the time Zelle returned, “Like you a cute girl, Mils, but I ain’t lookin’ for that right now.”

“Oh, just not with me,” She said with a huff as her gaze flicked over to Zelle. If looks could kill, the Onderon Princess would be a pile of ashes right then. Millie looked at Altair, “You’ll be paying full price from here on out,” She said icily before she stormed off.

Altair stared after her, shrugged, and looked back at Zelle, “Ayyy’ you got your key!” He said cheerfully, as if the tense exchange hadn’t happened at all. In truth, he was so used to dramatic incidents, that they rolled right off his shoulders at this point.

The tiefling laughed as he saw her stumbling a bit getting up the stairs. Altair leaned in so her arm slung around his shoulder, “Come on, I gotcha,” He said as he helped her up the stairs. His tail hovered slightly behind her to catch her if she began to topple backwards. Altair didn’t even bother asking her for the room number, instead peeking at the tag on her key.

They arrived at the door and he gently released her. Altair shifted in place a bit, “We’re here. Now, remember to chug a few glasses of water and get yourself a hearty breakfast tomorrow,” He said before he glanced at her again, “Soooo I’ll see you around I guess,” He said as he ran a hand through his hair, “Could I get your number maybe?” Altair said with a grin, before he cleared his throat, “-Er, to give you those lessons I promised of course,” He added quickly.

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"Lover's quarrel?" she unintentionally interrupted the Tieling as he offered to help her up the stairs. That wasn't like her, to cut someone off mid-sentence. Not unless they were in the middle of a fervent dispute. She wasn't herself tonight. She was happier. Lighter. Her mind was a thick bog that she struggled to wade through, but in spite of that, she could almost believe her life was care free.
Over her shoulder, she stared down at Millie, out of curiosity rather than antagonism. The blonde girl stared back at her, still throwing daggers, and then marched off in a huff, throwing the stained towel she held down on the floor. Stating the obvious, Reyna said, "I don't think she's very happy with you."

Side by side, the pair staggered up the stairwell, every step creaking beneath their combined weight. The princess tripped, lurching forward once or twice, but always recovered herself as best she could, uncharacteristically giggling to herself or glancing over at Altair to see if he found the situation as amusing as she did. Whether he did or not did nothing to dampen her own spirits.

They arrived at her doorway—how she didn't know—and she fumbled with the keys for a moment or two before the latch gave way and the heavy door swung open with a groan. The room was small, with only a wooden four post bed and an old, tattered divan facing the fireplace. In the hearth a fire blazed. On the floor, in front of the bed, was sprawled the hide and head of a cathar. Its intended purpose—ornamentation or practicality—were anyone's guess.

"Of course," Reyna replied almost immediately, hesitating just long enough to process the Tiefling's question, and they exchanged numbers. So long as Reyna saved it properly in her phone. That was also anyone's guess. Then, lingering in the doorway—or to be more accurate, against the doorway for support—she studied the Tiefling. Her ears were still. A part of her didn't want him to go, and she didn't know why. Or maybe she did, and that scared her. Dark eyes settling on his cut lip, she came to a decision and gestured inside with an exaggerated, sweeping hand, adding in a formal voice, "Come in. I will clean your cut." @Sreeya


 

Altair Din

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Altair gazed down at the number for a moment, smiling to himself. He genuinely hadn’t asked a girl for her number in ages. It was such a simple thing, such an ordinary thing, and yet it was something he hadn’t had the luxury of experiencing in some time. Altair watched her fumbling with the keys and he stared at her as she looked at him. For a moment it felt like she was gazing right through him. Was she having a realization? Did she know he was Sith? Did she know he was a King? Or the Demon Prince? No, he was just having a blur of thoughts all at once. His tail betrayed him the way it twitched erratically.

That tail flailed around even more when he realized her gaze lowered to his lips. Altair had dealt with nothing but drama. He vowed to move on from Clove. He was actively avoiding the women he knew. This was fun, this was light and Zelle was gorgeous. Truth was that he wanted to walk inside with her and just keep the night going while he was riding this high. However, when she spoke again, he heard the slight slur in her speech. Altair’s heart was thundering against his chest, but he externally only grinned.

“I’ll come in when you ask me that when you’re sober,” He said with a wink, “Good night, Zelle,” He spun on his heel and walked off, giving her a playful peace sign as he did so.

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Lost Soul street ran the length of the capital's east district. Those buildings that remained—that hadn't been razed by the Sith—had been despoiled by Onderon's own citizens over the last decade. Rectification, her mother's pet project and the crowning jewel of her regency, had become one of the city's most prominent eye sores. The structures she had converted and transformed into runaway shelters for homeless youth, clinics for the poor, and soup kitchens for the hungry all sat abandoned now. Dilapidated and falling apart.

After her passing, it had all fallen apart. Funding ceased. The work came to a screeching halt. Without someone to take that first step, without someone willing to get down in the dirt and get their hands dirty first, no one cared. Cinder blocks lie scattered atop one another. Weeds grew in the cracks of the cobblestone street. Trash littered the sidewalks. The old signs that were once hung with care were illegible, faded and covered with graffiti. Vagrants slept where they could, and the gangs roamed where they pleased.

Reyna stood alone, at the center of an abandoned warehouse. The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the skylights overhead and the mounted industrial fans. This building had once been a community greenhouse. Now it was nothing more than mortar and wood waiting for a strong wind to blow it over. As a young girl, the half-Sephi could remember vividly the first time her mother had brought her here. She could recall how out of place she'd felt working alongside those less fortunate than herself, and, in contrast, how at ease her mother had been. She'd fit right in, smiling and laughing as if she were one of them. That was the moment Reyna had realized how privileged her upbringing had been.

No incident highlighted that contrast more than a week prior, when she had been set on by those drunken devils and rescued by the most unlikely of Tieflings. Now she stood waiting for him, checking the time every few seconds and hoping he didn't stand her up. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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In reality, he had almost forgotten all about his promise of lessons until they began corresponding again. With his new titles, Altair had a lot on his mind at all times, and he had limited time on his hands. He would have to leave Onderon again the next day to pursue some more diplomatic duties. Altair had time to give her a crash course, but little outside of that. However, a part of him also didn’t mind just playing seeing her. It was one of the most fun nights he had in recent memory without any kind of prior history attached to it.

Altair strode into the warehouse wearing a tanktop and athletic pants, revealing the contours of his defined torso. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The tiefling gave Zelle a smile, knowing she was sober now and likely forgot all about the tavern. She had asked him for lessons, and he would focus on that and keep it professional.

“I thought you’d forget about our deal,” Altair said as he took out a rolled up mat and laid it out on the floor. She would likely drop on her ass several times and a mat was better than the hard ground. After a moment, he took his shoes off and urged her to do the same, stepping onto the mat.

“Do you know any kinda combat so far?”

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A lot could change in a week. Reyna didn't know if Altair would show. She didn't know if he even remembered the commitment they'd made, spoken so casually in a corner booth of a run down tavern—combat instruction for a dance. She didn't even know if he was still on the planet. For all she knew, she would get the same brush off that cute blonde girl in the tavern had received. The temperamental one with the dulcet tone and the biting words whose name she couldn't remember. An alcohol induced cloud had settled over her consciousness that night, and all she could really recall was Altair. Not the minor details, such as the name of a girl who would've thrown daggers at her with her eyes.

Then the back door of the warehouse swung open. Sunlight spilled in, and Altair strode inside. Reyna waited until the metal door had slammed shut again before she spoke. "I never forget my promises," came her reply, eyes bright and alert but veiled to any inner meaning. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come." He wasn't that late—just five or so minutes—but she wasn't accustomed to being kept waiting. Ever.

Staring down at the mat he had brought with him, watching him remove his shoes, she blinked a few times. "Do I have to?" she asked in a reluctant voice, looking around at all of the dirt and filth that stained the warehouse floor. These socks were cervelt. Nevertheless, not waiting for an answer, she slipped her boots off, carefully setting them down, and joined him on the mat. There was a lot more at stake today than a pair of expensive socks. The half-Sephi wore high-waisted black pants and had thrown a leather jacket over the tank top she wore to ward off the chill in the air. Her hair hung over her left shoulder in a four strand braid.

"A little," she shrugged nonchalantly, even though it wasn't strictly accurate. She didn't want to look like a complete novice. Even if she was. She'd seen the Tiefling's handiwork first hand, and now, without his baggy hoodie could see his defined muscles. He worked out, clearly, and a lot. She was in good shape, always active, but she didn't know the first thing about throwing a punch. Her experience was limited to late night holofilms and those shady, underground fight clubs that Cassian had been so fond of. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Altair quirked a brow as she complained about taking her shoes off. Oh man, this was going to be just great. His gaze flicked down as he sucked his teeth, “Uh uh,” He shook his head, “Socks off too, missy,” He said with a grin appearing on his face. He almost suggested taking off the jacket as well, but she would realize soon enough how useless it would be for a lesson. Probably when it got an unpleasant tear through the expensive material.

He wasn’t convinced she knew anything about fighting, but he knew better than to say anything aloud. Altair loosened up and bounced a few times on the balls of his feet, “All right, since you prolly don’t want any murder charges on you, your goal would be to knock someone out or give you a shot at runnin’ away,” He couldn’t imagine what other uses she could ever have for fighting. She was some random chick (a wealthy one), the most she’d have to deal with was getting creeped on walking home.

“You can carry a blaster or a knife if those are legal,” He explained, “Your fists will prolly be your last line of defense,” Altair said.

He got into a stance, shifting his right foot back and holding his arms up in defense, “Stand like this. But if you’re left handed, have your left foot back instead. Keep your arms up to guard your face,” If she did that, he would then proceed to show her how to do a basic jab cross, going over the positioning of her feet, arms and torso.

"Now try an' pop me in the face," He said rather cheerfully.

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Uh-oh? That was never the expression a beginner wanted to hear. Had she already made a mistake? The half-Sephi instinctively looked down, following Altair's gaze, but saw nothing amiss. "My socks?" she repeated, picking up on the Tiefling's grin and internally exhaling, relieved that she hadn't exposed herself as a novice three seconds into their lesson. She almost said no—used to having things her own way—but remembered that whenever she was with Altair, she wasn't a princess, and she didn't give orders. Here, she was the teacher, and she the pupil.
Slipping her socks off without another word, she wiggled peach painted toes against the mat, getting a feel for it. They matched her manicured fingernails. Out of curiosity, she asked in an almost playful tone, "What makes you think I wouldn't want to murder someone?" She would probably be amused by his answer, no matter what it was.

Reyna didn't loosen up as Altair did, instead crossing her arms and pressing her lips together in thought. She would've looked totally indifferent and uninterested, except that she leaned forward, rocking back and forth. Inside, she was invigorated. Excited. She felt alive at last, knowing that this was the first step toward a better future. For herself, the legacy of her loved one's, and—if everything went according to plan—for Onderon.

Ears straight up with interest, she watched Altair with rapt attention, not willing to miss a single, solitary detail or movement. This meant more to her than he could've realized or she could ever convey, but she understood just how fortunate she was to have run across the Tiefling. Someone willing to train her. Someone that knew what they were doing.

Once he was in position, she followed his lead, sliding her right foot back to match his own, not hesitating to follow his directions until he told her to "pop" him in the face. She stared at him with a blank expression.

"Pop you? You mean... hit you? Actually hit you?" She hadn't realized that the training would get this intense so quickly. Still staring, she searched his face to make sure he really meant it. Perhaps this was her chance to really impress him, to prove that she had potential. What was that move Cassian had told her about? The carrot chop? She was sure it was something like that. She'd seen it several times in action holofilms, and it always left its opponent out cold. That wasn't her intention with Altair, but she did want to impress him.


Sure that he really meant it, she wound back and threw the basic jab cross he had shown her, following it up with a sloppy chop toward his neck. @Sreeya

 

Altair Din

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Altair snorted when she asked how he knew she wouldn’t kill someone, “Because you got all prissy about removin’ your socks just now. Wouldn’t dream of breakin’ a nail,” He quipped back with a grin. He remained within striking range to see how she would hit, expecting her to demonstrate the usual jab cross. Altair’s goal was to defend against it and show her how to follow up. As she put out her jab and then cross, he brought up his respective arms to defend, “You’ll wanna keep your knees loose so you don’t lock up and you can bob and weave,” He explained, “You keep your arms up at all times to block the jab cross and it frees you up to come in for a torso-”

Altair saw her reel back for a move he hadn’t taught her. Instead of stepping to the side, out of morbid curiosity, he simply stood there to take the strike. The blow landed on his very muscled traps and Altair quirked a brow as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. She was hunched over, off balance and caught in the stupidest pose with her face inches from his. The tiefling stared down at her with his brow raised.

“The hell was that?” He asked before he casually took one step to the side. The abrupt loss of friction from the carrot chop and her dramatic wind up beforehand meant she would topple forward to faceplant on the mat. The tiefling remained standing, his tail swishing back and forth in amusement.

“Never let anyone get you on the ground,” He said, “I’ll show you some ground moves, but your goal is to never end up there in the first place. If you drop, first try kicking out, then plant a hand and hop back up on your feet as soon as possible.”

Altair got into stance again, “Let’s have fun. Show me all the tricks you know,” He said with a smile.

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Prissy? Was that what he thought of her? After they'd danced the night away in a two-bit tavern that reeked of ale and pipe tobacco? Altair's answer did not amuse her after all, and she stared at him with a haughty dignity in her bearing. If she'd been inclined, she would have looked indignant. "You don't think me capable?" That she asked, surprised to discover she even cared.
The impromptu chop had taken him by surprise, but that was all. It landed, all but bouncing off the Tiefling's tight muscles. It was Reyna's features that twisted with pain, not his, as her fingers caved in. She answered, "...the carrot chop?" realizing only as the words left her mouth that that probably wasn't what the move was called.

As soon as Altair stepped aside, she pitched forward and landed on the mat with an uncharacteristically ungraceful thud. The half-Sephi maintained fleeting eye contact as she rolled over onto her back, propping herself on her elbows as the sunlight fell on her chestnut hair. Judging by the way his tail swished back and forth, the Tiefling was enjoying his victory. He stood over her grinning, and she remembered what he'd told her in the tavern a week ago—that his tail was indicative of what he was thinking about.

That hadn't gone how she had envisioned it—how it always did in the holofilms. She must have done something wrong. Perhaps she hadn't thrown enough force into the jab. Or perhaps she'd been standing all wrong. Or perhaps she should've just come right out and admitted that she didn't know anything about combat in all its many forms. From her position on the ground, looking up at Altair, Reyna realized just how out of her element she was. On the dance floor, she had been the virtuoso, but now she was in Altair's playing field.

"All my tricks?" she said, arching an eyebrow. Planting her hands beneath her hips for support, she raised one leg and threw a kick at the Tiefling's stomach. @Sreeya


 

Altair Din

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“Carrot chop?” Altair asked incredulously, tilting his head, “Actually I ain’t surprised…that’s probably how you chop carrots too,” He paused to imagine that and it was too much. He ended up bursting into laughter picturing her with an oversized knife and doing a dramatic chop with a loud, passionate yell and everything. Altair was so focused on laughing that he actually wasn’t looking when she abruptly kicked out from the ground.

Except she couldn’t aim quite as high as she thought.

Altair’s vision exploded and he dropped to the ground right next to her. He was curled up in a fetal position, resisting the urge to vomit. Altair’s hands were clutching desperately at his very poor family jewels. The tiefling rolled around in agony.

“That’s…one way…to bring someone down..” He whimpered with a voice a few octaves too high as he blinked through tears. Altair was sure he wouldn’t be able to have children after that. Mama Din would be so furious.

@llamallove
 

Reyna Vernize

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Altair burst into unrestrained laughter, and if Reyna had been as tipsy as she had been that first night in the tavern, she would have, too. It was an infectious sound, almost enough to make her completely forget why they were here in the first place.

It was short-lived. Laughter gave way to a shark intake of breath and a groan. Reyna realized what she’d done as soon as his eyes widened. For the first time that day, the princess exhibited real, tangible emotion, placing a tentative hand on the Tiefling’s shoulder, not sure if he would want her to touch him or not.

”Altair, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” she spoke quickly, as if the faster she got the words out the faster the situation might rectify itself. She peered over his shoulder, trying to see the expression on his face past all of his horns and his thick hair. ”Is there anything I can do? Anything I can hold?” She fumbled over her own words. Given the nature of the situation, that was a bad idea, and she regretted the suggestion right away. ”Or… or can I get you an ice pack or something?” She had no idea what to do or what would help.

If she weren’t so concerned, she might have have felt proud of herself. That she could take down a full grown Tiefling male with one blow. It was purely luck, she realized, as Altair had been distracted, but it banished any small, lingering doubts she might have held. Doubts that she wasn’t cut out for this.

”I’m so sorry,” she said again, her voice more hushed and gentle than it had been before. Far less urgently, she added, ”I should have just come right out and told you that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never thrown a punch in my life.” @Sreeya


 

Altair Din

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Altair was still whimpering on the ground when he heard her streams of apologies. He could only muster a silent thumbs up to let her know it was okay. It was a lie, he wasn’t okay, but he wasn’t going to be a wimp either. However, when she blurted out asking what she could hold, Altair began to laugh, half coughing from his agony and half finding her panic hysterical. In the end, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“Well you did get me down, so now I owe you somethin’ again,” Altair said with a grin. His gaze lingered on the ceiling for a moment, observing the panels, “This would make a great place to raise plants,” He mused aloud without thinking. His mind wandered back to his farming days and all the crops that could be grown here. The lighting was excellent and the location was prime. Altair stared in silence for a moment. You could take a boy out of a farm, but you could never take the farmer out of him.

Altair curled his knees towards his chest and sprang up on his feet in one fluid motion. He extended a hand to help her off the ground with the smile, “It’s okay, Zelle,” He reassured her, “When it’s a matter of survival, you gotta use every trick in the book. Always do what you need to get someone down, even if it’s a solid kick to the ‘nads,” He gave her a wink.

“Let’s keep practicing the jab cross and defense,” Altair said, “When you got strikes comin’ at your face, bob down and slam them in the ribs. People goin’ for your face will leave their torso wide open.”

He stepped in a few times to correct her as they practiced, gently repositioning her arms to guard her face if they ever started to slip. Altair walked around her, reaching out to grasp her wrist, “If someone grabs you like this and tries to drag you away, loop your other arm around to grab your own hand, rotate your wrist towards my thumb and pull,” If she did it correctly, she’d yank her arm out of his grip easily, “Follow it up with a solid slug to the face and you’ll be out of probably 99% of shady situations.”

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Reyna Vernize

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"To say that I owe you something would be more accurate, don't you think?" she asked, staring down at her feet and focusing on her knees. Exhaling a deep breath, they sat in silence for some time. Altair lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, Reyna sitting beside him, both of them soaking up the sunshine. Dust particles floated in the air, irradiated by the afternoon beams.
Reyna wasn't sure what to say after that. Another apology would be inordinate, she thought, and yet that was all that came to mind. No clever jokes, no amusing conversation pieces she had picked up in her social circle lately. Nothing but the nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had no right to ask him to stay after that. Most men wouldn't, not after they'd been emasculated, even involuntarily. She wouldn't blame him if he walked away and never looked back, but she hoped he wouldn't.

Sitting there, the silence stretched on, until Altair spoke up at last. The half-Sephi's lips lifted into a smile. "Funny you should say that. This used to be a community garden when I was a little girl. I used to come here with my mother." She looked around, replaying the memories. "Back when people still cared about the neighborhood." Charitable projects always took the back burner in the midst of tragedy. The death of Onderon's Queen. The war with the Sith. Times were hard, and many found it difficult to look beyond themselves.


She started to ask what "the nads" were, that an expression she'd never heard before, but she realized what it probably meant before she could embarrass herself further. Some questions were better left unasked.

The Tiefling was an excellent teacher. Patient when she made mistakes and forgiving when she made them again. He guided her every step of the way, never letting her wonder for long what the next step might be, gently correcting her posture and stance whenever needed. She listened to his instruction, pointed ears bending toward him with marked interest.

"I was worried you might change your mind after I... kicked you," she began, not sure how else she might word that. Looping her arm around, she tried to pull her wrist free from his grip. She hadn't had any luck so far and had worked up a sweat, the leather jacket she'd worn tossed aside along with her boots and socks. "I'm glad you didn't." @Sreeya


 
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