[devil's den] all saints day [n.z.]

Heavy breathing filled the small room covered in tatami mats. Amber eyes met narrowed amber and the opponents stared at each other from across the room. Neither moved forward, the only movement being  deep inhalations to catch their breaths from their most recent clash. Etain rolled her neck and her wrist, her body curled over to protect her abdomen which was surely bruised by now. Even though their weapons were just practices weapons, wood carried damage, especially the way she and her opponent were handling them. She should have brought a khopesh, the weapon she was most proficient with, but the point of all this training was to learn new techniques, not stay stuck in the same rut.

With a small smirk, Etain took a step forward before there was a sharp knock on the door. Frowning, she bade the person to come in, and rolled her eyes with a gentle smile on her face when when of the proprieter’s men came in baring a tray of refreshments. Apparently it was time for a break, and while usually she’d be arguing about the interruption, Antonio had pressed upon her the importance of respect in this establishment. She was used to the same at her own training spots, and would follow the guidelines. Apparently the big boss was a stickler for rules and respect, and above all things politeness. Why would she disrupt the peace of the local crime lord in his own domain? Snickering at the idea of the tattooed man (who'd she'd never met) at high tea with a ruffled collar, she turned her attention back to the room.

Cleaning and stowing away her weapons, she sat upon the floor, heavy braid flopping against her back. Light snacks, tea and a pot of coffee. She could smell the ginger from here, and beamed. When her sparring partner sat in front of her, she smirked at him. “When you said we were working on dodging, I thought we were talking about me.” Her eyes flicked to the bruise on Niska Zukov’s arm and she smirked broadly. Even though she felt aches and pains all over, it was a good pain. Nothing a good stretch wouldn’t take care of. Nothing that she’d regret. If she was a little masochistic, she'd gotten it good and proper from someone in her family tree.

She and Niska had an odd relationship. He’d thought she’d made her favourite cousin disappear, she’d thought he was fucking Amaranth. After their confusion had been cleared up, in each other, they’d found commonality. It’d been a jest, her challenging him to a spar, but over the months since Amaranth’s disappearance, it’d become almost routine. Hell, even Antonio met him, and they had interesting conversations. Etain still hadn’t convinced the older man to come to a dinner with her family, but she swore she was wearing him down. The 23 year old took a sip of her Turkish Coffee, finger tips dancing on the small cup.

“Tony found you a manuscript. Mesopotamian, I think. I don’t know where he gets these things, but…” She shrugged, trailing off. Hopefully the man would take the bait.

@Niska Zukov

Maybe he wasn’t getting so old after all.

Niska chuckled as he rolled back to his feet, popping back up as he felt the smooth mat slide under his toes. If he could keep up with a young warrior like Etain, maybe there was hope for him yet. He looked across the room at her, watching the way her golden magic swirled about her like a shimmering sand storm. If he squinted he might have sworn he was back in Egypt, laying on the dunes and staring up at the stars. It was a full body feeling, like he really was there. It was a special kind of magic that Etain had, and he always enjoyed seeing her, which was why he had invited her to spar with him today.

Ever since Niska had starting working with (and that was an important difference: with, not for) the bone man of Knockturn Alley, he had been coming to HQ to get back into shape. He turned down most of the wetwork these days, instead ending up teaching some of the youngsters how to fight. It would almost be a full year since Amaranth had gone missing, and he’d had enough time to mourn her loss. He would survive, like he always did. Coming back into the fold and getting to used to working his body again was refreshing. It wasn’t like he’d been slacking off too much before, but there was a difference between practicing for a casual bout and becoming a full-fledged fighter again. It took discipline and time, but luckily Nightmare HQ had the facilities and opponents to keep him sharp.

He had been surprised to find out that Antonio, one of the newer Punishers that Niska had started seeing around the Den, was married to Amaranth’s cousin. It was a strange world they lived in, alright. Etain was a nice girl. He wouldn’t go so far as to say she was delicate (all of these brand new bruises he was sporting were proof), but she wasn’t the type that Niska would have guessed would try and marry a rough fellow like Antonio. Well, to each their own. He didn’t have to use his magic to recognize that she was head over heels for her man. They had a kid together too, which Niska had to remind himself. Etain just seemed a bit young for that. The girl had plenty of options, why settle down so soon?

He was pulled from his thoughts when there was a knock on the door. A young guy, one of the ones Niska saw around all the time, came in carrying a tray of refreshments. Niska, who was getting more and more used to this kind of thing, nodded at the kid as he placed the tray on the floor in front of them. Etain sat down first, in her graceful yet deliberate way. Niska leaned his two wooden katana against the wall, both of his wrists aching. He then came back and sat down across from the Egyptian woman, his wrapped hands picking up the small little cup. “It’s been a while since I’ve used that two-handed style on another person, so I’m a little rusty. There isn’t anyone else here who can keep up with it usually.” He took a sip, watching her do the same before she spoke again. That piqued his interest.

“Yeah? I’d be interested to see it sometime. Add it to the collection. It’s mighty kind of your man to offer it to me, though I’m sure I’ll be paying for it.” He eyed her, smiling slightly. “He seems like a good fellow, Antonio. Doesn’t say much but I appreciate that in a man. Though, I guess I was a little bit surprised when I met him. He doesn’t really seem your type. You’re a fine woman and he’s a lot like me, and I'm definitely not suitable for a fine woman. I wonder what his secret is. Maybe there's hope for me yet.”

“I’ve never fought against an opponent who used two handed weapons.” She wrinkled her nose, peering up at her companion. “Most wizards don’t like to fight without depending on magic, and the inability to cast a spell while using two weapons is beyond them.” Etain rolled her eyes, and rolled her shoulders again. She would have to sit in the sauna for a while tonight, because everything in her back was tight. Maybe even a trip to the hot tub was due. “It’s interesting. We’ll have to do that again.” Sipping on her coffee, she snorted as Niska began to talk.

“It will cost you. Maybe not cash, but something in trade. He’ll probably want some enchanted tattooing machine, or something over the top artsy for his office. Or a dinner.” She snorted at his description of Antonio, even as she agreed. “He is a good man.” She remarked softly, brow arched. “I don’t know what Amaranth told you about me, but my father was the presumptive head of my family before his death.” A sneer covered her face at just the thought of her father. Davin had not been a good man. Hell, she wasn’t a good person, but he’d been beyond that. “He was a snake oil salesman, and charming, and those type of people make my skin crawl. I prefer loyalty and honesty over sophistication. My husband is rough, but at least he knows that he will die a painful death if he ever decided to have children outside of our marriage. Or cheat on me. He loves me, and I him.”

A mysterious smile covered her features as she gave Niska a look that dropped the barriers between her public persona and the person who killed with no remorse to protect her family. With a blink, she was back. “And again, I am not a just a society girl as the public sees. I have been a Regan all of my life, and I am an al-Busuri. What need have I for a partner who cannot handle that part of my life?” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. She poured them both refills of their respective drinks. “Please don’t tell me you just see that bit of me. That’d mean you’re getting old.” She pouted and teased all at the same time.

“I have a whole library full of manuscripts. If I knew that was what would get you into my house and possibly eat, I would have offered it to you before. We’re known to have guests traveling from far and wide to peruse through our archives…We even have an ancient weapons museum…” She dangled it in front of him like a prize. “All it takes is one dinner…”

Yeah. Women were a mysterious force, indeed. It had been a long time since he had met someone like Etain, who was both beautiful and deadly. Deadly women he had no shortage of. He could count on one hand the women he had met that hadn’t tried to kill or maim him at some point in their acquaintance. That was just the kind of world he lived in. But women like Etain were rare. She was a lady, a fine lady as he mentioned before, but there was a balance to be struck there. A deadly woman could kill you on the battlefield, a proper lady could defeat you in real life and not even smear her lipstick while doing so. Those were the women Niska was most afraid of.

At her comment about Tony dying a painful death, he cracked a wry smile. “I almost feel a little bad for the guy,” he said, leaning back on his arm and cracking his neck. There was some tightness in his shoulder too, probably from where she had hit him earlier. “A man’s got his pride, you know? Then again, if he gets to wake up with a wife like you and a job beating people up for the bone man, maybe he should be the one feeling sorry for me.”

Niska drained his cup and stood up, shaking out his legs and stretching his shoulders as he picked up one the swords again. He raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a very stern look. “Now, don’t you go temping me with any weapons museums, little miss. You know I can’t resist that. It’s a disease and you’re taking right advantage of it.” He said it with a smile, lifting the sword and holding it straight out at the wall. He adjusted his grip, watching his elbow bend upwards just a little bit. Etain might have fractured that one just a hair. That or the bone still hadn’t grown back properly after Cassia had broken it last month. He shook his head, the women in his life were way too dangerous.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, looking back at her. “I go to dinner with you and Tony and the little one, and you let me in to see that museum of yours? Sounds like a good way to spend a couple hours, I’ll give you that.” A smirk crossed his split lip. “But if I go to the museum, I’m going to need a tour guide to show it to me properly, and I won’t take anything less than the best. No portly old man spewing facts at me while I fall asleep.” He tapped the tip of the sword against the floor in front of her. “It’s gotta be you.”