Visiting the past

[Salene]

The burial grounds, more than any other place, sparked a deep solemnity in Salene. As she walked between the rows of rotting, decaying, weathering grave markers, her face lacked even a trace of a smile. Only that battle-tested, worn look, and a darkness within her brown eyes that told of the horrors on the battlefield that she'd seen and even committed.

Salene had seen firsthand the loss of war, and certainly wasn't disillusioned to the reality of its terror. Many of the bodies here were of young men and women sent to the grave far too early. One of them had a special signifcance to the blonde woman.

The woman stopped still at a grave marker. In faded lettering, the name "Trok Eridana" was hewn roughly into the stone, including the years of his birth and death. The difference was a mere 28.

Her brother had never had the opportunity to grow old like her parents had. He left his wife, pregnant, widowed. Salene didn't know where the poor woman was, only that she'd taken a new husband and left immediately elsewhere with him. But this man had been cruel, and she wasn't sure that the child would survive until adulthood.

Salene kneeled at the grave, brushing her hand over the earth that was now overgrown with grass and weeds. Ivy slowly wound its way up the grave marker, further decaying the stone. She wasn't sure how much longer it would be until it would be rendered as unrecognizable as many other ancient markers here, the name worn off and the stone serving merely as another number, more of a statistic than a memorial.

The memory of loss overwhelmed the female warrior, and indignantly close to the ground, kneeling, a few silent tears escaped Salene's dark brown eyes. However, it only took her a moment to realize how weak she must look, and she wiped her eyes, stood, and regarded the grave with a bowed head, resting her hand the hilt of her brother's gladius, which she vowed one day to return to his grave with him. But for now, she had no other weapon.

[Firon]

Firon walked silently past grave after grave, an age or mores worth of fallen soldiers and theives, lords and peasants. All were buried in neat rows, side by side, many regardless of class, simply another stone marker in an endless sea of graves. In Firon's rare visit to this place, he had always been alone, no one else had been there at the same time as him. Yet now he spotted a lone kneeling figure.

After reprimanding himself for not noticing her sooner, even though she appeared to be of no thread. Firon still approached her from behind, so that, even if she did prove to be a threat, he would have the initial upper hand.

"You are alone." he observed, "What is your name, child?" he asked, out of swords reach from her, a hand on each of his blades just in case.

[Salene]

Salene had been so lost in mourning that she hadn't even noticed the approach of the drow. It was a peculiar slip up on her part, to let her emotions get the better of her in such a way, but she'd also taken it for granted that she would be alone.

As soon as she heard his voice, she spun and drew her gladius in one fluid movement, pointing it directly at him, even though the short sword didn't appear to be particularly threatening. Her entire body tensed, ready to launch into an attack in a split moment if that was what she had to do.

"Salene Eridana," she replied coolly, her stance not calming even slightly. She observed that he was ready to launch into a fight as well, which seemed to suggest that he didn't have any bad intentions, as he appeared ready for defense as opposed to offense.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" Salene asked, biting back the urge to reprimand him for sneaking up behind her like that, though she realized she likely would have done the exact same thing. It seemed they had at least that in common.

[Firon]

So, the probability that this girl was a fighter of sorts was fairly high, Firon decided, watching the girl's startled reactions carefully. Still, she could do with a bit of improvement when it came to avoiding surprise attacks. He never should have been allowed to sneak up so easily, although this was a simple human, thus she would be nowhere near as skilled as a drow, Firon thought to himself, sizing up the girl in front of him.

Firon was clearly amused by the girl's actions, shown clearly by the smirk he now wore, "Do you intend to skewer me with that little toy of yours?" he asked, drawing each of his blades in turn with deliberate slowness, "You don't honestly expect to have a fight here and now, do you?" he continued on, completly disregarding the question she had aimed at him.

[Salene]

Salene pulled a sour face at his jab at her sword, but she remembered how surprisingly deadly she could be with it. It allowed her to maneuver in for a quick death blow, something that was far more difficult to do with his two larger, more cumbersome swords. She regarded him carefully, her brown eyes filling with distrust, though not at his race. It was never a trait of Salene to judge without knowing, but so far, Firon as an individual seemed to be the type that she wouldn't enjoy the company of.

"As a matter of fact, I'd much rather not," she stated, though not easing her stance. She was simply on the defense, in case he for whatever reason decided to launch an attack. Salene repressed a growl deep in her throat, angered by his harsh words. Something about him suggested that thus far he had completely misjudged her, probably mistaking her one slip up for a common trait, and assuming that she being human and female immediately made her completely harmless.

"To fight you would be a completely worthless action. There are too many bodies here of lives that were ended that foolishly." For a warrior, it was apparent that Salene had a remarkably peaceful nature. She wasn't the kind to battle unless it was for a cause of greater good. Her life was worth more than to be lost at the hands of some drow with nothing better to do than pick a fight.

[Firon]

"I couldn't agree more," Firon sneered in apparent contempt, not worried in the least about the weapon the girl carried. After all, a human is always a human, "It would be so unfortunate to add another body to the great multitude already present, especially such a pretty little thing as yourself."

"Besides," he added offhandedly, "I don't kill children, especially those who haven't a fighting chance." Sheathing both his swords as swiftly and silently as he had drawn them, he turned back to Salene, "Put down that little knife of yours, I am in no mood for games."

[Salene]

Salene usually either had a rather serious demeanor, and if not, a cheery one. At the moment, however, her gaze was acid, and rage filled every corner of her mind as she thought darkly of ways to dismember the drow, though she knew she wouldn't do so. She was far too civil, but still, she wanted to teach him a lesson.

But as he sheathed his swords, Salene knew that she couldn't. Picking a fight was certainly not wise, especially since it seemed he would certainly kill her if she attacked and yet decided not to finish the job. She slid her sword carefully into the sheath on her thigh, not removing her gaze from Firon for a moment, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, her frame tense.

I'll show you pretty little thing... she thought, but stopped herself from saying. Once again, instigating was a bad idea.

"I don't know if I'd trust your sense of fighting chance. It might do you some good to watch who you tempt." Salene's voice was as cool and indifferent as she could muster, her face deliberately hardened as she fought back a sneer. She cocked an eyebrow and regarded him carefully, biting on the inside of her right cheek.

"Now, if you'd be so kind to tell me your name..."

[Firon]

Watch who you tempt. Watch who he tempts indeed. She was lucky he was in no mood to kill off her kind, much of an annoyance as thir entire race was. He didn't like this particular human much, although she showed infinately more spirit than most others he had seen. It was generally quite easy for him to intimidate these creatures, yet she actually seemed to have some warrior spirit, given she was still only human.

"Firon," he said, withholding any hint of emotion from his voice, even now the scorn which he so plainly still held towards her, "And unless you have had no schooling at all, I am a drow."

[Salene]

Salene seemed incredibly annoyed with the drow, her expression very taut, her stance clearly agitated. If he would merely regard her as an equal, she'd be perfectly content to be of more pleasant company, but the warrior was an incredibly stubborn woman.

It took almost every scrap of willpower she had to stop herself from resting her palm on the hilt of her sword, which could easily be taken as a hostile gesture. Instead, she watched him carefully, clearly not afraid in the slightest.

"Quite pleased to meet you," Salene stated sarcastically, her tone rather acidic. She'd never been entirely fond of people who refused to take her seriously. Now, if he HAD fought her and proved his prowess superior, Salene would be completely content to back off, but as far as she knew, she'd encountered few worthy adversaries, even among his kind. She'd been trained since she could hold a practice sword in the art of battle, and on top of that, she'd come from a very long line of warriors and mercenaries, both businesses in which the laws of natural selection still applied.

"Yes, I'd noticed you were a drow, though I fail to see why it is of such importance to point that out." Salene had never been one to judge others merely on such a shallow basis. She was an educated woman, literate and taught the basics of history and figuring by her parents, who saw their profession as no excuse for ignorance.

"And in case you have no schooling, I am a human, though I had given you at least enough credit to assume you had noticed."