Owner	Pose
Lady Shiva	Whispers had been heard. Hints of something happening in a town called Sunnydale and the goings on with gods and monsters. Of portals and battles.     It was all stories, of course. Such things don't happen without ending up in the news. Though, there were some videos on youtube but they were grainy and useless to gain real information. If something happened, someone was keeping it hush-hush.     Word was sent to the man John Aaron. A request to meet at their usual place, the dojo that is their place. It is where they meet. His home is his place with his son. It is not a place for her to visit. Not that he has forbidden it. It is an unspoken thing, her line of respect for him to not cross over into that realm.     He is not part of her home, not that she truly has one. Where she rests her head outside of this dojo. That is her private place. He doesn't go there although he likely could find it if he chose. Just as she could find his.     She is already there in the dojo, kneeling on the mats with her hands resting on her thighs. Her eyes are closed as she meditates, letting her mind relax, focusing beyond the things she has been dealing with and seeking peace.
Ares	When the word had come to him he had made the needed changes to the plans of his life. A shift changed, a call to another to cover, and then his brow furrows in a moment of concentration. With the passing of Phobos, with the Olympians all knowing where he lives, who he is, what he has done... there truly was no need to hide anymore, no reason to keep his abilities contained save perhaps to keep others from noticing them. But most worries have been resolved, what has happened happened.     It is but a momentary shift, a whorling of imagery, with reality seeming to compress and twist, then swirl around him and brings him...     There, at the base of the stairs to their shared space. It is where those who dare pass the threshold remove their shoes, which he does slowly, unlacing with a certain formal aspect to those movements and to the setting aside of the footwear.     Then he ascends the steps, movement quiet though she assuredly is aware of his presence the moment he moves up to the landing and then draws the door aside.     And there she is, in her deadly beauty with her silhouette obscured by the dim light and the dark cloth that clings to her athletic form. He turns around to close the door with a faint scrape of wood upon wood, then steps into the room. Three strides is all it takes, and he is before her, his head tilted to the side inquisitively.
Lady Shiva	The shift in the air is felt as the door opens, the scraping of wood loud in the quiet of the room. His footfalls would be silent to most but to her they thunder with each step. Three then he is there. His blazing light shining through, his essence so strong she is certain she can feel heat from it. It is what draw her to him from the first. It is what brings her back to him. That is what she wishes to reach, that ultimate peak. She is feeling no closer than she was on their last meeting. Or the time before. Yet, she has learned from him. She has gained knowledge in forms that were ancient long ago. It was added to her own skills, improving her as an artist.     For long moments, she remains quiet. Her lashes are long enough to cast shadows on her cheeks. Then her eyelids slide upward, lashes parting to reveal dark eyes. She looks upwards, to his face. Her eyes meet his. For him, she will smile. A soft expression so at odds with what he knows she is.     "Thank you for coming," she says as she shifts, rising to her feet before him though she still has to look up to his eyes. "I...missed you." She sounds surprised.
Ares	His answer is a small smile at the corner of his mouth and he lowers his eyes somewhat in acknowledgement before he tells her quietly, "I enjoy each moment we spend together." His smile grows, perhaps turning towards the wry as he adds, "Even when we are testing each other, and trying to overcome each other's abilities."     But John's brow furrows as he looks down to her, and then he adds calmly, "You are ill at ease," He declares, for they know each other well enough that he can read those small tell-tale hints in the way she stands, the inflection in her words, the way her eyes hold his. With an openness he tells her, "Much has passed for me, but what has passed for you?"     As he says this he turns his hips to the side and unfolds one hand, just enough of a change of stance that she can read in him that he is ready if she wishes to strike, if she wishes to speak to him without the obstacle of words between such artists as they are.
Lady Shiva	In a rare moment, she speaks openly. Her answer is a single word but speaks volumes.     "Nothing."     Nothing has passed for her. Nothing has changed. The world continues as it always has. She has continued to seek and she has found that single thing which is naught. Her meditation allowed her to recognize that reality. There is no more growth. There has been no more to learn from those she's sought since their last visit. Fewer and fewer who have anything new to share.     What he has, she must attain. But she is unsure now if it is even possible.     Then she moves, driving fast and hard. No reservation, no holding back. This is no testing. No learning one another. This is an all out attack. She seeks his death as surely as she's sought learning in the past. A flurry of punches and kicks, rapidfire, moving from one style to the next in a deadly dance without hesitation. His skills equal hers so there is no reason to hold back. Then the strike comes, aimed to the center of his chest with the heel of her palm, with a loud 'KIYAAA' as she focuses every bit of her chi into that blow. It is a delayed death-blow. One she has known but she has avoided using such in their sparring in the past. If he does not stop her from making contact, he will be dead twenty seconds later.
Ares	It has been thus between them several times in the past. Their first meeting, perhaps a moment of perceived weakness, perhaps a time when either of them sought to instill that sense of urgency in the other as if to infuse their lives with the very needed thrill of such a life. Each time they have clashed it always ended with no clear winner, with the moment broken before one or the other could finish matters...     But now there is no reason anything should interrupt them. There is no reason that this dance would not be their final one. As fast as she is, as well as she can read another, his own awareness matches hers and his eyes narrow into that utter focus she has seen in him in the past.     She darts forwards and is on him, her bare feet barely making a sound upon the hard wood floor. Her limbs lash out, a swirling kick, a spinning fist, a wickedly aimed knee all seeking to batter and break and destroy anything placed in their way.     And as she surges he is the wave that subtly bends the reed away. His forearm coming up and around in a smooth circle to brush a strike away and trap that arm, only to release as her elbow slashes towards his face. She is pushed on her way with a flattened hand to the back of her arm and then she uses that momentum to twist into him with a wild kick.     Crossed arms accept the strength of that kick and sends him sliding back upon the ground, when he can feel her strength channeling, her focus drawing together she will feel his surging to meet. And as she uncoils with that powerful strength, her palm heel strike crashing at the center of his ribcage he roars as well, the very same strike lashing out at her in the same moment as he shouts, "SEIYI!" His other fist held back to block, to accept the attack.     Yet it is a perfect parity, perfect intensity. And it /forces/ on her the choice. Either they both join each other in death, the strikes landing... twenty seconds spent together of utter honesty before they fall in each other's arms and pass to the next life...     Or she can choose to have them both live.
Lady Shiva	For those seconds that they move with one another, precise, beautiful, deadly, she feels alive. Her blood rushes through her body. Her lungs hold in the oxygen, using it to power her muscles. Her chi is a beacon around her battling with his own. This is what she lives for. The knowledge that everything could end in an instant. It is a freedom which she has reveled in.     She allows herself that joy. Allows herself that moment of happiness as their bodies strike, meet, clash. A brush, a strike. Close then away.     And that is the moment she made her choice.     The blow is coming. She can see the pinpoint focus of his chi even as her own is focused to his chest. With their combined cries filling the small room, her palm strikes.     His own hits hers in that exact same moment.     She feels the impact itself. A thunderous blow of strength that doesn't send her backwards as it should. Instead, there is a ripple of energy behind it that goes into the muscles beneath, deep within to the heart itself which is now pierced with the pure chi of the two combatants.     She doesn't move. Her hand remains where it is but the fingers curl, her muscles relax. She holds her palm flat over his heartbeat. Feeling it thud as she begins to count the seconds.     As her eyes meet his again, she smiles softly.
Ares	The tall man's brown eyes close faintly, and then as the seconds pass between them he takes a step forward, one arm taking her into his embrace. Then quietly, a soft whisper to her even as that first pain lances through his spine, his eyes hazing with a subtle shadow of the darkness that dares encroach. "If it must be now, there is no other I would have strike true."     He pulls her close and still their hearts beat in unison, for such has always been their way. His eyes meet hers and there is a small sadness seen there, remorse. She'll feel his hand drift up to gently cradle the back of her head as they both slowly fall to their knees together.     His lips find hers, just a gentle kiss, a ghost of what they have shared. Then he draws back and holds her eyes and says quietly, "But there is still such to learn, Sandra." And then she will feel a faint pressure along the supple curve of her neck, a soft tension as his fingers find the point of pressure just where her skull joins her spine and he pinches...     And suddenly that spectre of his death blow haunts her no longer. A blow that has been fabled to be irreversible... has a secret to its end. It might be a moment of surprise, utter surprise that such a truth has been hidden from her. And then he smiles faintly into her eyes, even as a bubble of blood breaks from between his lips.
Lady Shiva	In truth, she had not wished to take him with her. She had considered stopping her blow but that was not their way. They were honest with one another to the end and to take her death without giving her best in the process would have be the gravest insult she could give him. Such is the way her mind works.     On her knees, feeling the pain spreading, feeling those moments ticking by, she hears his words and she wonders at them. For she is certan he is wrong. Until his touch.     The darkness recedes, the pain fades, the air fills her lungs once again.     It isn't possible. There is no recovery. She has learned this from more than one master and yet, her death has now been denied her. By him. The pinnacle of light. The thing she had hoped to find a way to become and instead, she had destroyed him with her own wish for death.     "No," she whispers, seeing the blood sliding down from his lips to his chin. Her hand moves to the back of his neck as she presses against him. Her ability to learn from a single experience is drawn upon as her fingers find that place. She brings her lips to his, not caring that his blood will be shared with her. It's not the first time she has had that coppery taste upon her tongue.     Her fingers slide to that spot. She pinches in the exact same way he had in the hopes of keeping his light from fading.
Ares	The moment passes, his heart beat is missed. There is but the thundering of her own. The time lingers and she will not feel his breath even as she brings her lips to his, just the dull copper tang of death such as she has wrought so many times before.     But then his lungs fill, his breath drawn in sharply as she feels that hammer of his heart starting with a rough quiver that has him weak in her arms and would see him collapsing were it not for her touch holding him.     The kiss is returned, slowly, hesitantly, and then giving fully. Another breath is drawn and then he whispers to her, "Don't do that again... ever."     And then they draw back to see each other's eyes and he smiles very faintly... very gently.