In Your Reflection (Kiyr/Open)

[David B.]

Rain hit the earth hard.

David strode out onto the airfield, run down and rusted planes around them pattering in the storm. Guards stood on top of them, some with bows, others with binoculars, looking around the fences surrounding LAX. Those fences were reinforced with steel and wood, built up into a veritable stronghold of arms and war. One hundred men were stationed here. They trained and moved in and out of LAX on a constant basis. This was their "Helms Deep". This was their impregnable foretress. If ever they had to make a last stand, it would be made here. The walls had metal spikes and razor wire surrounding the tops, so ladders would be difficult. They were sturdy enough that a truck could ram into them at forty miles an hour and not make it through.

Here was a perfect place to mold a persons mind and body. The setting gave the feel of a battleground. And men, in groups of ten, jogged around the inner perimeter. Shirtless, scarred. Battle hardened. Training. David had two people at his back- one was August, his close friend. The other was a member of the Sky Force, and was simply there to observe. The men around ignored them- unless the Elder told them to look, they would keep their eyes to themselves. They were the Core, and they knew their place.

David wore black shorts, and was shirtless. None of his toys. Nothing to boost his natural strength. He had sent a Sky Force member to track the female down, the one who requested this of him. He wondered if she understood what this entailed- David, Mathew, and Leon....what they had to endure to gain their strength. Before candies made all the owies go away. Kiyr would suffer that too, and David would show her no favoritism. He couldn't. Not if he truly wanted to her to grow strong. She had a kind heart, and a kind mind. But she needed the edge with the men. She needed to understand discipline- not as Mathew did, but as it was learned by those around. Her mental fortitude would be sharpened...he would see to that.

David would push her to the point of her bleed-in and past it. He would hurt her. He wouldn't break bone- not with the battles coming up. Perhaps...a fracture or two, if she got sloppy. But this would not be like the other day. No stopping when she wanted. No crying out and hoping for saving. She would suffer defeat after defeat after defeat at his hands. She would probably gain a few new scars...but that was the price. That was what she asked him for.

He looked around at his castle. This...dominating force of strength he led in California. She wanted a part of it.

He waited.

[Kyrie Blaze]

Though the blonde was not out in the pouring rain, she was far from not working. She was sitting, patiently, listening for the most part to the meeting going on around her. Absorbing. Getting a feel for the dynamics of those present. It wasn't a particularly important meeting, and any points she could have had concerns for were already covered, whether by herself or others at the meeting. It was adjourned and she stood, lifting and setting her chair back before stepping out and returning it to its resting place.

She hadn't brought any papers. What she had was left at her home and she could jot notes down if she so wished, later.

The rain pattering on the roof lent a calming white noise to the meeting, and now that it was over, she listened as she moved for the door. The door that swung open to reveal a member of the Sky Force.

Not long after that saw Kyrie keeping step with her messenger on the tarmac. Though she could see David, she did not bother to hurry her steps. There was no reason to rush and no need to dawdle. She was soaked, they all were, and there was no need or want to complain.

Besides, she enjoyed the rain too much.

Her own items were stowed - and she was never really defenceless anyway - and tucked away back at her home. She knew her purpose here already. The duo stopped, raised their fists to their hearts and snapped a quick bow. Already she could feel the anticipation and even excitement - however naive it was, she looked forward to this training though her body, she figured, would violently protest any and all movement in the morning - building and bubbling.

But for now, she waited.

[David B.]

David turned, the others backing away as Kiyr approached. As she and the other man bowed, he would flick his hand to indicate her accomplice could leave. He would stare at her for several seconds. He assumed she would be wearing clothes required to work out in- like a sports bra.

"Take off your shirt."

If not...then too bad. She was gonna have to fight in her bra. Either way, he wasn't there as her lover, as her man, as a friend or a sexual partner. He was there to whip her ass. Show her weaknesses and strengthen them. He was there to make a warrior that men would fear. He didn't tell any of the others to turn around- this was Field Marshal Barrial. She was strength and order. She would need to show the men she didn't give a damn, and that was her prerogative. Once done, he would roll his shoulders.

"First, I'll teach you about pain. You have been hurt, or been burned or beaten. But you have never been damaged so pointedly, purposely, that the intent and cause of pain was blinding.. You may think you have...but that is what I'm here to teach you. There will be no pause, no break, no crying uncle. No Qi and no weapons. You want a name. You want power, and you want to deserve it. You want the Emotional, physical and mental fortitude to take it. I'll mold your body to make one of those a reality. The others...will be up to you."

He would not wait- He launched himself forward, aiming a stiff left front-kick for her abdomen, intent to knock the wind from her. He fully intended her to fight back- again, not for humiliation, but for knowledge and understanding. To truly grasp his strength, yes, but more than that. To come into her own and realize her potential without needing someone else to say "You are ready". She would have to do that, someday. Until then, he could only make her stronger.

If his kick landed, he would plant it and spin on it clockwise, whipping his right leg up to try and hit her in cheek with his heel. It would become apparent to Kiyr that this would not be a fluff fest. He held nothing back. He maneuvered so he wouldn't break bone or knock out teeth- but otherwise, for her entire training in this...she would have him at his full.

She asked for nothing less, and deserved the same.

OOC: All stats 80.

[Kyrie Blaze]

As it so happened, the blonde was prepared for this. The only part of her disdain for having to shed her shirt was given in a soft sigh--one of those '...is this really necessary..?' brief exhales that likely only David would catch before the shirt was shed. It wasn't like she would be fighting nude, and it certainly wasn't like she hadn't fought in shorts and training bra before. The shirt was lifted over her head and lobbed to the side. It was already soaked so landing on the wet ground really didn't matter.

The only thing she really had to concern herself with was David. Even his words made her adrenaline kick up. She could feel the immediate change that came with those base fight or flight instincts, and the way the adrenaline changed her responses and surged through her body.

But at this distance, at half his speed, there was no real room or way for her to dodge--even her thought of 'Merde.' wasn't even really thought so much as felt as there was no time to even process it. The wind was driven from her lungs and her stomach heaved in pain. Not even forcibly exhaling truly helped, but the next thing she knew the pressure was relieved.

And all alarms went off.

Kyrie's eyes snapped open and she drove herself forwards even as she ducked, coughing, trying to regain the breath she lost and move under his leg. Closer to the center of his body, using the extra time she gained as she didn't want to be driven out. The small blonde would drive her shoulder into the inside of his planted leg, just above his knee with a hand hooked against his calf, the idea to have him topple to the ground on his face by taking his supporting leg from beneath him.

She would not, however, attempt to wrestle his leg--her hand was just there so she could more easily pull him off his feet with a twist of her form to drive the momentum that way.

[David B.]

David was perfectly balanced in his kick- it whipped over Kiyrs head like a rocket, nearly reaching the ground as she plowed forward. Still, even perfectly balanced, her attack was well timed. Hitting someones leg with the intent of taking them off their feet was all well and good- especially with how he was standing and balanced. It was logical to attack his focal point. Unfortunately, David had been in hundreds of fights against hundreds of opponents, and knew this when he kicked. Though he expected an attack to be centered on his midsection, he wasn't without defense against a take-down.

As she grabbed the leg and pushed, his hands would come down to the back of her head, the pressure applied being for a simple purpose- to drag her down with him. He had a heavy background in Brazilian Jujitsu, and she likely knew it. So he wondered if she had the fortitude to attack him on the ground, or if she would try and slip away. If she pressed forward he would turn with their falling momentum, attempting to land with her on the bottom and him in a mounting position.

From there, it would be a simple matter of throwing down punches, right left right, hoping to make her bleed.

[Kyrie Blaze]

The touch to her head had the blonde reacting immediately - everything instinctively shouting an adamant 'No!' because if she was taken to the ground, it was over far too soon - as the foot opposite to the shoulder against his knee touched down. The petite blonde drove her body's momentum downward--tucking her chin towards her chest with her shoulder against David's leg following suit, her hand against his leg slipping free with ease. She couldn't reverse her momentum, only change its course; and she used David's leg as a sort of pivot point in the hopes that even as she would continue to tuck her shoulder, it would also drive him forward to fall and allow her to roll.

Briefly.

Her feet touched the ground and Kyrie came to a crouch, fingers of one hand splayed lightly against the concrete--for balance only, she was not stopping.

Luck. If she made it out of there, luck had played a huge role. But, she also reacted on sheer instinct through contact to derive intent. Eyes could relay information to the brain so one could react only so quickly, and part of the beauty in her own instincts she had been developing over the past few years was that she trusted herself to react. But from here, she would need to be extremely lucky and quick to be able to continue. There was only so long she would be able to 'keep up', though she would need to sustain many grave injuries to not be able to get up. Because she could see the difference, still, and the tables were about to turn and she would face a very certain - very painful - defeat.

Her blue gaze - crisp and sharp - snapped to David as her feet touched the ground and she would shoot up and forward using the residual momentum from breaking off into a sharp, controlled roll. If David landed, she would leap in a precision jump--feet together, looking to land on his abdomen, chest, or back. The balls of her feet would connect first - a failsafe just in case he were to roll - and only then would her heels drive down with her weight to knock the wind from his lungs.

Or, alternatively, if he was on or getting to his feet, the jump would result in a drop-kick with both feet.

But why jump back in immediately, even though she knew she would lose, either way--and very quickly? Because she had asked for this. And in that, she would commit herself to it and face the pain she knew, without a doubt, she would receive. And all of the losses she would sustain at his hands. The little blonde had her resolve, her commitment, and moved forward fearlessly.

She would see it through--and that meant giving her all, no holding back.

To learn.

To find new strength.

Always, to grow.

[David B.]

David had fought several people recently. Kiyr, Lucien, Mathew, himself....and always he won. Many believed it was due to his overwhelming strength and Qi- and it was partially true. He had defeated many people because he was faster or stronger. Or because his abilities with win manipulation had a drastic strength.

They always said his power was overwhelming. Unfortunately, David knew this too. He often wondered if he had sacrificed his technical skill because of it. But in his last fight, his curiosity there had been satisfied. Now Kiyr wanted to grow- wanted to find the strength he had. She asked him to train her- and one thing he knew: after this trial of pain, he would need her to understand nature and the human body. To recognize that having the strength to hurl a car should never be sought at the sacrifice of your ability to move and adapt in combat.

As she tried to twist and roll forward, he made a note in his head of this- she would be an easy one to teach that to- at least from what he could see.

While he was falling, Kiyr twisted and rolled out of his grasp. Smart- coming to a wrestling match against someone with a mountain of strength and a specialty in ground fighting was unwise. Trying to press for a victory in that area, with that knowledge would be foolish- so Davids left hand, the one that had been behind her head, would snap down and plant flat on the concrete, holding his body up off the ground. He bent his elbow then grunted as he pushed, flinging his body up straight to his feet. Kiyr was already on the offensive, plunging at him with a drop kick. The problem with her move lie in their dynamic- he could easily follow her movements and she was taking to the air, which left her body without a surface to plant against and dodge from- her body would continue its path in the air whether it met his chest or not.

So, he'd step to the side so her feet would fly past. David brought up his right hand and then flung it down, intent to "karate chop" her in the stomach, to send her smashing down into the ground in front of him. If it hit, he'd immediately follow up with a punt-kick to her left side rib cage with his right foot- hoping and committing to breaking bone.

[Kyrie Blaze]

The tiny blonde was highly aware of the disadvantages of aerial attacks, and David was demonstrating why committing herself in such a fashion - despite being able to catch him last time - was a bad idea.

There was no room to dodge or even change her course. She was vulnerable.

Even knowing this, she still did it.

So his attack had free reign and hit: hard. The blonde could only exhale, but not fast enough to save herself from being winded, though it was only partially so. Her form crashed to the concrete below, and despite a palm smacking against the surface to dispel some of the force, it still hurt.

Kyrie had worse things to worry about than the dull pain and jostled bones.

It came as a punted kick, and the effects were immediate. The pain as at least two or three ribs broke caused a rapid and hoarse cry of pain as the force lifted and moved her. She didn't know if her lung had been damaged with that, but soon - rather than later - she would find out. The momentum flipped her, and she used it after tucking her legs in, one arm curled against her ribs. The pain itself was fiery; almost electric, and shocking.

She rolled to her feet, half-crouched and trying to not breathe too quickly...while still trying to regain her breath nevertheless, despite coughing quietly and quickly. It hurt. But she had pushed through this particular pain, before. Her eyes, instead of being closed, were riveted on David, and her hand supporting her ribs dropped; it would do her no good to try and support them while fighting: it left too much of her body open for attack. The blonde wheezed once in pain, and despite being pale and fighting the urge to cough, she was ready to move...able to function and think, for now. There was a knowing that if he didn't follow immediately to catch her when she rolled up...he soon would be, and so she was on the defensive and ready to move.

[David B.]

David did not intend to puncture a lung- he wanted her in pain, not at risk of death. He didnt want to kill her- just familiarize her with pain. As she flipped upward to her feet, in a crouch, she would see David nearly on her, having chased her body. He would run and dip down into a baseball slide, skidding along the ground on his left side and kicking up toward her chin with his right leg.

If the unfamiliar attack succeeded, he'd push off with his left hand from the ground to level himself onto his feet. If it knocked her back, he'd proceed with doing exactly what she had done- take to the air. Only his attack would be a flying roundhouse. If the slide-kick put her on her back, he'd jump and stick out a knee with the intent to crash into her stomach, and hold her there.

[Kyrie Blaze]

The blonde leaped. Not to the side, but straight upwards, legs tucking - painfully - to her chest, arms pulled in at her sides...

...only to realize, too late, she had misread what David's intents were with his sliding attack. By the time she was airborne...his right leg was up. It connected--not to her chin like he'd hoped, but to her shins, leaving them twinging in sharp pain with the dark marks of bruises already apparent. The blonde herself? Knocked back and thrown through the air like a Kiyr!ball.

If the jarring impact didn't hurt enough, as she unfurled her body and twisted mid-air, that caused shocks of pain to flash from her chest, the bright shock of it lancing through her body. Her feet hit the ground and she chose, instead of trying to roll backwards, to lean forward, feet sliding along the concrete. The concrete that, even wet, tore the skin on the pads of her feet. A hand touched down, more for a third point of contact and to regain her balance in those few extra feet she had gained than to actually find purchase on the paving. Wincing despite the gain of...a fair distance between them unless David had dashed in pursuit, the blonde straightened and advanced. Not at a run, but at a measured, steady, walk. It was not meant to allow her time to recuperate or adjust to the pain - there was too much propulsion in each step for that - but she wasn't going to blindly rush in because she was a little frustrated with herself.

'You know better than to take such chances. Next time, evasive roll to the side.'

[David B.]

Seeing her fly so far as he pushed himself up, David didn't pursue. Instead he stood in the rain, hair soaked down over his eyes as he watched her approach. His stance was neutral, and as she drew close he would roll his head back, a grin on his face. He had felt her injuries, her bones crunch under his blows. He knew she was in pain- and he was glad. Not that she was in pain, but that she was powering through it. Still attacking.

Still trying to fight back.

He outclassed her, and she didn't care. She saw only the fight. A true Dragon. He would lift a hand and lazily wave her forward, but when close enough, he would throw a left uppercut rather than the standard hook or jab. He kept his eyes on her figure, knowing that she would probably dodge, or attempt a grip- in which case he would follow through with his next plan of attack.

[Kyrie Blaze]

Oh, but Kyrie did care--but only in that she needed to become stronger. So in that, in pitting herself against the insane strength of people like David, she didn't care. While she may have been anxious about it, there was no fear. And even that anxiety dissipated as she lost herself in the ebb and flow and ever changing motion of combat...because there was only the fight.

Blue eyes flickered to David's lips as he grinned, focusing for a moment before they lost focus on that specific point and went back to encompassing as much as she could within her field of vision.

He motioned her onward, and the small blonde never stopped or faltered.

Movement caught her eye and she immediately shifted her entire body to the right, her right hand quickly moving to connect her palm to the outside of his arm just below his wrist to hopefully keep the uppercut off-course. At the same time, her left hand would close into a fist as it snuck under David's attacking arm, snapping out in a quick, precise punch for his midsection. The petite woman's exhale was partially that, partially a sound of pain as the movement and simple act of breathing caused her broken ribs to shift. She did not remain stationary after the initial movement, but would continue, her forearm - unless he'd done something to block or alter her thus far - would stick to his, and her left would strike again for his side, torquing her body this time to add more force.

[David B.]

Davids arm was forced off course, and the small blondes punch would connect, earning a small grunt of pain from the Elder Dragon. He snapped his left arm out, aiming to snatch the hand that was pressed against his forearm, taking a step back to do so while hoping to keep the tiny woman from rolling away, as she was very apt to do.

If it worked, his right hand would come up and over their arms, balled in a fist, intent to give the hobbits face a stiff punch.

[Kyrie Blaze]

It happened too quickly. By the time her nerves registered the movement--David had her hand. Which meant--bad things. Bad things.

Her eyes shot wide and the blonde stepped towards David's front once again, but not nearly as quickly as she needed to. She applied resistance to her captured hand to keep him holding on as his fist smacked into her turning face. Somewhat disoriented, she exhaled with a pained noise--

And slid against the slick concrete, using David's holding hand as a sort of pivot point to slide between his legs - the gap furthered by his slight step back - as she twisted her body, trying to find a grip on his hand with hers. Hopefully she could make it before he lifted her like a ragdoll, because if she did she would check her shoulder against his hip as she came up and pulled his hand further, hoping to have him crash forwards.

[David B.]

Kiyrs hand, caught in his own, wasn't held palm to palm- so her fingers and joints would more than likely be mashed in his vicelike grip. He felt pleasure with the connection of his fist to her face, but as she slid, he lost the stabilization of his grip, her sudden and unexpected movement under him causing him to simply let go of the hand. Beind now that his left foot was a few inches further back when compared to his right, he would use it as his center of balance.

His right leg would snap up as he spun on it, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her and he attempted to kick her in the head with the heel of his boot and refocus the girl on the damage done to her. If it worked, he'd change things up a bit, ready as he was to further his test of pain.