Look Before You

[Zowan Fireside]

The boy who entered the duelling hall would not have been recognized by many of his old friends.

Zowan Fireside stood at a height of 6'2". He had glittering hazel eyes. And he had a head of messy, short-cropped black hair.

The boy placed a case on the floor and unsnapped it, flipping it open to reveal a glimmering silver sword amid a mass of crimson velvet. The sword had his name engraved on it -

Zowan

- and as he lifted the sword lovingly out of its case, the sunlight that spilled through the tall windows caught it and brightened it so that it shone in its full glory.

Zowan looked at it, and he smiled. Then he stood and held it out in front of him.

"So it's you again," he said to an invisible adversery, "Come and fight me, if you're really a man." And he lunged forward, stabbing the air and seeing the little old man from the forest on the end of his blade. Zowan handled the sword deftly, with ease, as though he had practiced with it for many years.

It was one of the very few things he had been naturally good at.

And as he leapt and ducked and thrust, as he sweated out his anger and slew enemy after enemy, as he shouted and fought, louder and harder and with more and more intensity, there was only one thing on his mind. It was the face of a boy he had met only once, a face streaked with the trails of a few hard-wrought tears, a face full of an all too familiar mixture of pride and pain.

And as Zowan looked up, and he imagined his next invisible enemy, it took the shape of himself. Zowan Fireside. And with a battle cry, he proceeded forward to kill the air in which that shadow stood.

[Vivian Pryce]

The Dueling Hall was a great place to see how normal people functioned and behaved. Within these walls echoed cries of sorrow and pain, as well as those of triumph and well-earned victory. Dueling was one of the many areas where Vivian lacked, and it was probably questionable for her even to come here, just to watch human emotions at work, as well as observe the skill that had been worked into the minds and bodies of all those present, through a process called practice.

This boy, who she'd never seen before in her life, was definitely a representation of all she was here to watch. Although he fought no visible foe, he put his strength behind his blows against the air, as if he were fighting some invisible demon or monster that no one but him could see. Part of her felt like that could be entirely true.

Vivian was easy to miss, even with her reddish hair and almost neon blue eyes, staring out from the sidelines with keen interest, not blinking once in the span of several minutes. People were fascinating, but truly impossibly for her to understand. Such strong emotions, such courage, representing everything she was not. Why was it that Vivian had become such an exception? Her isolation had become self-inflicted over time, as she began to avoid people more and more.

The sight of the tall boy battling the air could have been comical to some, but for Vivian, it was utterly enthralling as opposed to amusing. She doubted he would even notice that she was there as he poured his blood and sweat into vanquishing the foes that only he could see. Vivian wished she could do away with her problems so simply, just make them go away, but of course, that would only leave more problems in her wake. Right now, the shy girl felt exceedingly weak and powerless, in the presence of someone who probably had plenty more reasons to feel so frustrated than she did, and also had a better method of releasing his emotions.

Vivian just bottled them up inside until they boiled over, made her go off into uncontrolled states, where she could do anything from go beserk to stop breathing. This boy with the short cropped black hair would sleep well tonight, she bet. While Vivian would just lay awake, wondering why slumber was evading her so, staring up into the stars that never seemed to shine for her. Being forgotten was heaven and hell for her, reinforcing her fear and protecting her from it at the same time.

Right now it left her, staring in silent awe, too afraid to comment on his skill with the sword lest he realize her fear and use it as a means to control her, just like everyone else did.

[Troy]

The unmistakable sound of blade on blade reverberated throughout the hall as a gleaming saber blocked Zowan's sword.

The owner of the blade was dressed in white fencing gear that covered his entire body and culminated in the traditional mask that effectively hid his identity. He - assuming it was male - was about six foot tall, with broad shoulders. He stood slightly off to the side, one hand firmly around the hilt of his blade and the other held back in traditional fencing style.

He masked man slid his blade along the length of Zowan's and retreated a few paces, taking up a defensive position and beckoning with the tip of the saber.

Come and get me.

[Zowan Fireside]

Zowan had entered a state of intense concentration that was not unlike meditation, and he was acutely aware of footsteps, soft footsteps entering the dueling hall, but he was afraid to turn around, afraid to face who it probably was standing and watching him - Brae or Branden, or Adhara or Darren ... all wanting to ask questions and get answers from him, suitable answers, pleasing answers, when he didn't even know the real answers to begin with.

Zowan continued fighting the air, but after a few minutes he found the presence of the other too much to ignore. He stopped, brought his sword down to his side, and turned slowly to greet whoever it was.

Surprisingly, it was no one he knew, and for a moment Zowan couldn't think of anything to say. Then he realized that he had stripped to his undershirt and that it was so drenched with sweat that the girl was certainly able to see every one of his scars. That realization increased his embarassment, and he quickly reached for the blue polo shirt he had dropped on the floor.

"Erm ... hi," Zowan said as he placed his sword gently in its case and pulled the shirt over his head. "Sorry about the, uh ... the indecency of the ... uh ... clothing. I didn't realize there was a lady in the room."

Then he reached down, picked up his sword again, and turned ... only to have his sword meet the sword of another, an opponent who seemed to have materialized behind him, an opponent who was obviously serious and wanted to fight.

Zowan stared, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then shut his gaping mouth. He considered telling the other the truth, that he had never fought a duel with swords, but then he realized that his getting his butt kicked would put things right in his world. Yes, this mysterious fencing-outfit man was Branden's avenger ...

With that cheering thought, Zowan lifted his sword.

Put me in my place.

[Troy]

When the boy looked up and met his eyes, Troy nodded once and took up the ready position.

He'd told himself that he'd come here to train, but he wasn't fooling anyone. He came here for the same reason he always fenced. He was lucky, really. He had two skills, two ways he could work out his emotions. Often, the music did the job. That was for emotional extremes - anger, happiness, peace. But fencing? That was for chaos. Confusion. A way to try and understand, to fight himself until he understood. And having an opponent made it that much more of a challenge.

Right now, what he was confused about was himself. He barely knew her, and already he was... what? Making advances? Yes, that much was obvious. But... it didn't feel like that. It felt...

Right.

But he still didn't understand.

Without further warning Troy lunged, aiming his saber right at the boy's chest. Not at his heart - that was far too dangerous if something went wrong. No, he aimed at about the same level on the right side of the boy's chest.

Defend yourself.

[vixen]

Vixen had come in from the lake, Jo, Orca, and Ryu, a little tired. She noticed the two tall boys, no nearly men, fighting, and the girl with the bright red hair, watching silently.

Vixen made her way over.

"Isn't it facinating? The way humans get over their troubles and frustrations?" She said, knowing from the feelings she got, that this girl would avoid answering if she could help it.

"I've never really understood people, but I'm learning. The male variation seems particularly facinating, and their secrets seem to be forever elusive to me, but I suppose that's because I'm female."

Vixen caught herself sounding like a professor of something.

"Sorry, I don't mean to act detached, just get that way sometimes. My name's Vixen Kay, pleased to meet you." Vixen didn't know why she was talking to a complete stranger, maybe because she had been doing so all night, and really was getting used to meeting new people, maybe she was still calm and comfortable from being with Jo for so long.

[Zowan Fireside]

Zowan was surprised by the point coming so quickly towards his chest, and he acted instinctually, taking a small step backwards and to the left as he lifted his blade in an arcing motion and used it to force the other boy's blade away from his body. Then Zowan withdrew his sword and held it in front of him again, his feet shuffling slightly, ready for motion.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard a voice, and saw that another girl had entered the duelling hall. He shook his head, wondering what people found so fascinating, and turned back to his opponent, suddenly wishing that he owned some sort of armor.

Then a terrible notion hit him. What if everybody knew about what had happened? What if they were coming to gawk at him, the boy who had been possessed by the demon? He glanced over his shoulder again. They didn't look like they were gawking, per se ...

He looked back. It was too dangerous to keep checking over his shoulder. He lifted his sword and moved it in a graceful arc toward the boy's side. Maybe if the other blocked the hit, as he was sure to do, Zowan could pull quickly back and get in a sneaky poke at his side.

[Vivian Pryce]

Her hands were wringing by the time the dark haired male approached her, and his speech was only somewhat comprehendable in her shocked state. Vivian really hadn't expected him to even notice her, and if he did, to even really care that she was there. She opened her mouth to speak a reply, but no sound came out. That quickly became entirely unimportant, as the other sword bearing boy approached, offering her the perfect excuse to say nothing in response, as the first boy would undoubtedly be too preoccupied to carry on a conversation.

She assumed that they were male from their stature and build, but with the face concealed behind the mask, they could really be anyone. Seeing all these people, none of which she knew, only reinforced the fact of how small a part of the world she knew, and how vast it was, spinning and moving on, leaving her behind. She could try to understand other people, and try to see how and why everything happened and worked the way it did, but she never fully would.

Vivian was just another face in the crowd, dressed in grandmother worthy clothing that carefully concealed the fact that although she couldn't function like a normal person, she could easily look like one. It seemed now her only goal was to completely alienate herself from the rest of society. Some people in this world she did not want her name associated with, even in the most minute sense. Humans were cruel, ruthless creatures, willing to go to any means to get what they wanted. And yet, they didn't even really know what they wanted. They only had the slighest of clues, and they spent their entire lives hoping they'd stumble on it and realize it was what they needed.

The battle before her was far to enthralling for her to even notice the other girl walk up, and then begin to talk like she was reciting something from a textbook. Her blue eyed gaze shifted from the scene for a moment, noting fully the girl's presense. The sound of metal upon metal was soothing and kept her from getting too nervous, as she always had the excuse of watching the two to stop speaking to this other girl. She nodded subconsciously, agreeing with whatever the girl was saying whether or not she really did or not. Sonehow Vivian managed to catch the introduction and note the name, just in time to turn her head just slightly so that her blue eyes could match name to face if it were ever necessary.

"V-V-Vivian Pryce. N-n-nice to mmmeet you as w-well..." Taking her customary shaky breath after she finished speaking, she fell into uneasy silence, letting her attention drift back to the sword fight, resting one hand instictively on the wand in her pocket.

[vixen]

Vixen nodded, not looking back at this appaently shy girl, but only watching in a facinated way the fight going on before them.

Vixen reached out with feeling, trying to understand this duel, or at least the essence of why each opponent was fighting.

~Shame.~

That was the first emotion that hit her, coming from the darker, taller boy, no, man. He was a man, who still struggled with containing the emotions of puberty.

~Chaos~

It wasn't an emotion, but it was the closest that Vixen could come to describing the other's feelings.

Vixen understood that each of these boys, yes, they were boys, but trapped in the appearence of men, so it was thought that they should know better, each of them used fighting with the sword, or saber, as a form of meditation.

Vixen dragged her attention away from the facinating fight long enough to look to the girl beside her.

~!~

Vixen looked away, shocked almost to the extreme that one person could feel so much at once. Though she had felt many of the same things herself. Vixen was fortunate to have Jo, flying always helped her over her troubles, and Jo would listen to her anytime.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Vivian." Vixen said apologetically. "Isn't it facinating?" She said, turning back to the fight.

[Troy]

The masked boy smoothly blocked Zowan's somewhat clumsy attack and took three arcing steps as he did so, sliding his blade along the length of Zowan's to come up behind the boy, blade raised.

Instead of attacking, he backed off a few steps, returning to a defensive position. This was fencing. You never attacked your opponent's back. He was sweating, even with the minor workout. Troy reached up and ripped off his mask with one hand, tossing it aside. His skin was covered in droplets of perspiration, and his dark hair was damp and messy but those green eyes were just as piercing, focussed entirely on the armed boy before him.

You can do better than that...

[Vivian Pryce]

Again, blue eyes unblinking, her complete attention was fixed on the fight taking place in front of her, based on no grudge or relationship, but merely on their mutual need to vent their emotions and frustrations, in the form of a sword fight. She'd never been the hugest fan of violence in it's raw, uncontrolled form, but when it was combined with practice and skill, as well as common human courtesies, it could be entirely fascinating and wonderful. Who in the wizarding world did not like a good name of quidditch, a sport with very violent positions such as the beaters, whose purpose was, among other things, to club flying objects at members of the opposing team in an attempt to harm and maim. Vivian hated and loved it at the same time. She hated watching people in pain, but at least they were feeling something.

Vixen's voice fell on almost entirely deaf ears, and she dismissed the apology with an impatient wave of her hand, still not taking her attention from the pair. In a split second something could go direly wrong. Part of her wanted to be there to help the moment it happened, and part of her just wanted to see it happen.

When the boy ripped off his mask, Vivian couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen him before, even though she knew that she couldn't have possibly seen those eyes before and not remember it specifically. He had a distinct appearance, something that was easy to describe...

It hit her just like that, and narrowing her gaze, she realized who he absolutely had to be. Elizabetta's description fit him exactly, down to the littlest details. She could definitely understand what she saw in the boy, now that she looked, more analyzing than anything. Viv felt a sense of duty to look out for Betta, as she was younger than her, but she didn't doubt that girl was much more mature in any ways. In any case, she didn't want anything happening to her friend, and she definitely did not want to see her hurt either.

She bit into her bottom lip, peeling back a bit of the top layer of skin, watching him now more than the first boy that had been there. Vivian didn't have to fight to keep herself from saying something, however, as the idea of asking him whether he knew so-and-so based of a quick description was just a little crazy.

[vixen]

From the way Vivian only waved her hand, dismissing her apology, Vixen knew the other girl wasn't listening. Instead of wasting time and effort talking, she drew up a chair instead. Good manners dictated that she draw up one for the other girl as well, so she did.

"Are you going to sit?" Vixen asked, quietly, there was no point in screaming after all. "I'm sure you'd find it much more comfortable."

Vixen lowered her long body into her chair, and stretched her legs out in front of her, careful not to put them in the way of those duelling; she didn't want anyone hurt because of her.

Especially not a couple of handsome guys who knew what to do with a sword.

[Kage]

Kage strolled calmly into the room. He was dressed for a workout in black shoes, black cotton pants, a sleeveless black shirt, and fingerless black leather gloves. In his either hand he carried a sheathed katana, tapping them every so often against his legs. As he entered the room, he noticed two boys dueling, one in traditional fencing gear, one in normal clothes. Also, he noticed two girls watching the duel. He vaguely recognized one of the girls. He had seen her milling about in the Entrance Hall, Great Hall, and the one time he saw her escorting a boy from the Hospital Wing. He nodded to her as he stepped up behind and between the two chairs.

Kage rested the tips of his sheathed katanas on the ground, leaning on them lightly as he waited and watched. "I call winner." He said calmly.

[Zowan Fireside]

No, not really ...

The other boy blocked Zowan's attempt deftly, and Zowan emitted a low whistle as he turned to face the other again. This one certainly knew what he was doing. Zowan shot a cocky grin at Troy, as though the thought that he was going to get his butt kicked made him happy. And in a way, it did.

The thought even crossed his mind that he should ask this boy to train him.

Zowan cocked an eyebrow when he caught sight of a third spectator entering the hall. What had started as a very personal thing had become a challenge, a challenge that was being watched by fellow students. Zowan didn't understand how it had escalated so quickly, but he was enjoying it the slightest bit, was enjoying being shown up by the masked ...

Oh, no. He wasn't masked any longer. Zowan smiled slightly, and bowed even more slightly out of respect. He had no grudge against this boy.

But he was going to try to win, that was for sure.

This time he moved the sword more quickly, cutting through the air, forward, towards the boy's left shoulder. Zowan felt confident that his opponent would block this attack, but it was the only thing he could think of.

[Pilantheion]

As Pilantheion walked into the dueling hall he saw a gathering of people. The spectators were two girls who were obviously no more than watching and one young man, whom he recognized from his first day coming to MH, Kage. One of the participants in the coversatiobn he had *ahem* watched. Really he had eavsdropped, cloaked by his shadow meld.

The two around which the fight centered were what drew Pilantheion's attention.

'A fencer?.....curious' he thought, and the other reminded him of someone, not with looks or anything, but with stance.

'Of course,' he mused, giving a rare half-smile, 'he has the stance of a swordmaster who I've killed, though slightly less polished.' Pilantheion was trying to defend someone he cared about but the guard wouldn't have it, the swordmaser cut down Pilantheion's mentor with one smooth move, severing his head completely. The rest...... no, different time different place.... back to the fight in front of him.

Enthralled by the fluid motions between the two, Pilantheion watched with eager eyes. He had dabbled in swordplay, but had risen above what he believed to be such a childish thing when he unlocked his many other talents. Talents that led him to believe he was elven and something else, something darker. He hated himself, but everyone had to deal, those who couldn't were taken apart piece by piece, until nothing was left but a husk, if you were that lucky, he had seen it happen.

Dressed in his black pants tucked into knee high boots, with a silver worked grey shirt tucked in neatly at the waste, Pilantheion crouched. His 6 foot frame, thin but lined with hard muscles, flowed smoothly to the floor. His black, shoulder-length hair was tied back, exposing his pointed ears. He knew he looked odd with just those, but nature did not stop at that. His extremely pale, flawless skin and elegant features surrounded his deep purple eyes, eyes that did not change whether faced with birth or death. His face showed nothing and he appeared outwardly relaxed.

Pilantheion waited for the next move, 'this should be interesting.'