Bloody Knuckles [open]
Feb 8, 2012 1:58:48 GMT -5
Post by Kheft on Feb 8, 2012 1:58:48 GMT -5
~Gotta fight gotta strike
'cause there's no turning away
From what you don't want to know~
'cause there's no turning away
From what you don't want to know~
As soon as the sun had breached the horizon enough to send out streaks of lemon-hued light to peak into the window of her bedroom, Nyx was awake. The covers hit the floor on one side of the bed, and her feet thumped the wood on the opposite.
"Fucking SHIT that's cold!"
So Nyx had never been great at censoring her language…so sue her. She hop skipped over to where an area rug provided brief relief from the icy floor boards, and a tumbled pile of clothing from yesterday. A thin cotton shirt made the descent over her head and loose trousers with a belted waist and drawstring cuffs slid up over her hips - training clothes. They bore telltale brown smears from old blood that refused to come out in the wash, and the occasional worn spot that would soon turn threadbare. She could afford more, but these were proven favorites, and they always seemed to be lucky.
~Gotta see gotta be
If they're all going astray
Don't let them take you in tow~
Her bare feet pounded the stairs…yeah, she wasn't great at being quiet either. The kitchen door swung open just as she rounded the corner and clocked her squarely in the forehead.
"Bloody hell!" The words spilled out before Nyx even registered that it was her step-mom, Anisse, emerging. The reproving look her face adopted had Nyx backpedalling hastily.
"I-I mean…bloody…umm…oh dammit. I didn't see you and I'm late." Again, she hadn't precisely meant to curse, it just slipped out. There was some sort of disease that caused that, right? Diseased sounded like a good excuse. Not for Anisse apparently, as her face went from disapproving to downright stormy.
"Onyx…"
shit
That tone boded nothing but rapidly impending doom. Instead of sticking around for yet another blow up between the two, Nyx liberated a muffin from the tray in her step-mom's hands and turned on her heel, stomping out the front door. She let it snap shut behind her with perhaps more force than necessary. So cry about it.
~you're gonna make your mark this time
you're gonna set your hope on fire~
you're gonna set your hope on fire~
The elegant home was mere minutes from the training center that her father had helped to design. When she blew through the doors and a wave of scents slapped her in the face…warm sand, coppery blood, sweat, leather, the bitter oil that was used on the metal weapons, it was all a panacea that her nostrils drank in. The familiarity of it helped her tense muscles to relax, just in time for them to hitch up again.
The central ring was in use by a new recruit. He was big, rawboned, long-limbed, but with a straight nose that just begged Nyx to bust it. She didn't like people much, but it wasn't often that she took such an instant offense to a complete stranger. There was a reason. That reason presented itself in the shape of her dad leaning against the ropes and admiring this boy as he warmed up. Her dad, who never looked at her with that open approval in his face.
Who the hell does he think he is? Trying to take my spot away?
~Gotta leave gotta bleed
You've gotta stop lying still
'cause this is no kind of life~
You've gotta stop lying still
'cause this is no kind of life~
Before the thought had even fully registered, Nyx found her feet taking her down the steps ringside. She glowered upwards at the spectacle, but smoothly wiped the anger away and bottled it up when her dad glanced across. She lounged insolently against the ropes and watched the boy with assumed boredom.
"Not bad, he's a brute, but we should see what he can do against a real opponent."
"Onyx, don't be a child. He's twice your weight, Crystee is warming up in pit five. I'd rather you go find her." Certainly he meant well, but the remark only inflamed Nyx further. Did her father really think she was that incapable of handling herself in the ring? Without pausing for a second thought, she slid between the ropes and squared off with the new kid.
"Nice reach, how about a match?" The kid looked down at her like she might be crazy - this petite little girl addressing him with a brazen attitude - but it was no skin off his nose, so he nodded willingly.
So the dance began with the chime of a bell. The boy lunged, but Nyx was already gone, skipping back a step and ducking the out-flung fist with a nimble dexterity. This was what she lived and breathed, this game of pain and purpose, and every fiber of her being was singing with relief. It was a good thing too that she was quick, because those blows he aimed held the force of a small elephant behind them. One whistled by her cheek.
fuck...
~You don't need guarantees
You just want something to build
Before you turn to the knife~
She snatched up a quaterstaff from its bracket and swung blindly, working to put some distance between them. The staff connected, glancing off his ribs and drawing a satisfying wince from her opponent. But he wasn't to be put off so easily, and kept coming. Around the ring they whirled, staff, sparring sword, fists, nets. Anything in reach became a tool employed. Nyx was tiring, she could feel a burning pain cramping up her side and it was just enough distraction. One of the boy's disastrous punches broadsided her. The impact sent her reeling back against the ropes, clinging desperately to avoid flying straight out of the ring. For long seconds she couldn't see anything, her head pounded deafeningly and spots darkened her vision. It was a fight to stay conscious, fortunate that Onyx Andromeda was a fighter.
And that's about the time that all hell broke loose inside.
~When the streets are aflood like a fever
It's a holiday of the new
We're coming closer now to the truth~
It's a holiday of the new
We're coming closer now to the truth~
It had happened to Nyx only once before, that sudden tide of scorching emotion bottled up over months just ripping free. It was ugly and ferocious, and beyond thought or remorse or pity. Her fists gripped the ropes and just as the boy lumbered forward to end the match with a knockout punch, she snapped her legs upward. Both feet slammed into his jaw, just beneath the chin, and the gruesome crunch of bone sounded loudly in the sudden stillness.
Other careers had clustered like carrion around the perimeter of the ring, observing the fight, but Nyx was beyond noticing or caring as she fairly launched off the ropes and bulldozed the offbalance fighter, her solid frame hit him in the solar plexus and he toppled to the sand in an earthquake of limbs. Even this victory didn't register with the near-psychotic Nyx. She landed on his chest, fists whipping in the air and pummeling his face bloody. The sanguine drops sprayed the trampled earth and the pair alike.
~Gotta move gotta choose
You've got a difference to make
Don't watch it happen again~
You've got a difference to make
Don't watch it happen again~
By the time several bystanders had managed to drag her off him - screaming like a banshee and nearly breaking several noses in the process - the boy was unconscious, his jaw broken and face beaten to a pulp.
Once she stopped fighting them, Nyx found herself deposited on a bench outside. The careers who had restrained her hastily retreated, possibly afraid she might rip into them next. An abandoned towel lay wadded up on the floor, and she retrieved it, futilely wiping at the now dried blood that coated her clothing and skin. A flicker of movement in her peripheral warned of someone else's presence, moments before a voice broke the stillness.
"Brutal fight."
~Gotta change rearrange
Something's bending to break
It's just a matter of when~
(OOC: Sorry for the massive post, I hope it doesn't scare everyone off!)