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[CrimsonMoon]

Xena hangs back and watches, wishing she could join in the drills as she rubs the swan pendant. Her blue hair whipping over her face as the wind snapped across te clearing. She frowns and murmurs softly,"... The tactics are out dates by a few centuries... But beautiful..."

[Light]

"My brother favors the older forms of combat." She whistfully explains, "To the people of Inari, hand to hand combat is a art. We spend several days of our childhood learning at least one, even the women."

The red head in the field laughs as he deflects, beams as one manages to hit him--a whirlwind of expressions one after another. He kept every movement trained, and as Kitto said, it looked like an art.

[CrimsonMoon]

"... Art huh?" She murmurs and closes her eyes," War is considered a last resort, not an art. Soldiers in out society are prized and treated wonderfully... Pilots are nearly royalty and royalty... Gods," she whispers and stares at him,"... I'll fight him... Show him the 'Art' of western war."

[Light]

Kitto looks at Xena, her eyes saddened, "You will be greatly disappointed then, with how he reacts." She fans herself softly and starts towards a group of chairs. "We are not you. We never will be."

[CrimsonMoon]

"... So is he not your version of an artist? I suppose sparring isnt an art either..." She sighs

[Light]

"It is training, nothing more little pale fox," she sings over her shoulder, "If you want him to take you seriously, to see if he is indeed your king, give him a reason to." Amusement laces her voice.

[CrimsonMoon]

" Like what...? Are you trying to say i should do a form?" She sighs, running a hand through her hair

[Light]

She lowers her fan slowly, "My darling brother is sadly straight minded. If you think you'll get what you want from a fight, then do it. But I suggest... You see what makes them follow him so faithfully."

[CrimsonMoon]

Xena doesnt answer but watches in silence before muttering,"... Would it be alright to train with them?"

[Light]

"You are Xena. Your first and only gender." She quotes, "Go. I'll watch."

[CrimsonMoon]

" I meant women in ge-... Never mind," she sighs and waks toward the stone steps to the training yards, their tactics were by far inferior... She could just inagine how she could rolls them over.. On her olanet, soldiers were few but trained as elites, they had an army of over three billion elite 'soldiers' but then came the Mech pilots who were trained as te best of the best and then the royals... They were the elite of the elite of the elite... And she was at the peak of that social pyramid.. She starts to walk toward his training soldiers, painfuly aware of how her kimono stuck out like a beautiful deformity

[Light]

Men glance at her, and Kibō barks in his native tongue at the distracted few in the circle that had turned to look at her. His hair stuck to his forehead and back, sweat dripping from him from hours of exhaustion. He looks over her passively, his eyes focusing on the man before him that had begun to charge.

No special treatment. If she wanted to train with them, then she would have to do so like every other being on the field.

Kitto looks from her chair, fanning herself slowly, "Ah... It's such a hot summer day..." She mumbles, "I hope he's drunk enough water..."

[CrimsonMoon]

She smiles faintly, silently thanking him and taking anposition behind a soldier, watching him curiously

[Light]

He exhales from his mouth, spreading his feet apart. His arms lifted up, palms upwards, in a balancing like stance. Another man charged at him, and somehow, whether it was quick reflexes or a fault on the attacker, the man was suddenly flipped onto his side with just a deflected kick and a twist of his leg.

Kibō remained still, his feet not moving an inch as he kept his open stance with each man that continued to charge at him. He looked like a bird, straightened up to provoke and defend himself. He finally lands his gaze on her, calmly gazing at her as he waits.

[CrimsonMoon]

She smiles faintly at him, going as rigid as could be. She took a step foreward, it was mechanical and her limbs moved as if she was a wind up toy, unconcious causing his eyes to follow her jerking movements... And suddenly her palm had struck the middle of his chest, lightly, as if playfully patting him

[Light]

He bent and swayed with her strike, the movement like a tree. His knees bend slightly, the stance dropping. Aiming a palm at her stomach, his body stayed twisted to the side in a rope-walking position.

[CrimsonMoon]

Her body twists back like a snake, his strike managing only to pat her shoulder lightly before she once moresteps toward him at a 45 degree angle, aiming one hand toward his shoulder and the other to his gut. It wasn't hard to see that all her stances and strikes were based on a few simple angles: 10, 45, 90, 180 and 360... It was like a giant calculatory circle..

[Light]

His bare toes dig into the earth, suddenly jerking to life in a rapid movement. Unlike her calculated strikes, his were completely random, his stance disappearing as multiple kinds blue together to counter hers in some random way. It was like he was drunk; the way he moved, the way he gazed at the air with a blank expression. He didn't hit back though, just countering or dodging.

[CrimsonMoon]

She cant help but smile, dancing around him in the perfect circle, trying to strike but not really... As if she was just dancing...

[Light]

His hair whips wildly as he twists and turns. The men remained quiet, as did Kibō. He was watching each move she made, as he did with every other person before her, like she was another student that he was grading, and preparing to tell how they can improve.

Nothing special--just pushing her, and himself. He seemed to have taken a large toll earlier already, but took this one in stride like one would an extra bite of food.