So, the lights were on. That was an improvement.

It was the last thing she could remember. The pitch-black darkness and the warnings that something was snaking in the shadows. One of Nemean's Overseers had been hunting ruthlessly, the last she heard-- a dappled, deerlike creature had been telling her of it. Bargo, or Gasgas, whatever its name had been. Eurydome hadn't sweated it too much, she just did what she always did: she followed orders.

The caves were quiet. Was there still fighting going on...? Everything seemed... normal, aside from the silence-- which only told Eurydome that some must still be hiding after all this time, or maybe they had fallen asleep, too. Is that what happened to her Master?

Jupiter hadn't woken her up, but something must have-- something that had decided to leave her promptly, it seemed. No orders. No Overseer lingering. Eurydome had nothing to do, and that didn't quite sit right with her. She could wander around yelling for names she knew, but that didn't seem clever, either-- not with the way things had been left before she slept.

So, Eurydome went to where she always used to be when nothing else was happening.

Orion was quiet. The Forum was quiet. The Arena was empty. She crawled into the entrance and padded out into the wide ring that somehow, to her nose, still held the coppery scent of blood-- but here, there was only dust. The seats were empty. The air was still. There were no eyes on her or voices chanting for the spill of blood and violence, and more importantly: there was no Jupiter.

But, Jupiter could find her here, if she woke up. If she needed her. That's all that mattered.

In the meantime, Eurydome would train. She paced into the very heart of the arena and stretched her aching limbs out until the joints clicked. Then, she was focusing, drawing magic-- the amethyst spur glittered at the back of her leg and a short burst of air rippled through her fur.

Directionless. Short-lived. Weak. How long had she been asleep for, that even simple little spells very nearly took it out of her?

She hated to think about it too long.

@Vakornol

The peace was almost nice.

Interesting, how violence and bloodshed could become almost monotonous; and Hell, Vakornol had gleaned nothing but fun from it. Day-in and day-out, plodding past laborers and their shoddy works to greet whatever Hand had come to study the newest designs, pick and choose what beasts to take, or plain be entertained—and boy, had she entertained (even when it seemed a waste of a good opponent to spill their blood and guts all over the Arena floor).

The Valkhound hadn't minded it too much, but with an interesting silence befalling the cave for a couple millennia and being sustained by the relatively mild-mannered denizens of today... well, things like a Master-sponsored Deathmatch became infinitely more exciting. Not to say that the Revenant was bored of the new age. No, she was far from it; in fact, she had plenty of time to finally watch and complain about Rodd Danger with the Palace's permanent-seeming resident Aethril.

... or hassle Vargas about his promotion and how much of a buzzkill he'd (not) become.

Ah, well.

Vakornol still—true to her title—haunted the Arena at times. She studied the chrysalises littering its bottom levels, beneath the floor, the destroyed and corroded caves that'd do poorly at containing any of the more violent gladiatorial lions and bears that cut the chaff from the wheat (or so to speak, since she still didn't care to know about modern classifications of what something was.) Occasionally, she studied her own chrysalis in the backrooms; and couldn't help but to be amused by how easily she'd been removed from the Deathmatch.

Just one poke of the halberd.

Hilarious, actually.

Few others had ever come close to incapacitating her in such a way that only a chrysalis would save her. The one standing in the Arena was not one of them; though, she did remember the press of sharpened amethyst against her throat, challenging words uttered between panting breaths and pouring from quirked lips. Then she'd spread her foe out in the dust, glittering gold coating both of their hides.

The record's essentially 1-0.

Putrescent, incandescent eyes widened as they turned upward, and she stalked from the shadows of one of the Arena's many (not destroyed) entrances. Vakornol crooned as she studied the figure as she stretched. "Amaranth, Gilded Blade, Unkillable Menace—I do hope I'm not missing a few." She paused about ten yards off, ruff only gently brushed by the stirring breeze that seemed to accompany this one's presence.

Her eyes pinched upward in approximately half of a smile. "Eurydome!" Vakornol called. Cheshire teeth bared further into a crooked grin as her shoulders rolled and settled up high. Her skull sunk low between them as she growled. "En garde."

One Hell of a greeting, inviting one of your age-old rivals to a battle after a few thousand years' vacation.

@Eurydome

Something lurched in her heart.

Breathless, fur tousled by wind, Eurydome turned. It wasn't who she wanted to see calling her name but it was welcome nontheless-- memories flashed before violet eyes and she, for a moment, relived the feeling of acrid teeth ripping fur from skin, the delicate sound of ripping and the roar of the crowd as glittering, iridescent golden blood coated the arena floor.

The Forsaken Reverant had taught her a critical lesson: don't get too cocky. For that, she held no true ill will-- even through their little rivalry, Eurydome felt fond of Vakornol. She liked her company, and she liked to watch her fight whenever she wasn't in the ring herself. She studied and she memorized and she admired, admired a lot more than she was comfortable admitting.

Her tongue swiped along her jowls. "You're missing a few," the gladiator couldn't keep the purr from rumbling in her throat, even as the amaranthine fur along her spine began to bristle with anticipation. "I'm surprised no one has killed you yet, Reverant."

Vakornol would lunge at any moment-- this she knew. The amethyst blade was lifted from her shoulder and despite the twinge of nervousness (am I still too weak? I do not want to embarass myself...) soaring through her limbs she held it loosely, eyes pinned on her new-found opponent. It wasn't the first time-- it wasn't the last, either, but here, now...

There was no audience. There was no sound beyond a few ragged breaths and the sound of Eurydome's unsheathed claws clicking delicately against the arena floor as she slowly paced sideways and back, alert, braced, defensive. It was only a fight, and yet there was something so private about this affair, about the gaze held between them, about the uneven grin consuming Vakornol's face.

Her face felt hot in a way she couldn't describe-- an invisible fire being thrown in her face. She could almost taste the smoke.

And yet, Eurydome's body did not betray her. She knew this dance and automatically, as if she had been here just yesterday, she was already searching Vakornol's movements, her eyes, the slightest twinges of the Valkhound's muscles. She spoke freely, as if nothing had been weighing on her mind at all.

"Give me everything you have," she snarled.

@Vakornol

The stumpiness of Vakornol's tail swayed as she bared a cocky sort of smirk. Her head tilted and lifted just an inch—to contribute, of course, to the smoldering look she tossed the other's way. "I'm surprised no one else has beat down that attitude of yours, Amaranth." Oh, and was that a little puff of a laugh? She was one to talk about attitude.

But it was all fun and games, this song and dance. The posturing before two bears struck one another in brief, violent conflict; perhaps neither willing to escalate so far as to tempt death as a consequence by striking too hard, too fiercely, rendering the competitor unable to continue at risk of their own peril or squandering energy.

And that was the thing, wasn't it? The lack of eyes upon them? From the moment a blood-soaked blade left toned, scarred shoulders and came to be held at one's side, Vakornol knew that her challenge'd been accepted—but there was no bloodthirsty roar from the stands. Not so much as a whisper, because it was just the two of them.

These bears lacked a reason to kill one another, then. Still yet, she crooned in response, "Only if you do the same!"

Vakornol was excited by that thought.

Bare bones ruff setting on end, her jaw set into a more serious clench. Eurydome'd offered the first move, to stand on the defensive; that put an impressed feeling in her skull, distractingly intense for just a moment. As Vakornol herself began to move—forward, with a seemingly casual, loping gait—she privately commended the gladiator for putting her off her own rhythms. It was up to her to make the first strike, not to dodge and weave through piercing blows.

Skillful play.

The valkhound hoped to match it.

First move would be to halt an effective defense.

Vakornol abruptly broke into a full gallop, darting toward the feline beast's left side on slender legs. If her opponent attempted to pivot to face her, she also attempted to pivot around. The idea was to stay on that side, as far from the swing of a sword as possible to maximize her chances of dodging away at the last second once she made her move: a forearm struck out from beneath her (though she barely broke stride with how quick the motion was) and made to hit where shoulder ended and weight-bearing limb began.

At risk of bruising her own knuckles, she curled her claws inward—the hope was not to permanently cripple or tear through the joint, but merely set off that involuntary reflex to buckle.

ROUND 1/?

ATTEMPT: Punch-swipe at Eurie's left foreleg (where the "elbow" is)
DEFENSE: Bouncing on toes, light stance, trying to compensate for any turning to face her
INJURIES: None yet

@Eurydome

There was a twisted sort of comfort in this, Eurydome found. "I rarely give them the chance," she answered coolly, and she felt the twinge of her cheeks rising as her lips pulled into a little smirk of her own. But that was all-- was there really need for fanciful words and taunts when, again, there was no audience?

Eurydome did not often fight for.. well, the sake of it. She was an entertainer first and foremost-- that much was in her very design. She was flashy, bright, commanded attention right down to the glittering blood that flowed through her veins. Although the privacy almost scared her, there was a certain revelation that had her prepared for Vakornol's loping gait towards her.

If in doubt, she could at least entertain herself.

The Gladiator was weakened by her hibernation, but the muscle memory had not left her. Vakornol's forelimb struck out and in an instant, Eurydome had swept away from it. Powerful legs brought her a good few feet away, darting just out of the Valkhound's reach towards her left. Huge paws brought up dust and pebbles as she skidded to a halt and pivoted to face Vakornol again, rippling muscle in her legs prepared to repeat the evasive tactic.

Satisfaction sat deep within her belly, amethyst blade shifting diagonally. Now that she knew where Vakornol was thinking of aiming, she was sure to protect it-- a silent warning that the Reverant would have to come up with another idea.

"You'll have to be faster than that," she purred.

ROUND 1/?

ATTEMPT: Dodging (by running out of Vakornol's reach)
DEFENSE: Braced, defensively stanced, watching Vakornol
INJURIES: None

@Vakornol

The umpire, if he were there, would holler Strike one! at the whiffed blow.

Putrescent eyes fixed on the swirl of dust where Eurydome had once stood as she herself skidded past it; they crawled upward at the intentionally antagonizing retort. But, there was nary an ounce of irritation to make Vakornol's conscience crawl with mind-addling rage. If anything—and it was obvious in the upward pinch of her expression, gaze to snout—she was amused. She'd been read, and she'd been foiled.

Another tactic, then. One that would be quite the opposite of a hit-and-run.

The Valkhound loped toward her again, closing the couple yards' distance put between them with ground-devouring strides. Easy breaths pumped in and out of her lungs, though her heart jackhammered in her chest with what could only be described as unparalleled enthusiasm.

Rather than baring her own weaponry, though, Vakornol kept pressing forward, feinting backward; her eyes watched for every twitch of a muscle, golden eyes and glittering blade, hide and her body reacted accordingly with practiced ease. She'd stand in as close of quarters as was allowed, not making so much as a single attempt to jab at what might be construed as a vulnerability or opening.

Ooh, you want to try and hit me so bad, her thoughts cooed.

ROUND 2/?

ATTEMPT: Being prepared to dodge while standing in close quarters
DEFENSE: Bouncing on toes, light stance, ready to dodge
INJURIES: None yet

@Eurydome

Hitting Vakornol wasn't in the plan, not yet at least. Vakornol was huge and durable; she had an incredible amount of stamina. The current plan was to conserve her energy and keep dodging; let Vakornol waste her energy on hits that wouldn't land and having to catch up to the gladiator again.

She spit out a little huff as Vakornol came closer; and she lunged away, this time to the right where the dust was just beginning to settle from her prior attempt to dodge-- and, this time, without sparing a glance to see what hit Vakornol had failed to pull off. She did not expect, on her pivot back, Vakornol to be still coming for her.

Shit. She should've thought that out further.

Eurydome braced for impact, her paws twisting into the ground to hold her stance, but there was no twinge of pain striking through her limbs or an off-set of her balance. Not even the memory of jaws crunching around her haunches was here now-- just the gust of Vakornol lingering a little too close.

What was she doing?

ROUND 2/?

ATTEMPT: Keep running
DEFENSE: Braced, defensively stanced, watching Vakornol
INJURIES: None

@Vakornol

For a moment, she was merely chasing Eurydome's tail for her; quietly plodding after her with jaws kept nice and loose (so she didn't bite her own fool tongue off if she actually did have to avoid a blow) and weight shifted in a backwards lean. Waiting for her to wear out, whirl around to attack, do something—

There it is.

Pretty gold eyes flicked back, widened, and in an instant the centaur fully turned to look into the large, neon purple face of a merely bemused Valkhound. With a huff of air, she jabbed upward with an arm, to slap at the smooth(er) side of her opponent's sword and send it clattering to the ground.

Vakornol teased halfway through the swing. "Could afford to take a few risks! I hope you know we don't have to kill each other for someone else's amusement right now."

ROUND 3/?

ATTEMPT: Slap Eurie's sword away
DEFENSE: Bouncing on toes, light stance, still ready to dodge
INJURIES: None yet

@Eurydome

Amethyst clattered against the arena floor, but Eurydome didn't turn to look at it. Vakornol was too close for comfort, and now she didn't have her blade in one hand to come to her defense. Even then, however, Eurydome was far from helpless-- she had a good few back-ups in case of something like that happening.

"I suppose we don't," the gladiator responded, damaged voice rolling in the slightest of growls-- but if it wasn't a fight to the death, and it wasn't for amusement, then--

Eurydome tried not to find too much to question. It would drive her mad. For now, she just had to focus on the task at hand: beating the absolute shit out of Vakornol, now without means of her blade. Fine, she thought. If she wants to play that game, fine. It's her head.
Lips parted. Her weight shifted briefly before it was pulled right back into her haunches and she leapt, claws parting to attempt gripping onto the pebbly scales of Vakornol's face.

ROUND 3/?

ATTEMPT: pounce and cling onto vakornol's face
DEFENSE: um.
INJURIES: none

@Vakornol

It is indeed her head.

Her outstretched claws grazed earth, and Eurydome's four paws left it. No quarter given and seemingly unhindered by the loss of her sword, the gladiator was springing. One second, on the ground; and the next, hurtling through the air. Vakornol took a few steps backward, her own jaws splitting to let out a single huff as grappling hands glanced.

Sand shifted as the body thump! back down, and no shred of time passed before the Valkhound was throwing her own self forward, baring her forehead in a slightly upward swing: to catch Eurydome between the forward-pointing ridges of her own skull and send her straight to the ground by shoving forward.

Familiar sight, huh?

It would be, if Vakornol's foot did not come down on the amethyst sword, which then shifted in the sand and pulled her off-balance. This subsequently sent her falling straight down onto her chin with a comically enormous spray of Arena-appropriate substrate and forearms sprawling around Eurydome.

ROUND 4/?

ATTEMPT: Knock Eurydome down
DEFENSE: Squared-off stance
INJURIES: None yet

Permission to interpret failure given over Discord!
@Eurydome