Her muscles had become almost lax in the months since her move here. Chosing more often then not to avoid the general population, she knew that she needed to get out more often. So for a night out, she went to a place where she could school her mind, and her body.
The dojo was the perfect place. It was just past twilight, and a few people milled around the dojo, training, talking, amusing themselves. But Khasa was away from them, in a corner. Her dark hair was falling from the tight bun, the loose strands falling over her green eyes. The silver clip around the bun was etched in ancient writings. Her nails weren't colored, and where broken, and bitten. She wore simple black dobock pants, and a red tank top, with lines of darker red going down the length of it.
Her bare feet slipped easily across the floor in a simple choreo form, and her eyes were focused on the strength-motion moves. She had decided to do the form strength motion to simply work on the form itself. Her eyes, while focused, seemed troubled, worried. Though at first, the pale girl looked as though she was fine, her cheeks seemed hollow, her hands almost too cold, and her eyes sunken in. Breath slipped through her her pale lips, pale to the point of no color.
She moved softly, without hesitation. As the form continued, her eyes closed, and she let the form take her away.
Aaron strutted into the Dojo's training area. He had taken to strutting two and a half months ago, when he attained control over General Motors, by purchasing the 10,000 shares that would make him the single largest share hold associated with the company at 51% ownership. He was vaguely aware of the other people staring at him, some laughing. Apparently they believed he was ''just a kid'' and didn't deserve the right to enter their ''precious dojo.'' He longed for his once-mortal existance, but these humans seemed to constantly wear on his already thinning patience these days. The truth was, he could take every person currently in the dojo, should they wish for a demonstration of his worth. None would approach him.
As if by magic, a woman appeared out of nowhere in the far corner of the padded training area. Aaron couldn't help noting her beauty on an unconcious level. His tastes tended to lead him to the stereo-typical Barbies, but on occasion... rare, occasion, he found himself infatuated with other women. Without thought, Aaron engaged the woman, as she flowed from form to form. He had to meet her, and this, he thought would be the way. He instantly knew there was something... different, about this woman. Then suddenly it hit him. In the brief, sliver of a second that he hesitated, the dark-haired woman knocked his legs out from under him, and he lay, spread eagle on the ground. The pads were not as soft as they appeared when one was simply strolling across the training ground.
He quickly pushed himself to his feet, almost flying from the ground, and engaged the woman again. She landed a punch, then another, and another. He smiled to himself, and licked the blood from his split lip, she was tougher than she looked. Moments before the mystery vampire landed a kick to his strong jaw bone, he jumped back and put his hands in the air in mock surrender.
''I surrender,'' he panted, lifting his wife-beater to his face, and wiping the sweat from his brow, he liked wearing the wife-beater, scrubs combination, because it flaunted his flawless form, ''you're better than you look. I'm Aaron, and if I'm not mistaken, there is something other than the dojo that we have in common.''
He noted the shocked look on her face, and smiled again. Surely she wasn't surprised that he knew her secret. She knew his secret... didn't she? Well, she did now, anyway. She couldn't think that a mortal would be strong enough to reamin whole after sparring with an immortal. He cracked his fingers, and toes, rather loudly, wiped his hand on his scrubs, to make sure they weren't clammy, and offered his hand. They shook hands, gazing into one-another's eyes for what seemed like hours before he gave her hand back.
''If you aren't busy later, as I'm sure you aren't,'' he smiled when a shocked look appeared on her face, ''I'd like to take you out for a couple drinks. I'll give you my number. If, and when you decide you want to go out, call me up.''
With that he turned, and walked this time, out of the training area, and into the change room, where he showered, and got dressed. Though he looked like some sort of kid trying too hard, in his wife-beater, and scrubs, when he donned his Brioni silk shirt, and Armani dress pants, he looked as suave, and dignified, as a 70 year old man, which, in a way, he was. He took his beeping Blackberry out of his briefcase, and slammed his locker shut.
''Shit!''
He was late for his very important meeting with a business accquaintence. He wouldn't be surprised when someone asked why he was never seen outside his dark office during the day, and why he insisted on meeting past sun-down. But hopefully, this night would not be the night questions started being asked.
The whole ordeal had been quite interesting, to her at least. Khasa would be the first to admit that she didn't actually met that many vampires, and more then that, didn't have encounters with them. She had seen many others, true, but never talked or fought with any besides Lex really. "Like two ships passing in the night" could really explain her vamperic encounters. The training had been kind to her, and luckily, she had found an target that wouldn't whine or cry when she hit him. She had known his secret, the shock was more out of that he would speak about it.
It would seem to her that the only word to explain him right off would have been cocky. Very cocky. He looked younger then her, but she looked younger then the age she was reborn at as well. Younger as though he might be, he also seemed older then her as well. He was light on his feet. Many vampires she knew or seen had been vampire light, yes, but certainly not fighter light. He had been a fighter light. As she walked over to where she had set a water bottle, she sipped it, as a mortal would who had just been practicing. Truthfully, she didn't know why she bothered, but it seemed better to blend then not to blend. Reaching behind her, she unclipped the silver clasp from the bun in her hair, and it fell down around her shoulders in a cascade of darkness. She shook it out as she walked towards the changing rooms, contemplating the number in her hand.
The room was blissfully empty, and Khasa threw open a locker to drop her stuff in as she showered. The number went into a small bag at the bottom of the locker before she turned to a shower. Stepping into the warm spray, a slight groan excaped her as she rolled her neck. She may have been warmed up, but it didn't mean that her muscles weren't tense from all that time she had been lazy and not working out. When the water ran cold, she stepped out, and after drying off, pulled on her more comfortable clothes from her bag. Black jeans that hugged her hips, with a simple bootcut flare to them, an light purple silk shirt that slid over her head and down her body, the sleeves long enough to fall over her hands in bells. Simple shoes, black as well, with a heel and tied around her ankle.
Brushing out her hair before tying it back into a bun, she headed out once again, a bag slung over her shoulder, full of her gym stuff, and a number in her mind, which, grinning softly, she would find out all she had to about this man. She saw him, in the distance ahead of her, and smiled, following him from this distance, to see at least, where this interesting character worked and spent his waking hours.
