“Careful, Brother, or I may end up wrapping this barbell around your scrawny little neck,” Mitara grunted as she pressed the weighted bar over her chest. Her drenched sweat suit hid a mass of muscle, something her unusually thick frame carried with ease compared to most other teen females. It had been six years since she had come to be a Newelle, and Psidias and herself had religiously kept up their workout regiment over that time.
“Excellent!” Psidias called out with encouragement as he helped her place the bar back on it's perch above her head. He was three years her senior, but they had developed a bond early on. He would tease her ruthlessly as they would compare musculature, commenting on how all the guys wish they were built as nicely as she. It was something he could do to make light of his own body, forever riddled with sickness, he had still managed to maintain some amount of tone, though it paled compared to hers.
Mitara wiped her brow with a towel, “I'm looking forward to this weekends tourney. I think we have a very good chance of defeating the Okuden Dojo.”
“This is the last year Sensei says you can participate in mixed classes, Mitara. The other dojos don't think it is proper for you to be competing against boys still, no matter how well you carry yourself. We'll have to look a lot harder for competitions on this station. What will Mother think?” he joked as he put on the kicking and hand practice pads.
“Planet-side is where the action is at, besides, Mother is busy grooming Anna,” her smirk hiding some of the hurt she felt that her mother did not think of her as worthwhile for all the normal lessons of grace and etiquette normally required of young ladies. “It is not Mitara's lot to be a proper lady, Pious, let us concentrate our efforts on the one that actually looks and acts like a woman,” she had heard these words on more than one occasion when Pious would try and challenge his wife to no avail. She frowned and looked down for a moment at her chest that had just barely begun to bloom.
Psidias, obviously wanting his partner to attack with zeal commented, “You'll have larger bumps than those this weekend if you keep sitting on your rump, let's get to it!” Mitara flew off the bench launching a flurry of strikes trying to get inside the guard of her brother, by God's Grace his longer reach kept her at bay.
* * *
Five late teen Amarrian girls started towards the lift, one of them addressing the lady of the house.
”We are off to the atrium now, Mother, I'll be back before dinner.” Anna bowed the perfect amount in response to her Mother's nod of approval. She, along with her friends, looked as examples of all that is proper, and aesthetically pleasing in Amarrian women. Their hair done articulately, clothes and makeup modest, yet flattering enough to catch the eye. Mitara watched their slender forms flow gracefully towards the lift with a hint of envy. Anna stopped short of the lift and turned back to face her sister, an uncommon occurrence to say the least.
“Why don't you come with us for a change, Mitara?” Anna said with convincing honesty. A couple of hushed snickers from her friends were silenced by a friendly wave of her hand.
Mitara nearly dropped the Naval Operations and Procedures book that belonged to her father. Her weight shifted suddenly, unbalancing the tome on her lap at her sister's address. “Umm. I don't know, Anna, I mean...”
“Nonsense, change into something...” Anna looked at her sister up and down, not entirely confident, “...something suitable, and join us.”
Mitara feeling the pressured gazes of the elder teens upon her nodded and disappeared into her room and donned one of her best church 'suits'. It was the closest thing she had to what could be considered casual dress ware, with the added illusion of making her seem less bulky. She quickly joined the crew of girls, who all gave relatively genuine nods of approval at her selection, and they all headed out.
The atrium was an expansive green space, the only one on the station orbiting Karan VIII. It was the social hub for all residents, young and old alike. The many tree arrangements, hedge mazes, and smattering of small ponds broke the area up nicely to give privacy to those who desired it enough. The gathering of teens centered around one of the hedge mazes could have been mistaken for Court. All the subtleties and intrigue of the Holder's Court, practiced here, by the youth of Amarr.
Mitara followed a step or two behind the older girls as they wove their way through the crowd, stopping to mingle here and there. She said nothing, but listened intently to all the conversations she could hear, filing away bits of information that could someday prove useful, such is the Amarrian way. After some time, Anna and her group began to disperse, each further engaging on some rather important topic of the day, seen through a teenager's eyes anyway. Mitara began to wander through the hedge maze, enjoying the quiet of it, having concentrated so to the voices just moments before. It wasn't long before she came upon another group of wandering teens, three Amarr boys, about the same age as she.
The boy at the head of their formation smiled brightly at Mitara, “Salve, lovely and serene isn't it?”
Mitara smiled awkwardly back, “Indeed it is.”
The lead boy motioned to his friends who both bowed slightly to her, “May my friends and I accompany you, miss?” He chuckled a bit, “I tire of their same boring conversation.” The other two laughed at their friends jab.
She laughed as well, trying to cover her nervousness, “How very gentlemanly of you, I'd be honored.”
Mitara joined the boys as they meandered without a care through the maze. The boys seemed quite pleased that she seemed willing to join in their talk of sports, politics, the history of some local heredity, and the less civilized races of the cluster. She actually found herself enjoying their company, something she hadn't expected.
“I still find it fascinating that to this day there are still some Ni-Kunni enslaved”, commented Hami, the first boy that spoke to her, after some time speaking of the Minmatar.
She shrugged, “I think that is due more to low station than devotion to our Lord.”
All three boys laughed, one of the others quipped, “What lowly foul station would warrant that?”
“Some kind of gutter rat I suppose!” chuckled another.
“Yes, something that crawls out of a sewer I'd imagine,” something in Hami's tone didn't sound quite right to Mitara, but she dismissed it as nothing, until he spoke again. Now his voice was full of malice and loathing, “Something that would crawl out of a sewer and try to pretend it could be Amarr! Something like you, hmm, Mitara?” Hami stepped in front of her, his bright smile now showing underlying dark intent.
“You will not speak to me in such a manner,” she growled back.
“I will speak to you however I wish, you Ni-Kunni trash!” Hami drew his hand back, readying to backhand her across the face. Her two palm thrusts, one to his lip, bloodying it, and the other to his chest sent him reeling back instead. Mitara didn't register the roaring laughter coming from behind, her total focus now on Hami.
Hami cursed as he spit onto the path, his saliva mingled with blood. “You damned slave line bitch! You want to play with the boys do you? I'll wipe that damned smirk off you face, oh yes!”
Mitara said nothing, but smoothly fell into a 'Jigotai', a defensive stance, her eyes never leaving her opponent.
Hami chuckled to his friends who were still enjoying his misfortune, “She thinks she knows a thing or two!”, his gaze set upon her, “Let's see what you really know!” He fell into a simple forward offensive stance, or 'Mae', and did so sloppily and without discipline Mitara thought to herself.
His crude strike met with a precision hip toss, landing him on his back, with a kick to the gut for good measure. The other two Amarrian boys doubled over in laughter, slapping their knees.
Hami sprang to his feet with a new found vigor, and glared at Mitara with hate. He was so easily goaded by a simple raised eyebrow that spoke clearly, “Have you started yet?”
The one sided melee continued while the two onlookers realized their man was starting to get really hurt, at which point their laughter stopped.
Mitara had just deflected another poorly executed blow by Hami when both of her arms were caught. Not a second later did a furiously thrown right hook meet with her temple, sending her dizzily towards blackness. As the two that restrained her let her fall to the ground, she felt a splatter of spit hit her cheek and heard the laughter of all three as they walked off. “Neanderthal Ni-Kunni,” one of them said as all went silent.
* * *
She cracked her neck, letting the mouth guard settle into place. Psidias was adjusting her uniform, and shook his head at her slightly swollen left cheek.
“Are you sure you are alright to do this? I mean, it's only been a couple days.”
“I'm fine,” she nodded, slamming her gloves together. She looked past Psidias to her brothers Habib and Kaleb, then to her father Pious, who looked at her sternly and nodded his best wishes.
“Show them all that you mean business, 'Tara!” Psidias shouted as she stepped up and onto the mat.
She walked with her head down, jiggling her arms to loosen them. When she arrived at her ready position, she exhaled and assumed her preferred Jigotai. When she raised her eyes and met her opponent's, she smirked with glee.
Standing across from her was an Amarrian boy, about her age, with a recently cut lip, and sudden doubt in his eyes.
“God favors the righteous,” she thought to herself smugly.
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