[open] never meant to start a fire

[lowtohigh]

It could have ended a few different ways. Nearly all of them would have been a victory. Only one or two of them would have been this.

Eileen had almost assented to chess, this first go around. She had contemplated the odds of staying in place unchallenged long with an initial foray based solely on mental agility, just as much as she had contemplated wandering across traditional Suit lines toward something like throwing daggers or poker. It had all ultimately fallen away, leaving her with just the one choice.

Her biological father's first challenge had been a knife fight, Tobias told her once.

Scherma fights haven't been particularly vogue in the Clubs since the late 1980s, but it isn't difficult to find a Four willing to take her up on it. (The Threes had all been wary. Most of them were young enough to have had an otherworldly sense about her their entire lives--or to simply be petrified of the concept of the King's daughter Challenging them at all.) Sergiu Somma is of the slightly older guard, after all. He's also more than a head and shoulders above her; already not bad odds for a weapon that relies so much reach.

She doesn't ask for a big crowd. Rachel and Elisha are quietly invited, of course, with the grim sort of determination that's been settling into Eileen's features more firmly every day for the last year. Kevin is asked to be a referee. Her uncles are informed, almost in passing, certainly without any proper intention that they'll actually find the time (or allow her cousins to attend). It's mentioned exactly once without a proper date or information to Ethan and Elani. It's assumed that Julien will appear if he wants to.

It's a delicate dance to tell Leigh and Jake it's happening. There's a stumbling rush with both to explain they don't need to come, and that she'll tell them all about it after; and that this is the way things just have to be.

Eileen still likes to wear her hair fairly long, but it's pulled up tight today in the sort of bun that makes the eyes water slightly. She still likes to wear skirts and pastels, but today her slacks are long and everything's black, apart from the pink ribbon winding her hair so tightly to her head. (Her mother would say the crease in her brow is her father all over, but her mother isn't here to take note of it.)

Somma looks as unconcerned as ever when they take the small pitch. Eileen looks as much like a quiet mask as she has in years.

The points of the stiletto knives are slightly blunted, the ends dipped in rather neon paint to catch where the point would have burrowed into flesh from a proper hit. It's meant to be as calm and civilized as this sort of thing can get--first to five touches, no actual blood.

And of the many ways it could have ended, most of them would have stuck to that ambition.

The first point goes to Somma; a sharp jab at her shoulder where she loses her footing just slightly in balzo. Her own first point follows quickly, blade twisting around abruptly in her hand into a pakal grip for what would have been a deep wound just above Somma's hip. Her next point is imperfect; glancing against the ribs as she barely ducks below his own swing down toward her shoulder. His next follows quickly as he catches her tempo and his blade catches her arm.

And it's just a little too hard, apparently, because the blunted tip doesn't prevent the fact that the lime green streak marking his point is slashed through with a thin line of blood.

A piece of her knows that it could have been fine. A piece of her admits that it could still have been a civilized bout the rest of the way up to five. But something in her (something Spade, people might say; something survivalist, something purely angry) won't let that be the case.

She barely waits for the next whistle before she leaps in, catching a point against Somma's other hip. Her silence gives way to a snarl when he anticipates her next feint and his blade catches her wrist as her own finds his ribs. There's a certain severity to the silence between them as Kevin hesitates, exhales, and finally blasts what seems as if it might be the final whistle.

Of the one or two ways it could have gone wrong, this one feels easier to live with.

Because this one neither of them see coming, even as Eileen evades Somma's first broad slash, even as his wrist catches hers briefly like an odd sort of parry, even as she ducks again to slip past his next offensive strike. Neither of them expect it when they briefly step back into a careful circling; neither of them know it will happen when she makes her dart forward.

It's smooth and elegant as she feints left, drawing a fluid forward strike from him. It's graceful as she leaps nearly even with him, blade twisting again in her hand as she swings it down at his back. And it's brutal and ugly that the way she plunges the knife bounces just wrong off the bone of his hip, snapping the blade slightly and letting the momentum of her strike dig the proper broken edge deep into his side. Instinct takes over the minute she feels the give of flesh, and the sharp twist she gives pulls an anguished shout from Somma's lips.

The whistle sounds distant as she wrenches herself from the pitch. She hears Kevin somewhere distant telling her it's all right now. She senses the damp towel thrust into her hands, fingers moving mechanically to handle the blood she hadn't realized was there.

It isn't such a big thing, in the grand scheme. It's a pretty good scratch, Somma chuckles as he shakes her newly-clean hand (and it's such an odd sensation, two damp and sterile hands briefly clutching together). It's probably not going to kill anyone, a medic reassures as he begins hustling Somma toward the surgery. It isn't death. It isn't a terrible accident. It's just that it is enough to leave an odd taste in her mouth while she wonders why it isn't such a terrible thing that it should have been nothing and now it's stitching up a few organs.

Her feet find Elisha first. There's no help for it. Rachel will be next.

Despite that, there won't be words quite ready when she goes to find Jake. It feels a bit like searching for an apology she isn't sure is necessary and feels fairly certain won't actually come.

Comments

[thecutdiamond]

Argine isn't here to note the familiarity in the crease in Eileen's brow, so Rachel notes it for her. Edgar isn't here to be proud of the fight in his little girl, so Rachel is for him.

Andrew isn't here to soothe her nerves, so Rachel is the one to step forward, arms open in offer for a hug.

"All right, little one?"

I AM HERE. HELLO. (Emperor is in his traditional spot of laying on my wrist)

[cipherspeak]

Knife fighting had been the challenge that had earned him the rank of Ten; something Elisha , had, in retrospect, only gone after for the sake of the girl in front of him. At the time he'd claimed it had been because he needed to do something in the wake of the tragedy. He'd claimed more privately, to close friends, that it was because he hadn't trusted Alexander. Both of those things were true.

But really, it had been for the girl in front of him.

He knows better than to reassure her that Somma will be alright. She knows that. That's not what's got that look in her eyes. It's hard the first time you hurt someone. It's harder the first time you intended to.

Instead, he reaches up and loosens the pink silk ribbon a little. "That's going to give you a headache if you keep it pulled back too long, princess."

Not at the challenge obviously. But later.

[headfollowheart]

News always travels quickly across the Deck. There have likely been a large number of people peeking into see the former Ace, now a Four. Zoë Fox comes later. She's left Talulla at Spade Castle to be spoiled either by her father or Declán, and she's walked to Club Castle for a visit.

Zoë pauses in the doorway of the reading room Eileen likes at the Club Library, one hand pressing gently against her lower back - Talulla's upcoming little brother isn't as active as she was, but pregnancy is still no picnic, and sometimes her glowing expectant mother mask slips a bit.

"I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Four," she says when Eileen looks up. The glowing expectant mother bit is back. It looks more genuine for once, thanks to to real smile.

[wilderhearts]

Jake wasn't really sure what to expect from this, Eileen's Challenge. Although two years older than the former Ace, he'd never bothered to Challenge in his own Suit; as long as he had his horses and his few good friends, all was right in Jake's world. Not Deck-born, he'd never associated Challenging with status, not the way others seemed to.

But he did understand that a Challenge was definitely a Big Deal, and when Eileen had stammered that hers was coming up, Jake had nodded quietly, then nodded a bit slower when she all but insisted that he didn't have to come if he didn't want. Which meant that she did really want him to come--he'd learned a few nuances of Eileen-Speak over the years.

So he arrived just as the first whistle blew, making him flinch just a bit at the harsh, loud noise. But it didn't take him long to find an unobtrusive, relatively hidden spot from which to watch, feeling a bit of a lump rising in his throat to see his girlfriend so focused on the enemy? in front of her, and noting with more than a bit of trepidation how expertly she handled those knives in her small hands.

Afterwards, when she'd won and others had approached to congratulate or comfort--he wasn't entirely sure--Jake hung back, not really sure what he was supposed to do now. He wanted to say something, to let her know she'd done well or something, but he just couldn't get the image of the look upon her face as she...hunted, that was the only word he had for it, her adversary in the Challenge ring. It was a look he really hoped he'd never see on her face again.

Ever.

oops

[alwaysmessedup]

He wasn't at the Challenge. But he's heard enough about it by the time he crosses paths with Eileen a couple of days later. Which is why he makes such a show of looking her all over and up and down when he sees her. Quite intently, in fact.

and this, but elani definitely did up her hair beforehand

[theacethatmatters]

Julien was at the Challenge, but he hadn't moved down to speak to Eileen after it was over. Had in fact, done whatever necessary to make his presence as little-felt as he could. It was entirely possible that the only person there particularly aware of the Spade's presence was Elisha.

But his appearance the next day likely isn't much of a surprise. "He pricked you, didn't he?"

Congratulations on the win are implicit. He's here, isn't he?

room for one more?

[cutslikeaspade]

Surely she didn't believe he wouldn't find out. And since it was family--such as family was these days--Ethan had of course attended the Challenge and watched as Eileen proved her mettle. He naturally noted the smooth way her small hands held the blades, the firm concentration across her young face, and he even spied something even more hauntingly familiar emerge when Somma barked in pain from that particular strike. Like recognized like, after all. Unfortunately, Ethan couldn't remain and offer the customary congratulations; his office beckoned at all bloody hours of the blasted day. But the following morning, he deliberately left his door open and made a point to be comfortably ensconced behind his desk updating paperwork he'd been putting off for weeks...just in case a certain visitor might decide to stop by for a bit.