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Daggers of the Mind [Darkangel76 & Slairlayh]

Riddick almost purred to the feel of her hand on his cheek, his eyes turning away from her smile so he could savor her touch in darkness. His hand reached over hers and knotted fingers through the gaps, rubbing his cheek against her palm before pulling it away to hold it against the wall above her. Lips met with hers once more as he touched her flesh. His fingertips were like matches striking sparks against her skin and they lit flames wherever he found curves and bundles of nerves that made her squirm or squeal.

When knuckles found her most intimate place, his hips moving away to make space, he lingered there for awhile to caress the small mound with due care. When he was finally ready to go beyond the sensual appetizers, he picked her up and took her from the wall. As soon as he dropped her on the bed, his goggles and shirt came off then his face came down between her legs. Hands still partially gloved he held her thighs apart and gently nuzzled one as he slowly breathed in the smell of her sex. Even there she smelled nice--pretty--and he softly moaned at it.

His lower clothing fell to the floor and he climbed up the bed until he was holding his body up over her, hands pulling her legs around his waist before they went to support his weight; one hand in the mess of curls around her head and the other slipping under her shoulder to knead fingers into her back, thumb playing against her breast as it gave a soft glowing reflection of the fluorescent print on his chest. God, she was soft. And she was warm. And she was his. And his eyes demanded more. They whispered needs both sexual and romantic that he himself would never speak of or admit to. But his body would steal them away; just as his lungs stole her breath and his hips stole her motion.

At first it was a spreading of her warmth over his, the grinding of his hardened texture washing over her clit like tides of pleasure moving in and out. The more moisture he gathered from her lips, the less friction hindered either of their sex nerves. By the time he was slick with her, his breathing became slow heavy panting and he reached down to even out that sweet and sour butter that was hers. Without warning he entered her.

He was slow, but he was steady and he went deep. Each thrust was natural yet deliberate, every fraction of movement backed by a purpose to please and be pleased. Even though he was surely human, his body a mass of man and his pleasurings a mark of soul, the motions were intuitive--instinctive--like an animal wild with a desire to satisfy an uncontrollable hunger. The deeper he went falling down that pit of mind-blinding passion, the less control he kept hold of; he started going faster, harder. At some point, he even lost recognition of Sidra herself, the only thing left in his conscience was that burning pressure in his chest that was gradually spreading to the rest of his body like leaks of molten lava in a dead volcano rising.

"Sidra..." It was barely a growl or a groan, clear only because he was speaking directly in her ear. He could feel a bubble about to burst. Without meaning to he kept it closed. Something was holding him back. He wanted something, anything. "Are you mine..?" His lips conveyed what his ears wanted to hear before he even knew what he was saying. It didn't even matter. He just wanted to hear her say 'yes'.
 
Sidra's body was molten heat as Riddick touched and teased her every curve—soft flesh against hardened muscular planes. She sensed his control. That the predatory beast was barely at bay underneath the layer of man that was holding her in those moments as he explored her there against the wall—learning that which was his. And it sent waves of erotic chills along her spine and coursing over her skin.

Gasps and pants rolled from Sidra's mouth. Her awareness of Riddick's hands moving over her, finding her 'sweet spots'... her 'soft spots'... exploiting them for all they were, ever apparent. Though clearly she was enjoying every blissful moment. Never had she felt such pleasures, such deep and dark desires. When his lips claimed hers again, she felt the flame inside her burning brighter, much like the beacon of Helion Prime once had, and with it a yearning. She mewled softly as her sex got wet, as her arousal grew along with a heavy need.

Sidra looked into Riddick's swirling eyes just then, her own expressing that need. She could see his own reflected back and he immediately picked her up and brought her over to the bed, gently placing her down upon it like some treasure to be cherished. She swallowed with anticipation as she watched him remove his shirt, leaning forward and dipping his head between her thighs so that he could take in the scent of her sex. His. She blushed a bit. But when she heard his moan, she felt a jolt run along her skin and a deep throb began to pulse within her clit making her whimper in need.

Riddick then slid up Sidra's body, her eyes locking onto his. The tension was so thick, she thought it could be sliced clean with the shiv he'd given her earlier, probably several times over. As she stared into his strange eyes, she could see he wanted more, that he demanded it. And like a moth the flame, she wanted to give it to him at any price. At that, her legs went wide, spreading willingly for him as he pushed them apart and wrapped them about his body. Her sex was seething now as the promise of more began to grow, as she felt him rubbing against her entrance... fully naked now, like her.

Sidra's body arched up to mold to Riddick's as he rubbed against her, her hips bucking ever so slightly. Suddenly, he pushed and thrust and within moments was stretching her with both his length and girth. She let out a tiny yelp, her hands reaching for him and clutching tightly onto his shoulders, nails digging a bit as he began to move. The primitive side... the animal side... they were taking over the Furyan and leaving the man behind for a time so it could claim its mate and sate the beast inside.

"Riddick..." Sidra panted. "Riddick..." Her body writhed beneath him as her juices flowed and dripped down her thighs, her skin on fire as passion burned throughout her entire being. Her crystal blue eyes looked into those pools of mercury as she whimpered and nodded. "Yes, Riddick... I'm yours..." She bit down on her lip to stifle a gasp, her body moving in rhythmic time as he moved faster, harder, causing her to let out tiny cries. "I'm yours... I'm yours...I'll always be yours..."
 
"Yes, Riddick... I'm yours... I'm yours... I'm yours...I'll always be yours..."

The words struck hot pouring gold and its shining white purity left itself in splashes on the walls, blotches that seeped into the pink of her insides. A final burst of thrusting to spread the paint thin came with a cry of his overflow--the walls of his dam had broken. Even when the spill reduced itself to a trickle he was pounding her, though in paced intervals of stop and go. Only when he felt himself completely emptied did he give in to exhaustion and lay his body atop hers like a pile of steaming sweat on lukewarm man.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door and it opened way for a maid and her entourage of food carriers(though it was hardly an entourage). Riddick felt sluggish and it showed in the way he picked up his head to peek at the ladies who were looking a tad paler than they normally did. Except for the young one at the end who was looking more saturated. "I told you to take your time." The lead maid almost huffed and had the food left on the table then quietly stormed out with her lessers, the last one getting pinker as she stole a last glimpse of the Lord Marshall's butt. "Thank you." The door closed. Riddick's face fall back into the bed next to Sidra's, curls encompassing. He spoke a very muffled "That was tiring."

After some mental recovery time, Riddick rolled off to the side and laid his head in his hands, eyes closed and body relaxing as it let itself cool down. "Go ahead and eat if you're hungry. For dead people they're actually not bad cooks."
 
Warmth. Heat. Riddick was Sidra's beacon of light as he suddenly claimed her body as his own, marking her insides with his seed as he spilled himself within her pink depths. Sidra let out a whimpering cry the moment she felt the eruption, her body keenly aware of its possessor and wanting to give all of itself to him. She hoped the Necromongers would somehow notice the difference after this coupling, but given their sterile, lack of anything, she found herself doubting. The only thing they seemed to long for was their precious Underverse—a sad existence indeed, if death was all one sought.

Sidra moaned, soft rasping breaths moving her lungs as her body spasm'd with pleasures. She could feel Riddick slowing until he finally rested his weight, full, upon her smaller body. Her legs were still entangled about him, wrapping themselves about his waist while her thighs remained slicked from her juices that had flowed so heavily only moments ago as their bodies had danced the dark rhythmic desires one only found behind closed doors and under silken sheets.

All of a sudden, there was a loud knock and a swift opening of the door. Sidra felt the rush of cold air brush her skin and immediately she began to shiver. She turned her head, cool eyes upon Necromonger maids as they stood their in waiting with trays of food. Instantly, her face began to burn red and she wished to hide. The idea of those paled women seeing her bared body, seeing Riddick... Most of them looked shocked, perhaps intrigued? And the newest convert... Oh Sidra really wished the room was darker.

After the Necro maids left and Sidra and Riddick were alone once again, everything fell awkwardly silent for the briefest moments. The Necros made her uneasy and she hadn't liked the way any of them looked at them so disapprovingly. She bit down on her lip and turned to look at Riddick who had rolled off her and then shifted to sit up and hug her knees to her chest for some comfort. The air seemed colder now given the interruption of those Necros, almost harsh. Sliding a bit closer to the Furyan, she then gave a nod about the food and glanced over at it as it sat there upon the table.

Sidra blinked, pushing her mass of curls away from her face only for them to fall back down once more. She slowly swiveled her legs over the side of the bed to let them dangle for a moment, the air cold as it swirled about her naked form. She pushed herself off the bed and quietly padded over to the food and took a small plate for herself. Walking back over to Riddick, she extended her hands and held the plate out for him, her head tilted as she peered at him through her curls, her skin broken out into goose bumps as the cool air caressed her skin, making it react.

"For you," Sidra said softly as she handed Riddick the plate, giving him a shy smile and hoping he'd accept it.
 
Riddick sat up and gave the plate a steady gaze before running his eyes over the girl. It was hard to say how he felt about what had just happened. It was a wonder it had happened at all. There were a million ways he could explain it, but the man was too tired to care. He was always too tired to care. Briefly, he pondered if maybe that was why so many things went wrong; Kyra was in the next room barely surviving in an adjusted state of cryosleep; Imam was dead; the pilot from the planet of darkness had been unintendedly sacrificed--even if it was the reason, there was nothing he could do. Riddick could not turn away thirty, forty years of hardened soul. He didn't want to.

Except for maybe those bright starry eyes.

Riddick took the plate and plopped a bite into his mouth but set the rest of the food aside. He pulled the sheet off the bed and snapped it behind Sidra, wrapping it around her body as he pulled it to his lap. His nose went to her hair, eyes closing to shut out whatever bit of light or color that was available. "You looked cold." He justified his somewhat considerate action and even went so far as to slip his hands over her shoulders and neck, gently but firmly massaging her muscles. Something felt nice about touching her. He felt comfortable being close to her.

Suddenly the doors burst open again. Riddick looked over the girl's shoulder to see a couple of the older commanders standing in the doorway. Their eyes were seething--a rare showcasing of their emotions. This was probably the one time they were any fun to be around.

"Lord Marshall, she may be your pet and she may have her conversion delayed or she may even be used as a breeder, but it is sacrilege for a Necromonger to indulge in the living flesh!"

The other commanders were redundant in their disapprovals until one spoke of purifying the religious dignity of their king. "She is no longer suitable for our faith, she must be purged. You must purge her to rinse yourself of her."

It was slight, but Riddick squeezed one of Sidra's shoulders. Instinct, perhaps, since he needed to protect her. For various reasons. "Purge? If you really believed in that shit you'd have 'purged' me by now." Riddick gently put the girl aside and started dressing, quite unbothered by the unnecessary audience. "You know what? I have a better idea. As your king, I'm going to instate a new law." Now decently covered, Riddick put a hand on Sidra's head and patted it softly. "Anyone who feels up to the challenge can duel out their fate."

"What in Underverse's name are you talking about?"

"I mean, they get to keep what they kill." He walked up to the others, tilting his head with a small but very smug smirk. "Come on, commanders, you know you can't argue with that."

"And she can kill?"

"She will."

"She's a woman, and a stowaw--"

"She will. Now get. out."

Riddick had caught them off guard. That was a good sign. The tiny mob left the room but the Furyan decided it was a good time to leave this small vacation as well. He turned to grab the Necro armor he'd thrown off, but then decided against it and reached for the rest of his clothes and equipment instead. It suited him better. That scrap metal was too heavy to stand anyway.

"Get dressed, kid. You just got promoted to advanced combat."
 
Those curls hung in her face as she looked up at him, her expression one of hope and wonder and a myriad of other things. Crystalline eyes locked with swirls of mercury, wondering what was going on in Riddick's mind as he looked down upon her as she extended her hands toward him. Sidra could sense an inner conflict roiling beneath the surface, something growing underneath that he wasn't ready to share. She wished he would as she watched him take a small bit of the food she offered and then covered her naked body with a flimsy sheet, pulling her just close enough.

Sidra was about to speak, to ask Riddick where his thoughts had gone when the door flew open and the air went cold and still. She felt herself beginning to tremble partially from the sudden chill in the air and partially from the fear she felt as she looked upon the strange expressions the Necromonger men were donning. Something off, not quite right and it made her wish she'd never boarded Necropolis except for the fact that it would've meant she and the Furyan would've never been bonded.

Bonded? Was that what she was feeling...?

Her hands pushed absently at her hair as she moved closer to Riddick. Sidra was definitely frightened and the banter that had begun only made things worse. She looked up at the Furyan, his face calm, though she could feel the inner rage, the fierce protection he had over her coming to the forefront as his hands began to touch her possessively. She glanced over at the Necros and shivered, pulling at the sheet that clung tightly to her body like a second skin.

Were all these men serious?

Sidra's face paled and she felt like she was going to faint. It was beginning to sink in what was being decided. The Necros didn't think her fit any longer and now the option was kill or be killed? She blinked several times, her body feeling weak as everything began to swirl and swim about her, her vision blurring.

"Riddick?" Sidra whispered as the Necromonger men finished their spouting and finally left. She looked up at the Furyan, pushing at her hair, stumbling slightly where she stood.

Sidra nodded as her bright eyes began to prick with tears, her cheeks going whiter than before. Her tummy felt nauseous, sick. Advanced combat? She wasn't ready. Her dampened eyes darted over to the shiv he'd given her. Trust. She'd have to learn it. Her life depended on it. She just hoped she could do so in a matter of moments without any true hands on practice.

Slowly, Sidra walked over to her clothes. She let the sheet drop to the floor and began to dress herself. Her knees wobbled and shook as she slid her panties and pants back up her legs and over her curves. Once fully dressed, she thought she was going to collapse, but somehow she managed to hold on. Barely. Again, her eyes peered through her curls and found the shiv lying there in wait for her to take it within her grasp. Licking her lips, silent tears rolling down paled cheeks, she walked over to retrieve it.

The weapon felt light in her hands and she tried to recall the way Riddick had shown her how to hold it—if you feel it, you're holding it wrong. Sidra looked up and into Riddick's silvery eyes, her body trembling. "What do I have to do, Riddick?" she asked him, her voice soft and so unsure.

The fear Sidra held was apparent, as was her uncertainty of what she needed to do and why. These ruthless people, these death bringers were unlike anyone she'd ever known. And just when things were starting to make sense after her world had been turned upside down... chaos had settled back into her midst once more.

Another tear rolled down Sidra's cheek. Quickly and almost ashamedly she wiped it away. "Who do I have to hope to kill if..." her voice trailed and she shivered, clutching tightly to the shiv in her hand. "Will I ever be warm again?"
 
When Sidra was finished dressing, Riddick had already gathered his weapons and he went over to firm her grasp over her knife. "That's up to you." He grabbed her shoulders then and pinned her against the wall, his face close to hers. He stared into her eyes, his gaze like bubbling mercury. "Take a breath and remember what you did earlier. Replace your fear with that rage. Hold on to it; don't you dare let it go."

The Furyan drew her blade up to his throat. "You cut wherever the flesh shows, but keep your eye on places with juice. The more blood the better." He pointed the tip into his skin, a slight cut appearing near the one he'd made earlier. "Stabbing will lose you your weapon. Stab only when you're going in for the kill, and even then do so if you're sure he's done for."

He stared silently then, watching her reactions until he could confirm that her spirit had hardened. Then he wiped her streaked cheeks on his glove and pressed her knife over her heart. "As long as that keeps beating, you're alive. You don't quit until it stops. Giving up can wait for when you're dead. Now come on. We've got a crowd to please."

The Lord Marshall strode out of his room, the hallways passing by like wind. As if such imaginings could call the devil herself, Aereon came to the Riddick's side. "The ship is already whispering, Riddick..."

"They'll soon be yelling out loud, Elemental." Aereon took that with a curious smile and followed him to the throne room in silence. Once there, he took his place to sit and then ordered someone light of foot to send out the message that an event would take place. "I think you'll enjoy this." Aereon passed him a glance of intrigue then patiently waited.
 
Sidra's muscles were tense, her nerves raw, as she followed Riddick down the dimly lit corridor. Eyes. So many half-dead eyes were already staring at her and then there were the hushed whispers. The girl glanced from side to side, peering through thick tendrils, to glimpse at them all. Of course, she knew none could reflect anything back. It was something she'd noticed about Lord Vaako earlier in the cargo bay and once more when on Furya. It was a startling realization of this volatile, fanatic people obsessed with death and all it brought with it.

Shivering, Sidra looked down at the shiv she held in her hand and swallowed. She could see the Necro maids huddling in corners as they whispered, shaking their heads in disgust as they looked at her. But then, how ironic that their eyes lingered on the form of her protector, on the Furyan and their Lord Marshall leading the way. They spoke of heresy and blasphemy, of purging and cleansing. Yet none seemed to look at themselves. Just then, she nearly bumped into one of the Necromonger males, stopping abruptly before doing so. He looked down upon her, blocking her path and cutting her off from Riddick for a moment. Instantly, she felt her adrenaline flow as her heart thudded swift and hard beneath her breast.

The Necromonger reached out and touched one of her curls and smirked at her. Sidra just winced, her shiv coming up toward his groin. She could see a strange fire in the male's eyes, yet her reflection remained to be seen. It was a dead pool of blue staring back at her, lifeless. Nothing. But still something was burning. Was it a pull perhaps? Whatever it was, it made her uneasy. Finally, the male backed off and she quickened her pace to catch up to the one she felt bonded to. To Riddick.

Finally, Sidra realized they'd come upon the area where Riddick had killed the previous Lord Marshall, to the throne room. The area was a vast expanse of space and Necromongers from everywhere were beginning to gather around. Above, in the balcony, she noticed the one woman that made her blood turn to ice—Dame Vaako—and wondered if the vixen's husband was nearby. She had no doubt that he wouldn't miss this event if he could help it.

Dame Vaako watched from above, her eyes narrowed slits like that of a serpent as she watched with great interest at what was about to unfold. She'd heard word of the coupling, that the non-converted Lord Marshall dared to engage in pleasures so openly with one who wasn't one of them. It truly was monstrous, yet it showed even more just how right she was that this girl held some sort of meaning to him—that she was his weakness, the key to his undoing. As she watched the girl enter the room, she smirked. She looked so out of place it was laughable, even as she held onto that pitiful shiv. It was clear the girl had no idea what she was doing. And now, she'd die and Riddick wouldn't be able to stop it. Or... would he dare to intervene? Either way, it would weaken him. Intervene and lose support of your followers. Stand back, watch your lover die and lose your sense of self. It would be the perfect time for her husband to strike... Potentially. Then again, she'd heard it was the Furyan who'd suggested this plan. Did he have something up his sleeve? Was there more to this Sidra than he let on? As her eyes shifted, she caught sight of Aereon and let out soft sigh. Of course there was. She would just have to wait and see. And then, when the moment was right, exploit it. There was still much time before reaching Underverse.

Sidra felt her knees go weak as she was pushed toward the center of the throne room. So many paled faces, so many non-reflective eyes, all were watching her. She looked to Riddick as she tightly held the shiv, her only weapon. Licking her lips, she scanned the room knowing that she had to choose her opponent. But who? Suddenly, the choice was made for her. A younger man, approximately equal in height and build to herself, stepped forward. She could see the scars playing on his throat, the mark of conversion.

"I stand up to the challenge," the Necromonger male stated. He stripped off his armor and set it aside and picked up a weapon comparable to the shiv Sidra held in her hand. He looked over at her and nodded. "I will purge this... thing... from our Lord Marshall. I will set things right," he spat. Turning toward Riddick, he bowed. "For you, my lord." Turning toward the rest of the Necromongers, he raised his hand holding his weapons. "For Necromongers and the Necromonger way! 'Til Underverse come!"
 
Lord Vaako rushed to his wife's side with a hand on the railing that separated them from the stage below. His face showed small signs of intrigue though it was mostly drowned out by the look of distaste that he felt for not only the girl and Riddick, but the fact that their faith was being abused. Though Vaako had to admit that there had never been any rules against condemning oneself with the living. Such a circumstance had never arose before for such a thing to be addressed in the first place. "I see you're enjoying yourself, Dame." He spoke only to announce his presence, his eyes kept on the girl and now her challenger as well.

"Bad move..." Riddick murmured to himself as he noted the challenger's honorable removal of his armor and the choice of weapon. Indeed, any advantage for Sidra was a good one, but he supposed the Necromonger didn't need to know that. If he wanted to convert her or send her directly to the Underverse, let him try. The girl would survive. Even if she came out half dead, she would survive.

She had to. Too many things depended on it. He depended on it.

Most likely Aereon alone could sense the slight tension in Riddick's muscles as he laid himself back, body leaned towards one side. He seemed to be hoping for a favorable conclusion, though his hidden nerves dictated that he felt the same way she did about the probabilities. The Elemental could see that the girl had been given some tips, but it was hard to say how far that would take her. There was a good possibility that the Necromonger would fall, but would he take the girl with him? That was even likelier. Or did Riddick see something that she could not? Furyans were a curious lot. In fact, they were much like the very opposites of her own kind. If she could calculate things beyond the Furyan's understanding, perhaps the Furyan could predict things beyond an Elemental's reasonings.

With that thought in hand, Riddick flicked his hand in the air. "Whenever you're ready, kids."
 
The crowd let out a roar as the Necromonger readied himself for Sidra, his non-reflective eyes pools of nothingness as he waited for her to move. She bit down on her lip as she held onto her shiv, her piercing eyes peering through thick curls as she swallowed hard and thought about how she was going to approach this battle.

Speed.

Sidra had to rely on her speed, not her strength. Riddick had said as much given how tiny she was. Yes, this Necromonger was smaller than many of the other males acting as spectators, their eyes watching her in ways that made her skin crawl, but he could still overpower her quite easily.

Aim.

Licking her lips, Sidra's eyes darted over to Riddick. He seemed so far away, his shadow not even close to reaching where she stood. She looked down at her feet and let out a tiny breath. Yes. She had to have purpose when she struck or sliced. Everything needed to be done with calculated precision though she'd only have an instant to decide—a brief moment to choose.

Sweet spots... soft spots...

Sidra's heart was pounding as her blood coursed through her veins, her adrenaline rushing hard. Suddenly, she looked up at the balcony again and gasped. Her eyes locked onto those of Dame Vaako's for a brief moment and she felt herself begin to tremble. She noticed her husband come up behind her and instantly she looked away. As she focused on her breathing, she looked at her shiv and adjusted it her hand, moving it about to get a better feel for it. She closed her eyes and imagined all the spots that would be the easiest to cut, to make bleed and expose.

Dame Vaako smirked as she watched the girl from above at her perch high atop in the balcony. She turned toward her husband who had approached and sighed quietly. "I enjoy watching failure, my lord. Especially when it means a rightful king and leader of a people will soon rise into power." She smiled and nodded at him, curtseying low. Still smiling wickedly, she looked up and tilted her head. "Are you ready to watch, my king?" she asked, her words soft so that only he could hear. Her words were poison laced with promise, the promise of a future where only one true victor stood tall. Slowly the woman rose. She averted her eyes for a moment before staring directly into his, meeting his gaze. "Are you ready to watch the first step toward the Riddick's timely and grandiose ruin? Are you ready to watch his pet die?" Her smile broadening, she wondered what her husband would think about either of those two things...

Sidra suddenly felt a nudge and was pushed into the center of the throne room. Not wanting to glance behind herself to see who'd pushed her, she just crouched low and held her shiv tightly. Across the way, the Necro male eyed her with half-dead windows to a seemingly soulless body. Gasping softly, she narrowed her eyes to get a better look at her opponent. Could she take him? Was it possible? She had to breathe... she had to keep her heart pumping, her mind moving, her muscles working...

Just then, the half-dead lunged toward her and only two words came to Sidra's mind—dodge, slice.
 
Riddick could almost see her thoughts, every signal from her body telling him that she was reviewing what he had taught her not long ago. He felt a twitch somewhere as he saw her emotions distracted by the Vaako couple above. Don't look, Sidra. This was her stage, her rules. No eyes were watching but her opponent's. There was another twitch when someone pushed her forward. He made a note to make an example of that man as soon as an opportunity arose, if it did. After all, kings were allowed their prejudices. He certainly wouldn't mind if Sidra's challenger ended up gruesomely dead, though it was hard to say how the girl would take that...

Vaako expected she wouldn't fare well with cold death on her hands. The experience of combat might just as well convert her halfway. But the commander could see through Riddick's eyes, even if they were somewhat clouded by his Necromonger perceptions. "Silence, Dame. That throne still belongs to someone else." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, fingers stroking across her neck as if itching to squeeze her windpipe closed. His eyes, though, met hers for only the briefest of moments before turning their undivided attention to the fight below. "This may be the beginning to the king's ruin...but his pet(disgusting thing)might survive." Vaako had been a warrior long enough to see the signs--the same signs that Riddick had caught earlier when they had been far more subtle. Indeed, the Furyan's ability to discern an individual's capabilities was outstanding. Even the Lord Vaako had only noticed now that the girl had been adjusted--likely Riddick's doing as well.

The challenger made his move. Vaako gripped the railing. Riddick gripped the throne arm. For a split second the entire room fell to an anxious silence. Die, Blight, the silence whispered. Live, Sidra, it screamed.
 
Sidra crouched even lower, her body hovering mere inches above the cold, metallic floor of Necropolis. Her hand moved upward, the one holding the shiv. Slice... such an easy concept, such a simple thing for a weapon to do—to tear against flesh and rip it open to expose whatever might come into contact with the sharpened edge of death's beloved greeter.

Her ears heard the grunt, the shout as paled flesh split apart in a thin line of crimson. Sidra immediately turned her head, curls obstructing her view, but not enough that she couldn't see the aftermath of what she'd done. Yes, she'd marked the man and watched him cradle the wound on his thigh for a moment before his eyes found her form and looked upon her with seething hatred.

"You will pay for that, breeder," the Necro spat through gritted teeth.

Sidra tilted her head and looked at her shiv, the thin draw of blood running along the shiv's bladed edge. She brought the blade up to her lips and darted her tongue out for a moment, letting the tip taste the scarlet drops. It was rancid with death, a putrid essence only the end could bring, and she instantly spit it out onto the floor.

"You taste of death, Death-Bringer," Sidra suddenly found herself saying. She wasn't quite sure where the sudden burst of courage was coming from, her body trembling on the inside despite it all. Perhaps it was her earlier coupling with the Furyan or knowing he was merely there. Of course, she knew she still was out matched in strength and in several other ways, but if she was to greet death, she'd die with the 'fire' the Furyan had instilled within her. For a moment, her piercing eyes found Riddick's, even through her mass of curls, before looking back at her opponent. "You speak of purging? I think it is you who needs to be cleansed."

At that, Sidra licked her lips, knowing full well the taunt would spurn the Necro male and so she waited for his attack—the attack that would allow her to defend, to aim, to dodge, to slice. As predicted, the male lunged yet again, running at her with full force, his non-reflective eyes turning red with anger as he made his way toward her, weapon in hand and ready to strike her chest, her throat.

Once the Necro was close enough, Sidra parried still taking note of where the male was aiming, eyeing. Holding her shiv, she fluidly let it slice his other thigh only it was clear he expected this, his adrenaline allowing him to handle the pain this time. He turned, only Sidra anticipated the move, her shiv slicing yet again. The Necro male's eyes widened when she sliced his ribs and jumped upon his back, her shiv finally slicing across his throat.

High above in her perch, Dame Vaako's eyes went as wide as saucers. What was this... display? She had no words for it. She was disgusted at what she saw, what she witnessed. This wretched girl, this life, she was making a fool of one of their fighters. Granted, he was a weaker fighter, but nonetheless he represented the Necromongers. She turned to look at her husband, her distaste evidently clear. As she turned to look back, she saw the girl drop away from the challenger, still at the ready. She tilted her head a bit as she watched. She let out a breath as she watched him stumble. She'd thought the cut fatal, but luckily, it hadn't been, her mark had been a bit too low, too shallow. However, it had still greatly weakened the male and that alone placed him at a disadvantaged. Yes, she was most seriously displeased at the display.
 
The first strike helped Riddick find some solace in the tension. Though the tasting of the blood on her blade briefly threw his feelings in an odd direction. He'd never taught her to do theatrics. Not that he was opposed. As their eyes met for that short moment that she looked, he knew her adrenaline was pumping and both her fear and fury were bringing on the determined confidence she needed to win this fight.

"You speak of purging? I think it is you who needs to be cleansed."

Vaako couldn't help but scoff at the statement. Even so, the lord could not dismiss the girl's fervor. For a mere stowaway, she had the natural reflexes of a savage warrior--another influence from the Riddick, perhaps. He even slightly raised his brow when he witnessed the slice to his fellowman's throat. It almost distracted him from his wife's display of displeasure. "Settle, Dame." Whether it was the girl's fighting capabilities or her wild desire to survive, the breeder found a new pocket of feelings in Vaako beside the immense disgust for her breath and blood. He paid them little to no attention, but he did stray from the lady to head downstairs to where the action was going on. He even pushed through the crowd to get a front row seat. There was something about this fight that made him want to watch; want to jump in the moment a victor was crowned. Just as he realized this want, he looked up to see that all the others were watching with as piercing an interest and as contestable a disgust.

Something was changing. Riddick was changing it.
 
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