This was not Khari's usual kind of spar.
But in a sense, it had been almost a foregone conclusion from the moment they'd met, back in the Emerald Graves. She liked to think she'd learned enough to recognize a master of the art when she saw one, and Amalia was no doubt a master at this whole fighting thing. Ithilian, too, but she also liked to think she knew the difference between someone who might indulge her masochistic tendency to challenge people far above her skill level and someone who would tell her to piss off. And as intimidating as she looked, it was Amalia of the two of them who would indulge.
One thing she was already much better at than she had been an hour ago was falling down hard and springing back up again quickly, even when she wasn't able to divert her momentum into a roll or anything. Amalia, in the opposite move from Mick's usual, had her sparring with no armor, just the clothes on her back, a rapidly-dirtying blue tunic and an ordinary pair of thick trousers. Despite the season, her face was red with exertion, sweat beading on her forehead and sliding down her face to drip off her chin. She had no weapons, just herself, and Amalia was punishing her for not knowing how to make better use of that fact.
“Oof!" She hit the ground hard on her back, failing to curl around herself in enough time to swing out of it the way she was trying to learn here. So she had to roll sideways and scramble to her feet the old fashioned way instead, taking several hasty steps backwards to avoid the fist flying for where her head was just about to be. She nearly fell again, steadying herself at the last minute. Her tongue darted out to wet her chapped lips; Khari tasted a coppery tang where the lower one had been split by Amalia's opening sucker-punch.
She swallowed and closed her mouth before she charged again; she'd already accidentally half-shredded the inside of her cheek when she'd failed to set her jaw the right way before and fell. So far, Amalia had made no attempt to follow her to the ground; either she wasn't the grappling type or simply chose not to. Either way, Khari wanted to force them there—it was the only chance she had to do anything that wasn't getting her ass handed to her. On her lunge, she made a grab for Amalia's waist, trying to tackle her into the snow.
Amalia's hand caught her arm before it could hit her and throw her balance off, and she pivoted smoothly, wearing Khari's momentum out before taking control of it. When she was facing exactly the opposite direction she'd been heading a moment ago, she felt the strange weight of Amalia... rolling over her back, it had to be, landing on Khari's other side. Khari's arm was now crossed uncomfortably across her own back, and Amalia used her grip on it to keep her from regaining her balance, even as she swept her feet out from underneath her.
She moved away while Khari ate snow again, though, as uninterested in following up as she had been throughout the whole match. It was the only way in which her utter ruthlessness was softened. She did not shy away from causing Khari pain, but she also did not hit her when she was already down, nor did she seem to be using every advantage she gained. Instead, she made them obvious, then backed off without a word, letting Khari stand and try once more.
"Again." That was, in fact, the only thing she'd said since they started, but she'd repeated it enough times to lose track of, at this point. Her expression was stoic; it was clear enough that she was used to doing this for hours, because her stamina didn't seem to be flagging. Her dark complexion showed some red from the exertion, but the clouds her breath formed were steady and regular, and she wasn't sweating nearly as much as Khari was.
Khari grinned back at her impassive face. This woman was brutal, and incredible at what she did, and fighting her, even like this, was exhilarating. She knew a lesson when she saw one, and though Amalia wasn't making her observations obvious, she was giving Khari plenty of opportunities to recognize her own mistakes and correct them. It was a mental challenge as well as a physical one—she was coming to appreciate the value of those lately.
She dare not spare the moment it would take to glance at their small audience, instead dropping her stance a little bit, holding her arms loose at her sides and beginning a slow circle, placing her feet carefully in the snow they were churning up beneath them. Mick, Ithilian, and Leon were all here, probably pretty amused by how it was going. But Khari didn't mind that. She'd never minded that kind of thing. Tilting her head to the side a little, she narrowed her eyes. “How 'bout you come to me this time?"
Amalia obliged, her motion sudden and explosive. The scrape of her boots against the snow when she lunged was just about all the warning there was; she struck fast, thrusting the heel of her hand for Khari's solar plexus. When it was blocked, she didn't waste time trying to turn matters into a contest of strength, instead pushing off the arm used to block and reversing her direction, pivoting behind Khari and wrapping an arm around her neck in a tight hold centered at the crook of her elbow.
The intent of it didn't seem to be to knock her out, though; Amalia's legs wound tightly around her waist afterwards, and she threw them both backwards into the snow, rolling them over and locking Khari's legs in place with her knees. The arm retreated from its chokehold, pressing in a solid bar on her shoulder blades instead. She was, for the moment, pinned.
There were about a dozen ways someone with a knife could have killed her in that course of movement, and probably a few more she was missing. Point taken. Khari tried to throw her opponent off her, but Amalia was solidly-placed, and wouldn't dislodge easily. Still... her arms were free.
Khari shuffled them to her sides, pressing her palms into the ground and shoving upward with all her strength at once. It worked a little better than she expected it to—Amalia was solid, but she definitely wasn't heavy, and she didn't quite seem to be expecting Khari to know how to handle a situation like this one. She managed to scramble to her feet again. Grappling probably wasn't going to help much, after all. Not if she knew a chokehold like that.
No sooner was she up than Amalia was directly in front of her, the index and middle fingers of her right hand resting on Khari's forehead, just at the fingertips. "Your tenacity is impressive," she said, the sentiment apparently genuine. A very small smile touched the corner of her mouth, lifting it just a little. It softened her whole face, which could have been quite harsh otherwise, between the scar and the mismatched eyes and the hard, almost masculine lines of her bone structure. "While I've no doubt that you have more passes still in you, I think it best that we stop here for today."
She let her hand fall away and took a step backward, inclining her head slightly.
Khari's eyes rounded slightly. “Today? You mean you'll do this again sometime?" She tried not to grin too widely at the thought, and probably failed. She was covered in dirt, melted snow, still-frozen snow, and sweat, so she probably made for quite the ridiculous image, hair askew and all, but she couldn't have cared less if she tried.
Amalia blinked. For a moment, she looked slightly surprised by something, though it wasn't clear what. Then her expression became thoughtful. "A glutton for punishment, aren't you?" From anyone else, that would probably have been a joke, but the serious tone with which she said it made it seem more like an observation than anything. "I... perhaps. It will depend on how circumstances develop. But I am not opposed in principle."
"She hasn't had a good sparring partner in a while," Ithilian said, approaching the pair from the side. He'd watched the match seated on a bench nearby, dressed warmly but not seeming too distressed by the cold. "I'm not much competition, and the Venatori go limp too easily." The degree to which he was joking about either subject was hard to tell.
“Still not sure she does." Khari admitted as much easily, then shrugged, her smile inching wider. “But if she beats on me enough, she might get one out of the deal. I'm fun that way, right Leon?" She raised her voice just enough to include the commander in the conversation, and Mick as well if he wanted.
Actually, come to think of it... “The Commander here only fights with his hands, too. I'd pay good money to watch them have a match." She was completely serious about it, too. Having fought and lost terribly to both of them, Khari couldn't say with complete confidence who'd win. Just looking at them, Leon was the obvious choice, but Amalia could clearly be ruthless on a par with Rilien if she got serious enough, and that might be enough to make up the difference. Plus, she was fast as hell.
"I think I'll defer," Leon replied. "I'm more fond of my dignity than you are of yours, Khari." Still, it was obvious enough that he was thinking about it, or had been thinking about it, and the way Amalia's eyes narrowed just slightly was a fair indication that she was, too. Neither of them commented further, though.
"I do not think I have met someone who fights like you before," Amalia said, directing the words to Khari. "It is not entirely dissimilar from the sten, in the beresaad." She paused, then her tone picked up a note of slight amusement. "But smaller."
Khari scrunched her face. Rather than genuine offense, however, it was more to keep herself from laughing than anything. “Convenient, right? I'm like a travel-sized bear. No one sees it coming." She bared her teeth in a grin, rubbing her hands together for both warmth and effect. Truthfully, she'd take that for a compliment. The Qunari were among the most formidable warriors in Thedas, physically and tactically. Her close read-throughs of the Qun had convinced her of the second part. The first needed no further proof than their success.
Speaking of which... “Amalia. That's Qunlat, right? This guy made me read the third Canto, so I've picked up a few of the original words, too." She poked Leon in the arm with her index finger. She knew both of them were people Stel knew from Kirkwall, people Lia considered like family, but really other than that she hadn't learned much at all. This was her first time really talking to them since the Graves. It was kind of a weird pair, a Qunari and a Dalish; both of them after a Magister. That part wasn't so hard to believe.
That actually seemed to surprise Amalia; her eyes flickered from Khari to Leon and back again. She crossed her arms loosely over her body. "It is. I am Tal-Vashoth, but the name is..." she shrugged. "I never found one I felt better for me, and so it remains."
A slight pause followed. Perhaps the follow-up was obvious enough. "And your name is Dalish." No doubt that wasn't the only thing. It seemed to be an invitation to elaborate on the strange nature of her fighting style, but Amalia didn't seem inclined to press too hard about it, which might have been why she never actually formed the question itself.
“Yup." Khari let the end of the word pop a little, her smile fading until it was something a little wry. “Haven't forgotten all of it, but... I'm not too good at the sneaky-arrow bit. So I learned other stuff instead. Leon helps, but that part's mostly Mick these days." She tipped her head towards the man in question. “Chevalier stuff."
"How to stab things without being stabbed in turn, mostly," Michaël clarified with a grin. The man had watched the spar with apparent interest from a distance. Perhaps making mental notes on what to include on her own training, or devising new ways to make her sore. "The theory is simple in comparison."
He then chuckled to himself lightly, and continued. "Of course, I am sure you are acquainted with the Chevalier stuff yourselves," he said, drawing the words out to tease Khari a bit. "You two were friends of Commander Lucien's, yes? He... may be the best example of what a Chevalier should be," he said to both Ithilian and Amalia.
"Still are," Ithilian said, studying the chevalier with his one remaining eye. "Of a sort. My daughter worked in his company before she came to join the Inquisition. We haven't spoken recently. Too busy on both sides, I'm sure."
Amalia tilted her head at Khari. "If your goal is to be as he is, you've chosen a difficult road. But also one with obvious merit."
She nodded once, then grimaced slightly. "Perhaps we could move our discussion indoors." She didn't outright say she was cold, but it was a fair guess that she was.
Khari nodded easily. “It's lunchtime anyway. Let's all get something to eat!" She clapped her hands together and turned on her heel, headed for the mess.
She almost couldn't think of better company.
But in a sense, it had been almost a foregone conclusion from the moment they'd met, back in the Emerald Graves. She liked to think she'd learned enough to recognize a master of the art when she saw one, and Amalia was no doubt a master at this whole fighting thing. Ithilian, too, but she also liked to think she knew the difference between someone who might indulge her masochistic tendency to challenge people far above her skill level and someone who would tell her to piss off. And as intimidating as she looked, it was Amalia of the two of them who would indulge.
One thing she was already much better at than she had been an hour ago was falling down hard and springing back up again quickly, even when she wasn't able to divert her momentum into a roll or anything. Amalia, in the opposite move from Mick's usual, had her sparring with no armor, just the clothes on her back, a rapidly-dirtying blue tunic and an ordinary pair of thick trousers. Despite the season, her face was red with exertion, sweat beading on her forehead and sliding down her face to drip off her chin. She had no weapons, just herself, and Amalia was punishing her for not knowing how to make better use of that fact.
“Oof!" She hit the ground hard on her back, failing to curl around herself in enough time to swing out of it the way she was trying to learn here. So she had to roll sideways and scramble to her feet the old fashioned way instead, taking several hasty steps backwards to avoid the fist flying for where her head was just about to be. She nearly fell again, steadying herself at the last minute. Her tongue darted out to wet her chapped lips; Khari tasted a coppery tang where the lower one had been split by Amalia's opening sucker-punch.
She swallowed and closed her mouth before she charged again; she'd already accidentally half-shredded the inside of her cheek when she'd failed to set her jaw the right way before and fell. So far, Amalia had made no attempt to follow her to the ground; either she wasn't the grappling type or simply chose not to. Either way, Khari wanted to force them there—it was the only chance she had to do anything that wasn't getting her ass handed to her. On her lunge, she made a grab for Amalia's waist, trying to tackle her into the snow.
Amalia's hand caught her arm before it could hit her and throw her balance off, and she pivoted smoothly, wearing Khari's momentum out before taking control of it. When she was facing exactly the opposite direction she'd been heading a moment ago, she felt the strange weight of Amalia... rolling over her back, it had to be, landing on Khari's other side. Khari's arm was now crossed uncomfortably across her own back, and Amalia used her grip on it to keep her from regaining her balance, even as she swept her feet out from underneath her.
She moved away while Khari ate snow again, though, as uninterested in following up as she had been throughout the whole match. It was the only way in which her utter ruthlessness was softened. She did not shy away from causing Khari pain, but she also did not hit her when she was already down, nor did she seem to be using every advantage she gained. Instead, she made them obvious, then backed off without a word, letting Khari stand and try once more.
"Again." That was, in fact, the only thing she'd said since they started, but she'd repeated it enough times to lose track of, at this point. Her expression was stoic; it was clear enough that she was used to doing this for hours, because her stamina didn't seem to be flagging. Her dark complexion showed some red from the exertion, but the clouds her breath formed were steady and regular, and she wasn't sweating nearly as much as Khari was.
Khari grinned back at her impassive face. This woman was brutal, and incredible at what she did, and fighting her, even like this, was exhilarating. She knew a lesson when she saw one, and though Amalia wasn't making her observations obvious, she was giving Khari plenty of opportunities to recognize her own mistakes and correct them. It was a mental challenge as well as a physical one—she was coming to appreciate the value of those lately.
She dare not spare the moment it would take to glance at their small audience, instead dropping her stance a little bit, holding her arms loose at her sides and beginning a slow circle, placing her feet carefully in the snow they were churning up beneath them. Mick, Ithilian, and Leon were all here, probably pretty amused by how it was going. But Khari didn't mind that. She'd never minded that kind of thing. Tilting her head to the side a little, she narrowed her eyes. “How 'bout you come to me this time?"
Amalia obliged, her motion sudden and explosive. The scrape of her boots against the snow when she lunged was just about all the warning there was; she struck fast, thrusting the heel of her hand for Khari's solar plexus. When it was blocked, she didn't waste time trying to turn matters into a contest of strength, instead pushing off the arm used to block and reversing her direction, pivoting behind Khari and wrapping an arm around her neck in a tight hold centered at the crook of her elbow.
The intent of it didn't seem to be to knock her out, though; Amalia's legs wound tightly around her waist afterwards, and she threw them both backwards into the snow, rolling them over and locking Khari's legs in place with her knees. The arm retreated from its chokehold, pressing in a solid bar on her shoulder blades instead. She was, for the moment, pinned.
There were about a dozen ways someone with a knife could have killed her in that course of movement, and probably a few more she was missing. Point taken. Khari tried to throw her opponent off her, but Amalia was solidly-placed, and wouldn't dislodge easily. Still... her arms were free.
Khari shuffled them to her sides, pressing her palms into the ground and shoving upward with all her strength at once. It worked a little better than she expected it to—Amalia was solid, but she definitely wasn't heavy, and she didn't quite seem to be expecting Khari to know how to handle a situation like this one. She managed to scramble to her feet again. Grappling probably wasn't going to help much, after all. Not if she knew a chokehold like that.
No sooner was she up than Amalia was directly in front of her, the index and middle fingers of her right hand resting on Khari's forehead, just at the fingertips. "Your tenacity is impressive," she said, the sentiment apparently genuine. A very small smile touched the corner of her mouth, lifting it just a little. It softened her whole face, which could have been quite harsh otherwise, between the scar and the mismatched eyes and the hard, almost masculine lines of her bone structure. "While I've no doubt that you have more passes still in you, I think it best that we stop here for today."
She let her hand fall away and took a step backward, inclining her head slightly.
Khari's eyes rounded slightly. “Today? You mean you'll do this again sometime?" She tried not to grin too widely at the thought, and probably failed. She was covered in dirt, melted snow, still-frozen snow, and sweat, so she probably made for quite the ridiculous image, hair askew and all, but she couldn't have cared less if she tried.
Amalia blinked. For a moment, she looked slightly surprised by something, though it wasn't clear what. Then her expression became thoughtful. "A glutton for punishment, aren't you?" From anyone else, that would probably have been a joke, but the serious tone with which she said it made it seem more like an observation than anything. "I... perhaps. It will depend on how circumstances develop. But I am not opposed in principle."
"She hasn't had a good sparring partner in a while," Ithilian said, approaching the pair from the side. He'd watched the match seated on a bench nearby, dressed warmly but not seeming too distressed by the cold. "I'm not much competition, and the Venatori go limp too easily." The degree to which he was joking about either subject was hard to tell.
“Still not sure she does." Khari admitted as much easily, then shrugged, her smile inching wider. “But if she beats on me enough, she might get one out of the deal. I'm fun that way, right Leon?" She raised her voice just enough to include the commander in the conversation, and Mick as well if he wanted.
Actually, come to think of it... “The Commander here only fights with his hands, too. I'd pay good money to watch them have a match." She was completely serious about it, too. Having fought and lost terribly to both of them, Khari couldn't say with complete confidence who'd win. Just looking at them, Leon was the obvious choice, but Amalia could clearly be ruthless on a par with Rilien if she got serious enough, and that might be enough to make up the difference. Plus, she was fast as hell.
"I think I'll defer," Leon replied. "I'm more fond of my dignity than you are of yours, Khari." Still, it was obvious enough that he was thinking about it, or had been thinking about it, and the way Amalia's eyes narrowed just slightly was a fair indication that she was, too. Neither of them commented further, though.
"I do not think I have met someone who fights like you before," Amalia said, directing the words to Khari. "It is not entirely dissimilar from the sten, in the beresaad." She paused, then her tone picked up a note of slight amusement. "But smaller."
Khari scrunched her face. Rather than genuine offense, however, it was more to keep herself from laughing than anything. “Convenient, right? I'm like a travel-sized bear. No one sees it coming." She bared her teeth in a grin, rubbing her hands together for both warmth and effect. Truthfully, she'd take that for a compliment. The Qunari were among the most formidable warriors in Thedas, physically and tactically. Her close read-throughs of the Qun had convinced her of the second part. The first needed no further proof than their success.
Speaking of which... “Amalia. That's Qunlat, right? This guy made me read the third Canto, so I've picked up a few of the original words, too." She poked Leon in the arm with her index finger. She knew both of them were people Stel knew from Kirkwall, people Lia considered like family, but really other than that she hadn't learned much at all. This was her first time really talking to them since the Graves. It was kind of a weird pair, a Qunari and a Dalish; both of them after a Magister. That part wasn't so hard to believe.
That actually seemed to surprise Amalia; her eyes flickered from Khari to Leon and back again. She crossed her arms loosely over her body. "It is. I am Tal-Vashoth, but the name is..." she shrugged. "I never found one I felt better for me, and so it remains."
A slight pause followed. Perhaps the follow-up was obvious enough. "And your name is Dalish." No doubt that wasn't the only thing. It seemed to be an invitation to elaborate on the strange nature of her fighting style, but Amalia didn't seem inclined to press too hard about it, which might have been why she never actually formed the question itself.
“Yup." Khari let the end of the word pop a little, her smile fading until it was something a little wry. “Haven't forgotten all of it, but... I'm not too good at the sneaky-arrow bit. So I learned other stuff instead. Leon helps, but that part's mostly Mick these days." She tipped her head towards the man in question. “Chevalier stuff."
"How to stab things without being stabbed in turn, mostly," Michaël clarified with a grin. The man had watched the spar with apparent interest from a distance. Perhaps making mental notes on what to include on her own training, or devising new ways to make her sore. "The theory is simple in comparison."
He then chuckled to himself lightly, and continued. "Of course, I am sure you are acquainted with the Chevalier stuff yourselves," he said, drawing the words out to tease Khari a bit. "You two were friends of Commander Lucien's, yes? He... may be the best example of what a Chevalier should be," he said to both Ithilian and Amalia.
"Still are," Ithilian said, studying the chevalier with his one remaining eye. "Of a sort. My daughter worked in his company before she came to join the Inquisition. We haven't spoken recently. Too busy on both sides, I'm sure."
Amalia tilted her head at Khari. "If your goal is to be as he is, you've chosen a difficult road. But also one with obvious merit."
She nodded once, then grimaced slightly. "Perhaps we could move our discussion indoors." She didn't outright say she was cold, but it was a fair guess that she was.
Khari nodded easily. “It's lunchtime anyway. Let's all get something to eat!" She clapped her hands together and turned on her heel, headed for the mess.
She almost couldn't think of better company.