Trigger Warning

Nine

(7 years earlier)

Sweat dripped from Amara's forehead and splattered against the blue sparring mat. Across from her, Silas was breathing heavily. His face was flushed and tank top drenched.

With a grin, she commented, "If you need a break, pretty boy, the water coolers always waiting."

"Oh, don't bait me, Mars." He cocked his head at an angle, "Pretentious bitches aren't really as cute as Hollywood makes them out to be."

"Hypocrite," she twirled the oak training sticks she'd been given and breathed in the scent of sweat and blood.

They had apparently already begun to sort the group of thirty testers, because a third of the people who had been there the week beforehand, at the beginning of testing, were gone. That meant that Kara upgraded the remaining people to non-lethal weapons with a promise that they would move to after they learn to incorporate their abilities with their fighting.

Amara's hair was plastered uncomfortably to her neck and back. Silas could see her stomach muscles shifting as she breathed. Really, it was all he could do not to stare at her standing there in just a sports bra and running shorts.

Silas raised an eyebrow, asking, "Are you insinuating that I'm a pretentious bitch or that I'm cute?"

A muscle in her forearm jumped as Amara adjusted her grip on the sticks. She smirked, slow and sexy, despite the perspirant that was still dripping down her face. "A little bit of both, actually, Sy."

Just as the Ren boy opened his mouth to give a piquant response, another distinctly masculine voice cut into the conversation.

"You know, the point of sparring is to actually fight. Though, I'm sure chatting over tea is about the same thing."

Amara glanced at the boy. His grin exploded over his face, painting itself blithely into his caramel colored eyes. He stood just taller than her, but Amara guessed still two inches shorter than Silas.

"Amara Withers," Sy indicated her, "this is my cousin, Alec Ren."

Alec held a fist out to her; she reluctantly bumped with her own, explaining, "I hate tea."

He mock gasped, straightening himself out in a way that clearly showed his muscles beneath his forest green t-shirt. "What kind of crazed individual doesn't like tea?"

She chuckled, shaking her head, "Obviously this one."

"You're obviously not from around here, then," Alec narrowed his eyes analytically. "You carry way too many knives in the open to have ever been a city girl. How many farmers have you ever met that wear all black--"

"West Virginia." she supplied. "I've always kind of had a fondness for sharp pointy things."

Alec crossed his arms and took in everything from her pale grey eyes to her athletic frame to even her collarbone that didn't so much stick out, as much as everything around them concaved inwardly. She had elegant shoulders and her hips flared out into a curve. She had a look about her that said she should be wearing long formal ball gowns and lipstick, but she had an attitude that screamed that would never happen.

"I can respect that." he replied, taking a training stick from Silas and giving it a mindless twirl. "But as Kara says," he pitched his voice higher to mimic the training instructor, "We don't care about your dazzling personalities, we need to know your strength. Can you fight or not?"

She shrugged, tossing her training stick into the air and catching it. "Won't know until you try,"

"Fair enough." He surged towards her, swinging the weapon in a smooth motion, but missed as she barrel-rolled out of the way. She used her momentum to pull herself back to her feet and ducked under his next swing, thrusting an elbow into his ribcage.