Aloin woke up gasping a curse word.

She felt hard, the cold floor under her fingertips, her vision blurry and her head felt heavy. She took in deep breaths and propped up her elbows, something popping in the process. Her muscles sore, her chest ached.

She stopped halfway, breathing in and out until the scent of lemon reached her nose.

She rose, and clutched what must be a wall, then leaned on it. Her head rolled to her shoulders. She wheezed and rubbed her palms against her stiff legs.

What greeted her finally-adjusted sight was a majestic room she'd never seen before. It was big, definitely bigger than Aloin's room, or a futsal field. Bronze and gold and with silver roots to a big upside down tree. The temperature was even, though her neck and chest felt cool, and when she touched her hair, they were wrung and sticky as if she had just dried it from wetness.

When she squinted, she remembered what happened.
Her mama, the brownie, and being pulled into the sea. He was busy sulking, and then she saw a silhouette of a woman in the water.

She groaned, her throat clawing dry.

Her eyes peered to the corner, capturing some kind of hollow door with only arches around it. At the corner of the arch was a statue.

She could make out the head of a lion, and three pairs of bear legs on each side. The body was in scales, strong as an ox, with a tortoiseshell on top of it all. The tail emerging from behind was in twisted spirals, but the end of it was a scorpion's tail.
The Tarasque.

Its head seems to move and its tail flicked her way with a glint on its shell. But when Aloin blinked, the statue was still and gold.

Must be a trick of the light.

When she looked around, she could see other doors, all with a statue guarding it, most she didn't recognize. Though she could identify the statue of a fairy, with pixie ears and translucent wings. Above her were more doorways and statues.

Then she heard a loud thud, and the shiny leaves chimed a tad chaotically like someone crashed into it. What topped it all was the yelp that came after.

Aloin muttered a curse under her breath, bringing herself into a crouch while her fingers traced her whips. Fortunately, they were still there. A little heavy like her hair, but that did not lessen their function. Her legs burned as if refusing to be moved so abruptly. It wasn't the first time she had to ignore her body to get her job done.

"Baise."

Her own voice rung back, bouncing from the walls. She clenched her mouth shut.

With another curse word in her head, she plucked the whips and ran to her right, around the tree. She made no effort in keeping silent. She knew someone was there, and that person obviously knew of her presence as well.

Sharp swooped rushed past her head, stabbed to the wall to be some kind of bladed star-shaped weapon. When she turned, a force met her nose and she staggered back. Her nose felt warm, the fazed sensation rising to between her eyes--like small ants crawling up her forehead. She gritted her teeth, not even letting the blurriness stop before making her move.

One flick of her wrists and her whips uncoiled in a sharp slash.

The person made a sound, her whips smacking into skin. She soon saw who she was up against, and she couldn't believe it.

It was a small, pale girl with shiny black hair falling down her shoulders and lips full and red. She looked innocent and harmless--like a little porcelain doll-- but her attack proved otherwise.

She came full and fast, her feet steady as she jabbed. Aloin dodged while wrapping her whips around her arms, pulling her down off balance.

She didn't see the small bladed stars in her hand.

And so when the girl swiped at her feet, she was completely caught off guard. Her thigh was scorching with pain, tugging her whip upwards, landing a kick to her shoulder. Porcelain Girl grabbed hold of her feet, quickly dragging them down. Aloin barely managed to kneel her face away before toppling down--still enough time to lash her weapon again.

The fight lasted longer than she expected, which wasn't a good sign. Her thigh wasn't in a good condition, but neither was the girl's arm, one deep red gash thanks to her whip. Aloin saw her weakness bright and clear--mainly the wound, and a lack of analyzing actions--and Porcelain Girl must have seen hers as well. She was small, yes, but she sure knew how to fight.

Aloin felt her pride at risk, a burning sensation up her chest.

Blinded with pain, the wound stinging, she took a step back and the small one did the same. They eyed each other, from legs to arms to face, and made long-lasting eye contact. Blue eyes to black. Her grip tightened, while the other one clenched her hand into fists.

Suddenly, the leaves rang in such a high pitch that they both cringed and turned its way. What emerged from the zephyrs was a dwarf man, even smaller than Porcelain Girl.

He had his hands clapped thrice with a grin on his face. The leaves brushed his bare, bald head. He waddled towards them while spreading his arms, holsters of guns around his waist. "Well done."

Aloin scowled at him. He looked exactly like that brownie that let her drown. The brownie that noticed what she didn't mean to show.

The brownie who showed pity she did not need.

They looked at each other, the tension somewhat naturalized. She no longer looked so much of a threat. Her shoulders relaxed, a sigh out of the girl's mouth, joined with a promising grin.
"I'm Aloin."

"Fumihiko Amaya."
They nodded and attacked.

Aloin was faster--even with the full blast of pain by her leg, the first to land a hit on him. She didn't waste any time to drag him closer and kicked him in the shins. Fumihiko came in not soon after when he realized the situation and has his hands on his waist. She pressed his wrist down with her bare heels, sitting with her knees on his chest. A scar trailed like a rope down his temple to his cheeks.

They exchanged a glance, the grin not off Fumihiko's face. Aloin replied with a shrug, her head already fuzzy with whatever just happened--first, someone drowned her, then she woke up somewhere alien, then she immediately had to engage in a fight with a little girl and a dwarf man.

"Baise toute cette merde."

"I could easily take on you two, you know?" the dwarf said, his tone dry. "I have more experience."

"But you are down right now," she replied back, equally as dry.

He grinned--which made Fumihiko frown, before standing up abruptly on his feet, throwing Fumihiko sprawling on the floor and stopped Aloin's whips with bare hands. He plucked both guns and aimed at both girls in a single click.

A deep rumble--close to annoyance--crawled out from Aloin's throat. The other one stared back with widened eyes, a star between her fingers.

"Silly me," he shook his head, looking at them both with a crease between his eyebrows. "I am Olag Vassily and I am tasked to bring you two to our meeting."

"Meeting?" Amaya echoed.

"Yes, meeting. Just one more person and I hope you two are not completely clueless, knows too much, or scared of everything like the others," he rolled his eye to himself, one more covered with a black patch--like a pirate. "I plan to be polite and friendly. But who am I kidding? They're teenagers."

"What meeting?"

"Keep your weapons, and follow me," he tilted his head and kept his guns. Olag muttered things to himself, then slowly carved a smile by his lips. Aloin and Amaya looked at each other, obliging and following his lead into the tree. Aloin's thigh still slowed her down than usual, wincing at the sight of the scar. "Be friends, don't attack each other."

"Aloin," the way Amaya said it was slow and pressed, her forehead crinkled with effort. She then gave a small smile. "I like your belt."

"You like glitter?" she raised a brow.

"I like the purple."

"Oh," she nodded, still unsure of what was going on. "Uh, I like your hair."

"This?" she touched the roots of it--like a spoon through fine sugar, slightly brushing the leaves above. "I like it shorter."

"We can discuss all that later," Olag commented.

"We are building friendship here," the French dismissed. "Isn't that what you said?"

"Can I touch your... string?" she eyed it with interest. "It's like a, uh--" she spoke in a foreign language, then continued. "Worm. It looks like a worm."

"It's a whip, and yes," she normally would never let anyone smear their unworthy dirty hands on her beautiful prized weapons, but this girl was close to bringing her down. Maybe she's worthy.

"If I can touch your...stars."