tampered | log; complete;

log; complete;

When; Today, afternoon/evening!
Rating; PG? PG-13? Whatever the rating is for possible language.
Characters; Astaroth Aslan [

kievduchess]; Esther Blanchett [

lefeufollet]
Summary; Training begins.
Log;

The sun was just beginning to set as Esther reached the entrance to the Underground of the City, a pistol strapped to her thigh and a shotgun slung over her back, starkly contrasting with the clean, white color of her habit--it was enough to draw more than a few glances to her as she hurried through the busier areas of the City. Fortunately, Esther didn't have all that much time to be self-conscious, mind preoccupied with thoughts of the new arrival to the City, and of the task ahead of her, training with the Duchess of Kiev.

In the long run, of course, Esther wasn't sure what good physical training would really do in terms of helping Father Abel. The Crusnik, from what Esther had personally witnessed, were far more powerful than a mere human could ever hope to be, and without a conniving spirit like Dietrich's, without a strong battle instinct, Esther probably wouldn't even be able to land a scratch on Cain. Not to mention that the City's dynamics were such that causing damage wouldn't serve her any purpose, given that people came back in the City. Came back from the dead.

It wasn't right. It made the blood which stained her hands less weighty. Less permanent.

But perhaps the training was more to fortify her mind, than anything else. That was an area in which Esther certainly looked up to Astaroth; the latter always seemed so strong-willed, never gave up on a goal until it had been completed. Whereas Esther, well. She'd been tempted to do just the opposite a fair number of times since she'd arrived.

Hopefully, spending time with Astaroth would change that. Esther smiled to herself, remembering some of the duchess' words. If what she said about them being similar was true... maybe Esther had hope, yet.

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Training was not something that Astaroth thought she needed more of. No, she had no doubts in her abilities. At least, that was how she presented herself. Proud, confidant, she was a prime example of her race, a noble boiar of Tara Methuselah and nothing less. At least, that is what the presentation bore.

But the Duchess of Kiev knew she had limits. Her visit to the Outer, three years hence now, her battles against the radicals within the Empire, and then her struggles here had taught her more than anything that she had limits, that Methuselah were not the highest race. No. She didn't think like that anymore.

"Sister Blanchett." Her voice was cool, like the twilight that now enveloped the city and allowed her to leave the safety of the apartment she shared with Mirka Fortuna and her grandson. They needed her protection, and Abel needed her to watch her back, and this girl needed her to do that same job herself. Trust in me, she remembered, this was never a burden you placed upon me.

"Prompt." The noblewoman smiled, the heels of her tall boots clicking against stone when she stopped, the butt of her spear accompanying with the sound of metal on rock.

"Good."

With the help of the heels, Astaroth was very nearly the same height as Father Abel, and with a radiant flush on her cheeks Esther took care to bow her head respectfully, her grip on the strap of her shotgun tightening from the anticipation. Only Astaroth could make a compliment sound almost threatening, Esther was pretty sure, and for a moment she wondered what the greeting would have been like had Esther failed to arrive promptly, and on time.

Maybe it was better if she didn't let her mind linger too much on such thoughts.

"Duchess," Esther waved, with a small smile. She could feel her heart racing; the last time she'd been Underground wasn't all that pleasant, and she hoped that this experience would change her impression of the place. "Thank you so much for training me, once again."

"There is no need to thank me, Sister." Astaroth assured, her spear finding a resting place on her shoulder, along with a confidant smile.

"We are here for a purpose." Her heels clicked steadily on the stone floor, not bothering to avoid much or grime. She was pristine among the dark surroundings. Her ivory hair had been cropped short when she first arrived, but it had grown out a bit in this City, brushing the nape of her neck, but still that vibrant crimson streak across her brow.

"And that purpose is to improve." A smirk over her shoulder, proud. The Methuselah had no doubt that she could handle anything they ran in to, but she would allow the nun to show her merit before she stepped in.

"And we will, of course," There was no room for doubt, "Achieve said purpose."

Esther didn't particularly care to preserve the state of her clothes either, although she allowed herself a flinch or two when the heel of her boot seemed to sink into something soft or unidentified. There was something so sure in Astaroth's gait, and Esther did her best to mimic it, straightening her shoulders and lengthening her stride, although it cost her a slight stumble here and there.

Not to mention that, in order to keep up with the duchess in the first place, Esther had to walk doubly fast. The positive side effect of that being, of course, that she had less time to dwell on other things, had to focus on the here and now, couldn't spend her entire time worrying about Abel and the things that Abel was bound to get himself involved with.

"Yes," Esther replied, voice exhibiting only the slightest trace of wavering, of doubt. "We will improve. I will follow your guidance, Duchess, without fail. I may need a significant amount of help, though, and for that, I will turn to you."

No more apologies.

The Methuselah allowed herself a moment to smile at Esther's gait, but didn't slow or curt hers. That was for the best, that she was always striving to better herself. A commendable way of thinking.

A final nod signaled her approval of the way the petite nun phrased her next words. There. Conviction without doubt, Aid without weakness. That was what she was aiming for.

Astaroth did not speak further because there was no need to speak. They both knew what they were there for, and idle conversation on a mission, when surviving, could get you killed, and despite her own confidence, Astaroth was setting an example, her long stride carrying them deeper into the Underground until her keen hearing caught a noise and she slowed her pace, waiting for the girl next to hear to notice on her own, test her senses.

Unfortunately, the stall in the speed didn't exactly serve its intended purpose; while Esther knew that something must have been wrong for Astaroth to have slowed down, it was this change of pattern that called Esther's attention, and not the target itself. Still, she reached over to her back and pulled her shotgun down, more than tempted to turn around, but knowing full well that staying in one spot would help her better notice movement.

Perhaps the noises were the most confusing, occasional chatter and rustling coming from many sides. Esther didn't want to hit any other passerby who didn't intend any harm.

But a sudden hiss from her right and Esther began to unleash her bullets, the recoil drawing a yelp from her as she tried her best to get a handle on the shotgun, her aim improving quickly with time.

If she could not hear as keenly as a Methuselah, she supposed she at least knew how to read simple cues. Despite her interactions with the other girl, she had never actually fought beside her in battle long enough to fully asses her skill, and so she would now.

Astaroth moved gracefully, out of the way of the lumbering beast they had stirred, sharp eyes picking out the creature's shape, the thick scales that would prove troublesome to the nun's bullets, claws, teeth, and tail, along with the bulky shape and ungainly gait. Such an ugly beast.

"I can trust this one to you, no, Sister Blanchett?" She spoke calmly despite the sudden movements, her spear in her hand, cautious without worry.

"Y-yeah, I think so!" Esther squealed, closing her eyes despite herself before shooting several bullets in the general direction of the beast, the shots sharp and fast. The thick hide was stubborn, held up well against the bullets, and after several seconds with only marginal success, Esther chanced opening her eyes once more; it had gotten much closer, and--

"Ohfatherinheavendon'tdothistomeeeeee--"

--somehow, among the many shots that Esther took, one finally managed to lodge itself in the beast's forehead, a low cry slipping from between its teeth before it fell back, shaking the ground beneath it.

Esther panted nervously, clambering back, shotgun still shakily pointed at the corpse; was it luck? Maybe it was luck. Her shots hadn't really been that directed, from what she could remember. It all happened too fast.

"Don't let your enemy out of your sight!" Astaroth's heels hit the stone, resounding, before she leaped over the beast's back, spear glinting briefly in the spare light of the Underground's failing lighting, landing just as lightly behind the creature, ready to distract it or take it out should it prove the better of the nun.

"Eyes open!" Her voice rang out clear, standing tall as she observed the fight through brassy, bright, eyes.

She watched the beast flounder, and crash to the floor, waiting a few moment as the beast began to still. But she saw a tell-tale twitching in it's tail, and her teeth were revealed when she snarled a little, walking around it back towards the nun.

"Panic is your enemy in a fight, Sister Blanchett. If you panic, your enemy will win. If you lose control of yourself, you cannot hope to control another." Pointing with her weapon, the Methuselah singled out the rousing monster.

"And we always finish our kills."

Awed, Esther watched as the lumbering beast fell to the ground once more, silent this time, without any trace of movement or life. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, squatting for a brief moment to gulp down air, before remembering that they were in the Underground, and resting when there could have still been enemies about was too risky. Standing straight as a board, Esther continued trying to catch her breath, while her shotgun was still held up, pointed into the darkness.

"I apologize, Duchess. My aim needs improvement still..."

Her brows furrowed as Esther's finger toyed with the trigger. How would she dare, then, against someone with thick armor that could withstand bullets? Even should her aim ring true...

"I assure you, your aim would improve substantially by keeping your eyes open when you shot." Astaroth kept her weapon leveled at the slowly rousing beasts' head, in case she needed to be the one to finish it off in the end.

"Now," She waited for the nun to analyze, to look for her options. The methuselah eyed the creature, noting the places for a good shot. The eyes, beady little things, or the underarms of the many legs, or more deadly, the sides of the jaw behind the skull, where tough hide was replaced with stretching leathery skin.

"You need to finish your enemy, Sister. Or they will come back one day to finish you."

"How-- how are you able to tell when these things are dead?" Esther exclaimed, taking Astaroth's advice and keeping her eyes wide open, feeling the tears pool in her eyes before she began aiming again. She hadn't expected the beast to rise again, not when she'd already wasted several rounds of bullets on the thing. Of course, Esther had more than enough experience to know that a headshot of some sort would probably be the most effective, but when even the face of the beast was covered in steely scales, it was hard to tell where a bullet would even make its way through.

Then Esther noticed its red eyes, roving, looking around before locking on her, and biting down hard on her lip, Esther raised the gun and kept both eyes open, trying to point it towards that small speck of color.

And shot another round, until she needed to load the gun once more.

"I know." Her smile let the sharp edges of her teeth frame against her lips. "You will learn."

It was cruel to some, perhaps, that Astaroth would demand a kill. Perhaps it could be said it was too much, to force someone, a nun, no less, to kill another being. But Astaroth was not a cruel person, she was a proud person, and she did all her work thoroughly and made sure it was something she, and anyone she took under her wing, could be proud of. Enemies that were not killed or taken care of would come back, and this beast was not something that would be stopped by anything short of death, not to mention perhaps it was even crueler to leave it to die slowly in the dark.

"There." The Methuselah sidestepped a burst of tissue from the beasts' eye, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You've finished it." Brassy eyes watched the Terran for emotions, cues, careful not to try and push too far.

It certainly wasn't the first time Esther had killed, and the act of killing alone wasn't quite enough to set the nun back in the way it might have for most of her peers. She'd watched Abel take up the proverbial sword many times without batting an eye. As much as Esther might have liked to preach against violence--a little questionable in of itself--there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that there were situations that she was frequently presented with which required action. Required picking up a weapon and taking the initiative to get the first hit in.

She did no one any good dead.

Of course, killing wasn't exactly enjoyable, and it was certainly something to be avoided if possible. Esther approached the dead beast, a slight tightness in her chest as she wondered--would there have been any way around killing it? Probably not.

The shotgun was momentarily returned to her back as she brushed the scaly hide with her fingers.

Probably no other way, from what she would tell.

"Seems like it," Esther nodded. "Are we to venture further into the Underground, Duchess?"

Astaroth looked up, into the dark, seemingly infinite ceiling in this part of the Underground. Night vision was no problem for her, and she could see in to that darkness.

"We'll end here today." She had kept track of the time, and did not wish to leave the Fortunas alone long, though she would never admit it, how afraid she was for their wellbeing now, in this place. Of course, they were Methuselah, much stronger than a normal human, but- Mirka Fortuna was not a fighter, and her grandson was still young and inexperienced in most areas.

"We will continue in the future, however." There was absolutely no room for disagreement in her voice.

After hearing Astaroth's words, Esther let out a small sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing as she got to her feet, feeling much more energized, somehow. No longer running on that last bit of adrenaline, at any rate. Of course, she wouldn't relax completely, not when she could hardly see a few feet in front of her, and so Esther's hand reached behind to her back again, resting on the trigger of her shotgun, ready to pull it out if any suspicious noises approached.

"Of course," Esther nodded. "After that kind of performance... I'm quite certain that that was only the beginning, for me."

She grinned in what she hoped was Astaroth's direction.

"But I'm looking forward to more."

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