Description: K' gives Alma the fight the latter requested of him. Both learn a little more about the other in the process. K' learns there's more to the other boy than just looks and an unreal amount of sickening niceness (why is everyone so encouraging?!); Alma learns that psychic connection with K' is a quick way to send him straight from 'indifferent' to 'mad enough to maim.' Watch for: only two successful reactions... EVER
Brittle leaves sketch color through the darkened winner sky, flares of red and burnt sienna as the last of this year's life descends. The YFCC often has an expanded staff on the weekends, as students who are otherwise occupied take time out to volunteer and spend some time with their favorite up-and-coming young fighters, and Alma Towazu feels comfortable taking a little time off to visit some of his favorite spots.
His walk through the park has been sedate. Autumn and winter are his favorite seasons, and he has not been able to return here for a while. Having learned to appreciate Metro City, he now sees how a knowledge of other places casts a new light on his hometown, helping him to love with greater understanding its own nuances. This place, however, will always have a special place in his heart, and in many respects, returning here is like returning home.
He has trod the paths he first trod a child, hands slipped into the pockets of his designer jeans, courderoy blazer and elegant white scarf defending him from a cold he does not seem to feel. His mild-mannered, peaceful expression seems never to change, and though his eyes are alert he passes by the other visitors as though they are invisible to him.
No one is invisible, of course, to one who sees life as a splash of vibrant color, one for whom each person is an assault upon the senses. But Alma is, in his quiet way, intent upon his goal. He wanders apparently aimlessly for some time and without a watch to know how long he has gone, but intuition leads him to exactly where he wants to go and, conveniently, exactly when he ought to be there.
It is a bridge, only moderately well kept and suspended over a stream that has since run dry, a part of the park that was once beautiful and has since fallen into partial decay, in a section of the park rarely visited now. But Alma remembers this bridge from before, a striking memory from earlier days, from a child's eyes, eyes which retained few memories.
The handsome young man crosses his arms behind his back and stretches up, closing his eyes and breathing deeply of the winter air, tasting his past again.
~ He should be here soon. ~
Alma Towazu. A young man who sees and acknowledges every passerby, even though he seems oblivious-- failing to spare anyone even a second glance. Peaceful, collected, and stately, he arrives as he waits: with patience, and without tension. His lingering upon the bridge is a pause as natural as the click of a puzzle piece into place.
His apparent opposite-- in temperament and movement alike-- presently arrives, coming slowly up the path before Alma is forced to wait too long. There is little natural or peaceful about him, in stark contrast. Focused and direct as a bird in a stoop, shoulders pulled in not against the cold but against the world itself, his entire self is closed off: the boy permitting no outsider in, and paying no mind to anyone outside himself. His steps prowling and restless in comparison to Alma's sedate walk, his nature is felt easily before his face-- shadowed by long, feathery silver hair-- is ever seen.
He appears as oblivious to cold as the young model, if not even more so: jeans, leather jacket, and a thin-looking shirt the only thing protecting him from the elements. Presumably, he also wears those everpresent gloves-- one metallic and heavy, the other mere leather. A hand paws briefly up to his bare neck, pulling briefly at the double-looped cord of his necklace to adjust the cross in a gesture of habit.
With a lab-ingrained precision, K' stops a few inches before the start of the bridge proper: leaving a generous space between himself and Alma. That bowed head lifts, wind sifting through white hair. A few strands catch briefly in the hinge of his shades; he does not appear to notice. For the time being, he says nothing: waiting for Alma to express his intentions, or else to attempt small talk so he may be cut off. To anyone else, the silence-- coupled with the expressionlessness afforded by those shades-- would likely be intimidating. For Alma... who knows.
Alma smiles softly.
~ Right. ~
Emerging from his reverie as soon as K' comes to a stop, the tall youth turns his head toward his newly-hired subordinate, and his smile widens into a warm grin, eyes calm but friendly.
"Good afternoon, K."
He's quite blissfully unaware of why K' seemed to prefer 'K' to 'Kevin', but Alma casually considers it none of his concern. It's hard to weird out a psychic, and perhaps that's why Alma also seems unconcerned but K''s demeanor and appearance. The raging fire he perceives is far more distracting than the physical form that others would contend with-- and when he sees how K' contains it, how he struggles, it is difficult to see him as truly dangerous. Strong, but not dangerous-- for the strong may be relied upon.
"I hope the YFCC has been treating you well so far," he says amiably in his usual mild tones, turning to face the other man and approaching the center of the bridge. "I apologize for not being able to be of much aid to you personally, but I was confident you would do well."
Still grinning, he reaches up to rub the back of his head.
"I'm glad you could meet me like this."
It might seem strange to others if they knew what Alma was doing: bringing a fight to the place of one of his few childhood memories. But for Alma, this is no invasion. The present is always suffused by the past. The past is renewed every day; it gives the perspective that guides one's perception of the world. But thus, as one's perspective changes, so too does the past, at least the past as it is preserved in memory. There is nothing to be lost, nothing to be ruined-- only something to be gained, a fusion of possibilities.
Besides, K' seems tough, and Alma needs all the help he can get.
"Shall we?"
With every breath, he feels stronger.
Alma shifts his feet, straightening his back and relaxing his limbs, and slipping one hand into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans, tilts his head up slightly. His eyes flash, glinting in the cold sunlight-- and with a heat that rises from within.
~ I'd better not burn that pretty face. ~
His grin widens for a moment, as though amused.
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: K' has joined the fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Alma gathers his will.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 K'
Some would compare K' to a wolf, but the analogy-- while apt in some ways-- is not entirely accurate. Wolves have a conception of hierarchy, of submission and of pack instinct, after all; but K', with respect to those aspects, is more like a sort of cat. He can be confined, he can be leashed and momentarily tamed-- but it will only be as it pleases him. To infringe on his pride, or upon his formidable will, is to risk him simply turning his back and walking out the door.
A difficult sort to work with. But perhaps not an insurmountable challenge for one so perceptive as Alma.
The boy himself seems disinclined to provide any hints as to how to handle him. For a while, he does not even respond the psychic: at least, not to trade niceties or empty greetings. Eventually he simply slides his shades off, one-handedly twitching the arms shut with a minute flick of the wrist and a deft movement of fingers. How has the YFCC been treating him? "Well enough," is his short reply, his voice rasping and curt: words bitten off abruptly, as if he were impatient to get them out and over with. His bared eyes settle in a direct gaze on Alma's, the color of them not unlike a sunset seen warmly through a glass of scotch. They're not just entirely yellow, as might be surmised at first glance. Some of that fire bleeds through, even despite his best efforts to keep that latent, stolen power chained back.
And then, again, someone apologizes to him. K''s eyes half-lid briefly as he recalls Frei's humbleness, a brief flicker of displeasure running in a muted current beneath his outward inscrutable silence. "It doesn't matter to me whether you help or not." Those shades slip into the inside pocket of his jacket. A casual roll of his shoulders loosens the muscle there, unsticking the collar of his jacket; his head tilts to one side in a muted crack of the neck. "I get by either way."
But this. -This- is what he is more interested in. It's perceptible in the way his aura shifts from that damnable flatline into something tenser: more alert. He settles, watching Alma with a sort of silent intensity: as if he can feel the energy spiking in the air. His eyes narrow slightly as he tastes the rising power-- but rather than be deterred by it, he seems spurred to attack. His lean figure whips forward from a dead standstill, cracking from zero to 'pretty fast' as he aims a snapkick for the psychic.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks K''s Minutes Spike.
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Alma 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 K'
Only his past saves him.
Clarity pierces Alma like no winter air could. K' strikes entirely without warning, and Alma cannot see the future. He can sense the violence, but the violence is everywhere with K', and K' himself is almost quicker than his aura, as many great fighters are.
But Alma seems to see himself, a smaller self, pointing -- Look there! -- and he sees his parents smiling again, sees that day as though it is today. And he knows exactly what to do.
He lights up the sky.
"Hmmn--"
The fighting model responds immediately with his own kick that parries K''s and steps smoothly and immediately into a second, white flames streaked with glittering pink and purple seeming to carve through the overcast dimness. Even if the powerful Soul Power enhanced roundhouse misses, Alma will continue his attack, seemingly buoyed up into the air as he rises up into another firepowered slash kick that leaves a bladelike streak in the air, aiming this time for the side of his opponent's head.
"HA!"
Using his past, he'll create a future.
Even as he attacks, he grins softly, apparently entirely untroubled.
This, he is certain, is the way.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits K' with Rising Fury.
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Alma 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 K'
Turned aside by the force of Alma's first kick, K''s striking leg hits the ground and skids forward until it locks into a wide stance. The boy keeps his balance only by the edge of a knife, a hiss escaping him as he lands awkwardly: left open to retaliation, which comes swiftly. K''s yellowy eyes twitch in clear surprise even as that second blow hits squarely, turning aside his face and painting a crescent of blood on the bridge.
It feels just like the energy those women used. Shihong, Cherise. The girl, Miu. And he's starting to dislike it. It's invasive in a way chi is not.
A growl pushing out of the back of his throat, K' straightens from his wide stance. His eyes track upwards, following the psychic, and abruptly-- that fire within him can be felt to break its restraints. It mixes with the violence in him, suffusing his entire being. And suddenly, joining that sudden blaze is the pain that it causes, both in the sense of an actual -burn- felt in the veins, beneath the skin... and in the sense of a suppressing current abruptly springing to life within him, wresting control of that unstable burst of energy in a way the boy himself cannot. K''s jaw tightens, a sharp focusing on Alma the only outward indication of the volatile events that surround his usage of the Kusanagi fire.
K''s hand coils tensely, fingers clawing-- and it ignites abruptly in a lurid display of surprising flame, a wide arc of fire heating the chill autumn air to mid-summer warmth in an instant as the NESTS project rakes upwards. K' cuts a sharp upwards kick through those flames clear at Alma, trying to impact him both with the blow... and with the fire itself.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Alma with Second Shell.
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Alma 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 K'
Alma's grin fades.
Not at the growing intensity of the fight, or even the flames that shear up through the air and blast against his vulnerable chest with K''s counter-kick, sending Alma spiralling back down to the ground. No, even as he recovers in midair to flip and land neatly to sink into a low crouch, looking like a coiled spring, Alma is preoccupied. It is the sense of his psychic energy impacting against K''s aura, finally getting his first true close-up feel of his opponent's psyche, that has got him thinking. The abrasive youth is strong, indeed, and has a strong will. He needs a strong will to contain the power that, for whatever reason, seems to struggle within him, struggle constantly to be freed.
But how strong is it?
Alma normally is quite comfortable breaking his opponents' wills. Not because he has any interest in mastering anyone; no, that would not even make sense from his perspective. The fight is his excuse to inflict pain, the pain necessary to shatter the human perspective that naturally differentiates the world between self and other, a distinction Alma has found to be ultimately false. Through his power, he can show them a different world, give them a brief glimpse of how it feels to have the world pass through you-- to feel what, in fact, actually happens, one way or another. Besides, Alma must lower his own mental inhibitions, such as they are, to release that power in the first place, so it is not as though he is asking any more from his opponent than he gives himself. It's just harder for them.
But Alma is not consumed by such transcendant goals, not so much that he is pleased to inflict pain-- and he has become even less so recently, because for the first time he is truly grounded in some very real earthly ambitions. He has the YFCC to protect, something greater than himself, something that cannot exactly be a part of him the way his friends and family can. So he has certain conventional concerns.
And, indeed, he is concerned. How strong exactly /is/ K''s will, and what happens when he loses control? If he did not have faith in the boy, he would not have given him the job he did. But this is something important to know. He didn't think of it beforehand, but perhaps this was another reason why his intuition guided him here.
Alma nods to himself once, silently.
So be it.
"Hmn!"
He explodes upward into a sudden lunge, power flaring around his right arm as he attempts to close in abruptly and emit a lance of raw soulfire into K''s body, striking purely with ethereal mind-crushing force.
He'll give everything he's got.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits K' with Self Expression.
- Power hit! -
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Alma 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 K'
The fire lingers about K''s lean form a few moments, even after that attack has long since completed: the boy's head turning, eyes dispassionate in the manner of a machine locking on, to track the other as he lands in a slight skid. Presently the fire snuffs with a muted snarl and hiss, going out with a thought-- or, more accurately, a thought and a corresponding flicker of current from the glove, which shuts off his fire -for- him at command. To Alma, that flicker of quelling, controlling impulse might taste bitter; for K' certainly feels bitter about it.
But it is not out of the range of reason for Alma to have his mundane concerns about K'. The boy is volatile, unpredictable-- possessed of a power he seems in a constant struggle to dominate and hold back. Such is the force of will beneath that cold exterior that it is often impossible even for the mundane-- those without second sight-- to ignore him for long. The struggle of conflicting forces within him, of conflicting attitudes is invisible to most, but they can guess at it nonetheless. Overbearing pride coupled with a profound self-loathing; strength and tenacity paired with an insecurity of spirit and a crushing fear that makes him afraid to wake up some mornings. Hardly someone to be counted on as stable.
Instable-- and reckless. Another point of concern, perhaps? The boy fails to move as Alma abruptly closes with him, tensing as he wills another swarming rush of fire before him. He's nullified chi with his fire before, sent opposing energy scrambling with the sacred flames-- but Alma's energy is different, entirely different, something K' realizes an instant too late. The lance sinks home, piercing abruptly through in a surge of psychic force, and K'-- hating the sensation of it-- rips himself away abruptly, increasing the very damage of it with his rapid retreat. He lands in a crouch, one hand to the ground, skidding backwards with a hiss and a slight bare of teeth: "...hate that fucking energy."
Fire lights around him again, throwing K''s shadow across the bridge in sharp relief. It bursts before him in a ring abruptly, seething tensely in conjunction with the active hum of his glove's current, and he rises abruptly from his crouch to snap a spinkick at the mess of flames, sending it rushing in a bolt at Alma.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Alma with Second Shoot.
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Alma 1/=======/=======|=======\-------\1 K'
Alma's will steels in recognition of K''s own, and it is this resolve that gives him a heightened penetrating edge to his powers. He can see too his opponent's frustration with the unique quality of his energy -- you don't need to be a psychic to notice that -- but he is not dismayed, and neither, it seems, is K'.
The wave of fire that explodes forth is simply too much for Alma. The handsome vice-president does nothing wrong: his guard is solid and his feet are grounded, and he feels as prepared for the impact as he can possibly be. But as prepared as he can be is still no match for the raw force of K''s unbridled chi, and with a grunt the tall youth is hurled to the ground, landing flat on his back with the breath knocked from his lungs. It is a testament to his determination that he rolls backward and to his feet even as he struggles from breath.
A surge of passion is his response to his opponent's offensive capabilities; now this, this is a challenge! He will see the limits of K''s will, whatever they are, in time. For now, this is their fight.
"Well done," he murmurs-- for he is close enough to be heard now, having sprung in to twist into a fierce spinning back knuckle. It is a feint, however, and the fist drops low as Alma sinks into a crouch, spinning instead into a low sweep kick intended to knock K' to the ground in response, and regain the momentum he lost in being struck by the flame.
COMBATSYS: K' fails to interrupt Light Kick from Alma with Claw Bites.
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Alma 1/=======/=======|=======\-------\0 K'
Not dismayed, no. But certainly frustrated-- and that frustration seems to be bleeding into his performance. Getting him angry. Anger is an everpresent sort of emotion for K', one he is by now used to-- but nonetheless, just as it can occasionally aid him... it can also occasionally cause him to slip up.
Partly for that reason, partly due to simple error, he fails to recognize the feint for what it is. K' straightens abruptly, eyes narrowing on the incoming attack; he literally lights with fire, a rush of crimson flames searing along his right arm as he swipes what is -certain- to be a punishing blow straight at Alma--
--only to find that Alma snakes beneath his offensive at the last moment, sweeping K' to the ground in one deft movement. K' goes out almost immediately like a candle put under a jar, hitting the ground on his back with a snarl. With a spin of long legs he immediately recovers back to his feet in a low crouch, prowling back a few steps in decided wariness. In their keen regard of Alma, his yellow eyes bear a disturbing resemblance to that of a wolf's lurking just outside the reach of a campfire's light.
That could have gone poorly.
Alma was quick enough this time, but a droplet of sweat trickles down the side of his face, tracing one high cheekbone as he withdraws a few paces, not following up on his sweep attack. The sense of that enormous power suddenly surging combined with his opponent's rapid recovery has been a bit unnerving. If Alma isn't careful, he realizes, he'll walk into something stronger than he can handle.
And he hasn't even showed his true power yet.
Maybe it's time to change that.
"Hmph!"
Alma meets K''s eyes with a dangerous stare of his own, hazel eyes flashing with glimmering motes of pink and purple, effervescent power rising within him, and he clenches a bronze-skinned fist.
"Get ready!" he announces, voice clear, gaze sharp.
Again flames burst to life around his fist, crackling with the very intensity of his stormy spirit, but he does not move to attack. Shuddering as his soul strains within him, opening a path to channel the energy around him, calling upon the ambiance of the area, the meaning of it to him, every ounce of his being, and making it food for the fire that he now prepares to turn on his opponent--
"RRRRYYAAAAAHH!"
--only then does he strike.
Punching the bridge fiercely, he does no damage to the wood; instead, all the force from his blow streaks forward quickly like a darting snake of light until it reaches K''s feet. It explodes upward then, and though it somehow leaves the bridge untouched, the torrent of blazing power that emerges from this geyser assault may be enough to blast K' off his feet again, as Alma strikes with his own essence.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits K' with Full Confession.
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Alma 0/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 K'
There is one thing that many opponents have noticed about K'. Incredible tenacity. He moves and acts as if trained-- no, engineered-- to take withering punishment and get up immediately afterwards. He weathers things that should have reduced any normal boy of his stature to nothing but ash, and then pushes on: still fighting, burning his own wounds shut, attacking until he has no strength left to put behind blows.
That tenacity is one of the only reasons he can endure through this particular attack without simply breaking. Caught completely by surprise in the manner it manifests, he is hit -dead on-. Struck with such a blow, any normal boy would have hit the ground hard on his back with spine-shattering force, and then failed to move entirely thereafter. K'? K' seems to head that way at first, his lean frame limp up until the apex of his ascent-- and then, it snaps abruptly to life, long legs whipping around to spin K' in midair so he can land in a trembling, crashing skid on all fours. He hits ground in a low enough crouch, his balance askew, that an elbow drags along the ground as his momentum bleeds off. And for a while, he simply stays right where he stops, mantled like an animal: panting shallowly, a muted growl pushing out of his throat as he rolls his slightly-displaced shoulder back with an agonizing click and a pained bare of teeth.
"...You're the first person I fought with that kinda power that was any fucking good," he presently informs Alma in a rasping, amused snarl, rising to a stand. Briefly, he interrupts himself to spit blood to one side, letting his neck roll briefly in a crack before he glances back at Alma with a new, appraising sort of look. In a way, it's good for Alma to have proven his strength in this manner. Fierce, independent, and difficult to tame as he is, K' would be considerably harder to manage if he didn't have any respect for the young vice-president of the YFCC. And strength is one of the few things he will respect.
He stays standing where he is a moment, a subdued sort of fire licking about him: cleanly burning away what blood was drawn by the abrasions of gravel. Thoughtfully, he licks a canine as he considers Alma. "...might have to stop dicking around with you," he eventually finishes, his dour face cutting abruptly into a grin.
COMBATSYS: K' gains composure.
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Alma 0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 K'
~ Goodness gracious. ~
Alma, chest heaving, looks with newfound respect of his own upon his opponent. He speaks no words, but his expression, normally so unrevealing, says as much as K''s comments. He felt that power impact. It's certainly not that K' isn't feeling the pain-- far from it. The boy is simply driven to rise again and again, and that, more than any sheer toughness, Alma can truly admire.
"Incredible," he finally murmurs, shaking his head and smiling softly at K''s grin. If this is his opponent's attitude about combat and pain, Alma no longer has any doubts, whatever the limits of K''s self-discipline. Everyone has a breaking point; that's not really the isuse. But K', he has decided, against all appearances, has a good attitude. Yeah, I know, right? Alma is probably the only one who thinks so. But the model has standards all his own.
"You'd better hurry, then."
Voice low, scarf fluttering in a gathering breeze, Alma's eyes continue to glint with sparkling energy, even after emitting that mighty geyser.
"Or I'm going to end this here!"
He hasn't yet felt the full brunt of K''s prowess, and he doesn't feel the need to if it's not necessary. More than anything, Alma himself wants to give his all, give a testament to his new self here in this home for his old self. Reaching deep within from strength he barely knew he has, Alma calls upon the ultimate in his fighting spirit and, soul sings with joy at the culmination of his efforts, entire body now glowing with passion and purpose, he charges.
"HaaaaaaAAAAAHH--"
And then he is gone. Vanished. Flickered out of existence.
For he is behind K' now, reaching out, and aiming to place his hand on the back of his silver-haired opponent's head, to rest it there gently...
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits K' with Absolution.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|=======\====---\1 K'
...and send the world pouring into K''s skull.
The bridge itself has fuelled Alma's inner fire. Those happy moments he had once shared here with his family, they are the building blocks of his identity, the wood to burn when his fighting spirit ignites. This truth is the lever he may use to pry himself open to the world, until he has mingled with it completely, memory connecting with reality and reality stretching out into infinity. Alma himself becomes the channel, and through his fire he may give another, just for a moment, all of that as a gift.
It is a gift that blows apart the mind, that shreds identity, that for a moment, in a bombardment of light and pain and tranquility, makes it impossible to feel alone.
Then it is finished and so, it seems, is Alma.
"Haaaaah..."
With a deep sigh, Alma lowers his hand and closes his eyes, seemingly at peace.
K''s expressions wipe away as quickly as his moods change. His momentary glimmer of harsh, rough playfulness vanishes in smoke as fast as it came. None of his showings of emotion ever linger long, as if the fire within him instilled too great an impatience for him to maintain any semblance of stability. But though he has returned to his emotionless regard, the fact remains that he no longer quite regards Alma the same as he did when he first set eyes on him. Scorn and skepticism have given way to a grudging sort of tolerance. But even despite that cold respect, there are still some things he will not-- or cannot-- tolerate.
Still panting shallowly, trying to center himself and regain control over his internal fire as much as such a volatile person can, he isn't expecting Alma to be able to produce another burst of raw power again quite so soon. He registers the words Alma says, realizes what they mean-- but in that time Alma has the opportunity to connect. And what a connection. K' noticeably stiffens rather than relaxing, as the expected reaction might be. To his shattered, razed mind-- empty and devoid of memory by dint of pain, stress, and experimentation far beyond what a young boy should endure-- the introduction of other, outside information is too difficult to recognize as foreign for him to parse it as something benevolently external. It confuses him, at first. Is this burst of memory and thought his? Is this what NESTS has made him forget? Unlike normal people, he is unable-- immediately-- to discern that it is not.
More than that, to such a violently closed-off, defensive individual, such a psionic connection is a violation beyond measure. To someone with no conception or memory of family, of love, or of not having to feel alone, this wash of tranquility feels like a mockery-- a farce. A display of the sort of thing he never had and never will have. And because of that, when K' finally regains the ability to grasp coherent thought of his own, the first emotion that blazes across his aura-- consuming it completely like an oil spill gone up in flame-- is enraged, torn -jealousy-. Pure envy. A deep and old bitterness that's had years to set into his very bones.
A strangled sound kicks out of his throat, mingling with a snarl of complete blind anger. The boy whirls like a wounded creature biting instinctively at the source of whatever's burned it, lashing out blindly in a vicious, childlike, and above all -hurt- sort of rage.
COMBATSYS: K' can no longer fight.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alma endures K''s Chain Drive.
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Alma 1/------=/=======|
Alma didn't necessarily want to feel the full brunt of K''s prowess if he didn't have to-- but it looks like K' is perfectly willing to give it to him if he's not prepared to deal with it. The NESTS experiment whirls into ripping motion with a blurring, fire-laced speed, flames surging to life about him as he simply -lays into- Alma mindlessly with unremitting, punishing strength. Hook punches lead into sweeps, into slashing kicks, into hard uppercuts, each blow moving seamlessly into the next with deliberate ferocity and rapid, barely-followable coordination. The speed of his strikes increases steadily, up until they just abruptly stop-- and after an infinitesimal pause, he drives clear forwards through his opponent, searing a line of still-burning fire into the ground.
Alma feels K''s pain.
He had thought, before, that he did not want to face the full brunt of his opponent's power, and he had meant it. In the midst of that battle, struggling to prove himself, he intended to give his all, and he most certainly did, managing with great effort to overcome his adversary's defenses. But this is different. What burns within K' now is a chain reaction set off by Alma's attack. This sort of thing has happened before, when the target truly isn't ready for what Alma has to give, when their body and soul reject on a basic level the fullness of his flame. That's fine.
What isn't fine is the howling monstrosity that has risen up within the silver-haired warrior-- and it is, Alma is convinced, his responsibility. He started this, and he has done everything he felt the need to do, reconnected with his past by reaching toward his future. Nothing can hurt him now.
At least, nothing can hurt his identity. His body is another story. Battered ferociously by the series of seamless flame-imbued strikes, the last blow sends Alma over the edge of the bridge, and as K' collapses from his wounds Alma is gone, fallen with a crash into what was once a flowing stream.
Silence.
Birdsong, the rustling of leaves.
Then, slowly, the quiet plodding of feet...
"Nngh."
And, gasping softly, Alma emerges from the underbrush, making his way back up along the bridge, slowly but surely approach the center again, dragging his feet, hands clutching at his body. Chest heaving with silent breaths, Alma regards K' with soft eyes.
He wants to apologize, but--
"Are you..."
--he feels oddly as though K' would like that even less.
"...going to be alright, K?"
COMBATSYS: Alma has ended the fight here.
By the time Alma picks himself up and comes slowly back, K' is standing on the bridge, right about where Alma started out. Stance wide, shoulders hunched, hands braced on the railing, he's nailed there immovably, hard eyes half-shadowed by tousled silver hair fixed in a tense, furious stare out towards... well. As far as any outsider can tell, nothing in particular.
Of course, it's different for K'. He sees something. Something he'll see destroyed, yet.
His upright stance is deceptive. If he weren't leaning on that railing, he'd have collapsed long ago. It is that stubborn, fierce pride and tenacity which keeps him on his feet, even though he has to support himself to do it. And he's certainly trying to -hide- the fact that he needs support at all, though Alma would be the last person to be fooled by such an attempt to hide. Kind of an external analogue for his situation.
He doesn't respond to Alma for a long time. There is an odd, severe austerity about his demeanor now-- a stark contrast from his earlier blaze of temper, and an incongruous sight on a young man not even out of his teenage years. Presently, he finally flicks a yellow eye over at Alma, the look therein shockingly bitter-- and largely unrepentant. Alma can handle those wounds. And if he can't, well, he'll lose some of the harsh respect he got from the other boy this afternoon.
His expression twitches like it wants to crack a humorless sort of smile. It doesn't even get halfway. "...been hurt worse than that," he eventually shrugs. He doesn't clarify any further, but it should be clear from the ironic, bitter twist to his emotions, even if he hides it from his external actions and demeanor: he doesn't just mean the physical fight. "But." His voice hardens. "Don't do that again." His gaze meets Alma's squarely a moment with those words, cold and direct: and then it turns back forwards briefly, head dipping as his thoughts turn back to NESTS. His gloved hand shuts abruptly, vising about the railing, and it takes a slight splintering complaint of wood before he gets ahold of himself. With a disgusted hiss at his own lack of self-control, he lifts his head and tries to let some of that tension out with his next breath. It only sort of works, but for now 'sort of' is enough.
"--next time. I'm not gonna piss around with you." The abrupt change of topic is heralded by a slight lift and turn of K''s head, a fiercely-amused glint to his yellow eyes that could almost substitute for a smirk. "You exceeded my expectations. Think you can handle high standards?" Some of that damnable cockiness has returned, it seems-- though the slight sombre note still remains, beneath that blase arrogance.
Alma exhales quietly, looking visibly relieved, at those final comments.
"I appreciate that."
He says everything he feels he needs to say with this. He appreciates all of K''s efforts: the strength he brought to bear in the battle and his willingness to exceed it in a rematch; the struggle to control himself and his rage and hurt after Alma's merciless psychic assault; his dignity in the face of his sorrow. There must be, Alma feels, a lot of people who would underestimate K' as a person. Many young men consumed by sorrow become self-indulgent in their self-absorption, wallowing in their grief. K', in his standoffishness, might seem to be that sort of man, but Alma can tell that he is not. Self-absorbed, perhaps, as anyone so unique could easily become, but certainly not self-indulgent in his brooding. No-- anything but.
Alma appreciates that.
It must be difficult-- whatever it is.
Alma smiles softly, eyes gentle, hands slipped into his pockets.
"I think I can," he replies, subdued but warm. He seems tired, and not just from the fight. These are the moments, he thinks, when what is right and what is good are not the same. It was not good to do this to K'; he did not deserve it, and even if it helps him somehow in the end, the end does not justify these means. But in some way or another, it was right. It brought them closer together. It proved something to both of them. Looking at it, Alma cannot imagine himself having done anything differently, given the people that they are, the world that this is.
That does not mean, however, that he should be proud of it.
Embracing the situation, Alma does his best to feel K''s feelings.
It's not actually possible, of course, and he has no pretentions toward perfect empathy, but-- he has a certain obligation. As YFCC leader. As fellow fighter. As fellow human being. As Alma Towazu, in all of his integrity.
As someone who might begin to become, at least a little, K''s friend.
He'll meet K''s eyes clearly, but he can't exactly promise not to 'do that' again. This is how Alma is. This is what he does. He won't do it unless K' is prepared for the consequences, that much is sure. But the time may come when K' is ready to face the full brunt of Alma's own prowess, and when or if that time comes, Alma will not allow any oath to hold him back from ultimate striving.
For now, though, he understands.
"You have certainly," he continues softly, "met my standards."
Still smiling, he turns away, hobbling slightly, to look out over the crest of the bridge and towards the horizon, a skyline that seems somehow unchanged.
"I'm glad to have you with me."
K' is largely silent, so still and quiet as to seem carved from stone. A lot of people do underestimate him as a person, it's true. Whether it be because of his youth, his selfishness and self-absorption, or his eccentric tendencies towards rudeness and temper, most people don't get past the hard external shell of cold, deliberate malice to see any of the harsh strength beneath. But sometimes, he thinks a lot of the people who -don't- underestimate him... kind of overestimate him. Frei, and now Alma, both tried to paint him as someone who was-- at the least-- 'good.' Tried to talk about his positive qualities. And he just doesn't... think they're right. He doesn't think he -deserves- to be seen in that forgiving, positive light. Not now.
For if there is one thing K' isn't, it's self-indulgent. In reality, K' is one of the most ascetic young men of his age: harsh, reserved, and demanding. He is, quite literally, his own worst critic. It is, in part, because of his own crippling self-loathing and sense of inferiority, flaws which he struggles to get past every day.
Perhaps if he ever gets any healthy human contact, he might get past them faster. But from the way he shuts himself away, it'll be hard. Even for the friendly people of the YFCC.
All that is part of the reason he just looks more troubled-- and thereby, angrier, but mostly at himself-- when Alma says his soft, positive-leaned piece about his opinion of the young firewielder. His expression doesn't betray much, but the lick of bitter disbelief in him does. It bares a lot of what he's feeling. No, he's met no one's standards. He hasn't even met his own. He's not patient, not accommodating-- and he certainly didn't try to be, not in the way Frei tried to say he was. All it was was a mood. That's it.
He's not where he needs to be. And as far as he's concerned, he's just been dicking around. He needs to get serious-- but from where he is, where he stands, what he's got to do still looks so insurmountable.
Nonetheless, he doesn't pull his gaze away when Alma tries to meet his eyes. And something about the other's message gets through. K' blinks his gaze away with a short exhalation, a sound of scorn escaping him. The connotation is clear. Fine. Alma can try it again-- at his own peril. But nonetheless... he doesn't seem quite as irritated by the other man as he would usually be. Even though what the guy expresses would have merited a sharp, sneering word were it to come from almost any other man. Perhaps even K' can respond, in some subconscious and unreasoning way, to actual kindness. He's certainly never felt any -before-, in his short and miserable life. Not from anyone but Maxima... and Whip.
"...I hope you don't come to regret it," he eventually replies with a cold, sardonic shortness, turning his gaze back to the horizon, and though the phrase has more menacing connotations than it does positive ones... it still sounds sincere.
Log created on 23:30:43 12/08/2007 by K', and last modified on 00:56:07 12/10/2007.