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"It found you?"

She repeats it with a mixture of confusion and incredulity at the edges of her tone, trying to imagine what it would be like to be chosen by a weapon. She fails, and ends up smiling at her own lack of understanding.

"I think I will understand your ring better if you show me what it can do."

She brings her sword up between them again, blade turnes up so she can see either side of it at him.

"If you are ready?"

'Yes, it found me.'

He flexes his fingers, and the ring creates a construct of a sword comparable to hers in size. It also encases him in dark green armour, with a visor covering his face, leaving only his eyes, now intense and keen, visible. In the centre of his chest, the same symbol on his ring is emblazoned in green and black.

Then, he takes up a stance. 'I am. Come.'

"Do not hold back," Miria says. "Come at me with all your strength."

That is all the warning she gives before she is darting forward at a speed that makes her hard to make out in motion, even without drawing on any of her yoma power. Her sword clangs against his armor, and she smiles as she tries again.

It is a long match, and a fulfilling one. They may be matched in strength, but with the powers returning, Miria's speed is fast enough that at times it seems there's two of her, even if she can do nothing to get through his armor.

At the end of it, she's huffing to catch her breath, a light in her silver eyes that's echoed in the barest hint of her smile on her lips.

"That's quite the ring."

It's like having one's yoma power on the outside, instead of sewn up inside. But it's more than the power, she thinks. It's the man who wields it. She's learned more about him in the last hour than all the conversation could have provided.

He doesn't reply verbally, and he meets her blade with his, darting and dancing as fast as he can. She's fast, much faster, but he's fought speedsters who use the same tricks she does, and it's not difficult to adjust.

He fights mainly defensively, to hold his own ground as he's usually protecting civilians, but there are glimpses, when she forces him, where true steel shows and he goes on the offensive, and the intent to kill flickers in his eyes and movements.

His armour holds. Every time she slices into it, it regrows. He is focused, and determined, and he shows no outward signs of tiring when they're done. Instead, he exhales, letting his exhaustion flow through and out of him, before he stands up straight.

'So they say,' he says, openly smiling, as the constructs around him disappear.

She watches that exhaustion drain out with an envy she doesn't try to hide, standing up while her breath returns to her. Her opinion of him hasn't much changed from first impressions, but her esteem for him has grown considerably.

"I am glad," she says, "that I will never face you in a fight to the death. The ring chooses you, and not the Guardians?"

'Me too.' A pause. 'Yes, the ring does. When I die, it'll go on to choose another.'

Once he is fully in control of his own movements, he lets his shoulder slump a little and changes back from his uniform to the simple clothes he was wearing earlier, and gestures for her to join him, where he's got a small meal and a bottle of water under a tree.

"But the Guardians made the rings," Miria says as she follows him. "Why? With the sole purpose of defending people who needed it? Do they profit from it in some way?"

With a thunk, she plants her sword into the ground by the tree, in such a way that when she sits down, she can lean her back against the blade and be facing him as he eats and drinks.

"I'm sorry if I sound overly cynical. The Organization claimed benevolence, but they charged for our services."

'For maintaining order, where there was chaos and suffering. You could say they control territory, and have influence,' he remarks, pensive. 'There's a number of warring factions in the universe, and we are amongst the most steadfast. It's still power, even if we use it to help.'

Then, he shakes his head. 'Don't apologise. No system, however it appears, is beyond question, or should be. The only reason ours hasn't collapsed is because we change with the times, adjust according to the needs of those we serve.'

"Helping people is an effective way of maintaining that power," Miria agrees. "The fees the Organization charged were a good way of keeping most of the towns in the world from threatening their power in the continent."

Add in the Organization controlling the yoma, and they effectively maintained absolute power over the continent.

"Could you have declined, when the ring chose you?"

She's building up to something now, that's been on her mind since meeting Zatanna. Something that Kyle, with his parallels, deserves to know about her.

He nods again. 'We didn't charge, and we aren't paid. Weren't, rather. Wages are new.' And unnecessary is there too, in the words. He hated that they were paid. It wasn't the right incentive to help.

At her question, his brow actually furrows in confusion. 'I... don't know. I never thought about saying no. It's possible but I've never heard of anyone doing it. It's an honour, to be chosen.'

If no one has declined, she assumes, somehow, they are not given the option to decline. That something in the process of choosing makes rejection impossible. Maybe something in the magic of the ring (because Miria assumes the ring in magic), or the culture that comes from the world where the Guardians have control. Maybe something else, she isn't sure.

Whether Kyle himself would have picked it or not is irrelevant, really. He may well have done, but she doesn't really believe he had a choice.

Like her.

She explains: "On my world, warriors do not have a choice. We are sold as girls by our villages to the Organization and transformed into monsters. Choice doesn't come into it."

He looks at her, his expression heavy, processing all that's unsaid in her words, and senses her anger. He makes a mental note to check the Corps' archives, to see if anyone has said no. He knows of resignations when the rules changed, but when first chosen? Probably not.

'I'm sorry.'

It's quiet, and intense. He feels it's supremely inadequate, but he offers it anyway. 'I wouldn't make a different choice, but I wouldn't wish this life on anyone.'

"Please don't be."

Pity isn't really something she can process. Anger she would understand, but it's anger that belongs to her and her comrades and she wants no one to carry it on her behalf.

"I just wanted you to know that for all our similarities, there are many differences between us, and the people who created us."

He nods, apologetically. He would've said something similar, to be honest, and he can't begrudge her that.

'There are,' he agrees. 'But cruelty isn't a stranger to either of us.'

They've both been forged.

"Nor is anger," she says; nothing more than a statement of fact.

"I can't go back to being human," she says. "Even without my yoma power these last weeks it wasn't anything real."

This isn't a contrast between them. No matter how external the source of his power, he's been changed by his experiences as much as she is. She acknowledges that even if it doesn't make her words.

"But I would not, even if I could. Not while there are people who need protecting."

So it's sort of like she's making a choice?

'Nor is anger,' he replies, and that's really all they need to say on the subject. He dips his head, pausing while he eats, and considers. 'Neither of us fit the other's definition of fellow... warriors? That was the word you used. We're not fellow warriors.' It's not condescension, he's simply working out what the boundaries in this are. 'But I think we're allies.'

He'd seen how she fought, after all, and he had a feeling she didn't speak about this to anyone outside other silver-eyed people, really.

She almost smiles. He;s right, and it's difficult for her. But there are things he needs to know if he's going to be her ally.

"A fellow warrior, maybe. A comrade? No." That's her agreeing with him. He's not one of her sisters, he's not even comparable to the male warriors that once were. "Ally is a good word."

Maybe eventually friend will be a better one.

He smiles at her, it's a mixture of joy and wistfulness. 'Isn't it?'

A pause. 'As allies now, I have to confess: I didn't use my full strength against you. I can never do that: I will lose control of my power.'

Edited 2013-07-15 16:47 (UTC)

She pauses as well: thoughtful and unsmiling but wistful, and when she speaks it's with a soft tone that indicates understanding.

She's surprised to find a similarity here, but not shocked.

"Tell me."

Tell her what sort of monster your ring could make you, before she tells you about the monster she carries inside.

He puts down the sandwich, and is silent for a long time. The wind rustles through the leaves and he can hear a bird, in the distance. He has to go for the truth, as much of it he can explain (And he's never been very good with words).

'We have a saying, where I'm from,' he begins, carefully, with the cadence of a practiced storyteller. 'Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This,' he holds up his ring, 'is known as "the most powerful weapon in the universe". It can bring to life anything I want.' He flicks his wrist, and constructs birds fly out, disappearing up into the sky. 'It's useful, it's also extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. That's why it chooses its wielder. We're the least likely to use it against the people we protect.'

He pauses again, his fingers flexing.

'Least likely doesn't mean immune. I've been... responsible for atrocities.' And here, he has to stop, hold himself back. Control. Moved on didn't mean forgiven.

I will always carry it with me.

'I'd rather die than let that happen. I wanted to, my brother chose to pull me back.'

He remembers, the feeling of drowning, and burning, his veins hot and blood turning to poison.

Miria listens and watches impassively. But not showing any emotion externally doesn't mean she doesn't see his care, the way he holds himself back, the maelstrom of emotion behind it all. Her expressionless face doesn't mean she doesn't care.

"I did not use my full strength against you. Not what I am fully capable of, anyway."

To explain, further, she will need to explain the source of her power: something she told Zatanna, but not him, before she was sure of his reaction.

"I am half yoma. Everything I can do comes from the flesh and blood of a yoma that I took..." she stops herself, refusing to cite the party line on this, "...that was put into me when I was sold to the Organization. I can draw on that yoma power to make myself stronger and faster if I need to in battle, or to heal an injury.

"But if I draw on it too much, I risk losing myself to that power, and become a monster more powerful than normal yoma. It is called Awakening, and we are taught to see it as an inevitable result of using our powers."

He's very used to stoics. Her compassion is there, in her voice, and the information she's sharing, he needs no other overt sign. She'd held back too, and it had been for his own safety (and hers). He could respect that, and he was.

He listens, carefully, his own expression blank. He doesn't know Miria well enough to be angry for her, but he does know it would be demeaning if he was and showed it. She had no use for it, and thus, did not need it.

'Do you think you're a monster, or are you taught to believe you are one?'

Amused: "That's a complicated question, Kyle."

As dependent as it is on one's definition of monster.

"People like me are easily recognizable by our swords and our uniforms and our silver eyes and people are encouraged to fear us because we're not fully human. There are many subtle ways the Organization employed to keep us thinking ourselves as separate from humans. It's not easy to break free of that." Seven years away from the Organization helped.

"But yoma and Awakened Beings are driven by their hunger. You could say they have to kill: they have no choice. Half-yoma do have that choice. We can make our own decisions about whether or what we kill." Which is why the Organization had to use so many subtle tricks to keep them in line.

More thoughtfully, she continues: "I don't know if that is enough to protect us from the label 'monster,' however."

He knows, oh he knows. It's not so much definitions as context, and so far, everything about Miria suggests she's as human as he is, at the core. Funny how the people you expected to be most like you weren't, and those you didn't, were.

'It has a very simple answer. What do you do if you realise you cannot control your power, and will Awaken?'

The Organisation might have taught her something else, but he knew she was going to tell him the truth.

She sits and she looks at him for a few seconds, formulating her reply. Eventually she reaches behind her and pulls her sword out of the ground.

"We ask our comrades to end it while we still have control."

With her sword in hand, she unscrews the hilt and produces a rolled up black card, which she shows to him. It bears her individual symbol, the same as the sword and her clothing.

"If there are no comrades around and we feel our control slipping, we might nominate someone to send this card to, and hope she gets to us on time. But..."

She hesitates for the briefest moment, because there is a risk in telling him this.

"...it is possible to pull oneself back from the brink of Awakening. Even afterwards. But the effort involved is incredible."

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CW suicidal ideation, possession, fire

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CW: Suicide ideation. Again.