Xion eagerly approached the entrance to the temple. His hand rested eagerly on the hilts of his two long swords, but it was only one that he was interested in using. Grinning widely at the entrance, he pushed his cloak back to reveal the hilts of his blade. On wrapped in typically dark leather, the other woven of a thin but strong black string, the images of skulls carefully imprinted in the pommel. His feet made nary a sound and his capes whispered softly as he swiftly moved down a hall and found himself in the main entrance.

"Veronna," His voice was low, but he knew very well that she heard. For gods new when they were being summoned, "I request an audience with the lady of blades. I assure you I shall not be a waste of your time." His confidence was obvious, but he felt it was not misplaced. His mind filled with possible outcomes of this experience, each appearing better than the last, and all benefitting him. He would not try and hide his intentions from a god. She and he knew full well that he was in this for no god's pleasure, he was doing everything for himself, and such a trait would prove him loyal, as he would not do anything to anger a god. Such a mistake would be abandon of his own life. His hand caressed the hilt of his new sword.

Why would not the tiredness leave her alone? Over the last couple days Veronna had found herself exhausted and tired, with out reason. It almost felt as if something was draining her of her strength, which could be caused by having to take care of a child all the time, though since Vaoulrah was no longer an infant she did not need to be watched over every second.

Veronna stood in her private arena, panting after getting done with several drills with her scimitar. For a normal mortal you would be panting, but she should not be. She had done these drills several times, so her muscles and body were use to them. Her scimitars started to feel heavy in her hands. She was near a wall, so she dropped one of her scimitars and placed the now free hand against the wall, holding her quivering body. The sweat on her forehead and arms was cold, along with her skin. Her eyes held none of the fire they should have. She wore her simple dark red tunic with black pants today, not feeling like putting on her leather armor and form fitting breaches.

She was hardly aware when someone entered the temple, until the person called out to her. She did not recognize this man, it was someone who had never come to see her before. She could feel his emotions now, and she fed off them, the confidence in him was ready to be crushed. She normally did not think like this, and she could not explain why she would start now.

But she felt ready for a battle, the urge to fight someone strong. And soon she realized this gave her strength, which made no sense to her, but she needed the strength right now and so she excepted it greatly. She picked up the scimitar she had dropped and sheathed it, along with the one she had been holding. She went through a couple different doors and was heading down to the first floor, to where she sensed this person was at.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and went down a few hallways until she saw him. She did not try and sneak around him to surprise him like what she normally did, instead she stood there, watching him. "Vendui." Her greeting was dark, her eyes also holding something dark within their blood red depths.

Xion cocked an eyebrow as the god made her appearance. He had surmised that he had interrupted her training. Sweat glistened from her skin and she appeared to be dressed quite informally. Last time he had looked upon the god he was gazing from a distance, and her belly was round as she was with child, but now she was yet again in near-perfect form, her stomach smoothed out to the perfection only a god could reach so easily. "You do well in your fitness. Better than all those female warriors who bear children. Although it appears I have caught you at a disadvantageous time."

"Ventui," He returned the greeting, his smile spreading ever wider. He now looked upon a swordsman that could surely master himself, and it excited him to think of the lessons he may learn from a meeting with such a figure. His hand gently pet the hilt of his new sword, 'Lightbane' as he looked upon the flustered god. She was cold and obviously in no mood for much banter, and he took this in stride. "My lady, I do wish to do nothing more than learn from you as I fight," He wished to banish her cold thinking so that she was in no rush to end the fight before he could learn a single flaw to his style, "I do not wish to be defeated utterly and learn nothing from the experience, so I hope that you choose to spare me a swift defeat. I assure you that I shall fight with the intentions of killing you to provide more of a challenge for yourself. Of course, I also do this so that I may see my own weaknesses in my defeat."

He entwined his thin fingers around the hilt of his sword and smoothly drew it from his side. It exited with smooth silence and he held it firmly in place, his hand resting on the other longsword latched to his side. "Lightbane is my newest weapon, and I do so wish to see how it fares in battle." He smoothly held it out to the side and bowed low, "That is, of course, if the lady of blades wishes to fight." His smile quickly faded as he focussed on making the weapon a part of himself, and as he rose from his bow he brought it to his chest level and held it horizontal, allowing it's obsidian-black blade to reflect the torches in the room blue.

This man, like many before him, wanted to spar to find their weaknesses. Something she normally did not mind, but she was worried she would end the battle too soon. Well, she would just have to make herself go slow. Something inside of her urged her forward, something that allowed her strength to return when the thought and feel of battle finding it's way into her mind and body. Obviously this man sensed that she was in no mood for long conversation and cut to the chase, unsheathing his new sword, Veronna studying it's obsidian blade with her eyes, seeing that it was indeed a wicked blade.

She let a smile on to her face, but not the sweet, caring one she gave her daughter. This smile would make the poor child cry if she ever saw her mother looking like this. The smile showed that she eagerly wished for battle, her eyes flashing with something that looked close to excitement. "I will take you up on your offer, please, follow me, I don't believe we want to spar here in the hall." She gestured for him to follow her down another hall, which ended with a wooden door. She opened the door and walked in to the arena, it's size pretty fair, big enough for at least two to spar in.

Veronna walked further in, the torches lighting as she entered, giving the room plenty of light to see while fighting. There was a glaive laying in the middle of the room and she picked it up and put it back in the rack where it belong. "Like you said in the hallway, fight as though you wish to kill me. Nothing can hurt me. But I will fight you just as vigorously." She said, assuming he followed her here.

"Also, do you use two blades or one?" She asked, unsheathing her scimitars, their black metal shining in the light, nearly as much as this man's obsidian blade. But these blades were sharper, and it was very apparent that they could through almost anything.

(Blah, crappy post...Sorry...)

Xion nodded at the goddesses’ decision. Quickly yet lovingly glancing at his blade he smoothly returned it to his sheath and took up following the god. The door opened to reveal an arena, and even in the dark Xion's keen sight could make out its fair size, easily large enough for the two to fight it out. The light revealed the room completely, and Xion smiled and wrapped his thin fingers around the hilts of his weapons, standing at the door and taking it all in. He walked confidently out to the middle of the arena and to the left a bit.

As he turns and face the god, he heard her question and thought it over. " Generally I fight with one blade to get a measure of my opponent, but as I am fighting a god there is no need for that." Both blades silently flew from their well-greased sheathes and took the offensive to both sides, the sharp tips settling on the floor. "I assume that the arena is childproof? I would hate to have an interruption in my lesson, as sometimes, and I will admit, I get quite caught up in the dance and the singular opponent that I may not notice an infant cross my path. I mean no harm to your child, it is merely a precaution of a flaw that I am quite aware of."

He shifted his feet on the floor to make out just how much grip he would have, and he was satisfied. Xion enjoyed the capabilities to slide his feet around during his dizzying dance, and it was quite the spectacle for those watching as he rotated, his feet sliding as if of their own accord. One blade, Draguldrake was poised above his head, pointing to the god, while the other was just below his bent knee, pointing in the same direction. This was going to be quite enjoyable, he was sure.

Veronna watched as he drew two blades, both coming from their scabbards smoothly. She smiled at his comment about using two blades, for she was always taught that two blades did not always mean better. She had to train day in and day out to become ambidextrous, unlike those few who naturally could wield two weapons. No matter what though, she was still better then any of them, with one blade or two. Sword or bow. It took her a great while to become confident in herself, that she was better than most people, but she never rubbed it in anyone's face. She was like a teacher to most, showing them their flaws and helping them fix those flaws. She was rarely a competitor.

"Do not worry, Vaoulrah is only almost three and cannot descend the stairs from my private chambers. And she cannot open the door up there either, for she is still too short." Veronna explained, wondering why this sort of man would care about a child. She could tell he was evilly aligned, which did not irritate her in any, she had no quarrel with those who sided with evil, because she also use to be of that alignment.

But that was enough thinking, her body urged her to begin the battle, urged her to attack. Veronna had more self control than to go and attack right then. No, she placed herself in front of this man, and his weapons that were pointed at her. She held her scimitars loosely at her sides, watching him and not his swords. Most people always made that mistake; of watching the blades and not the person. After over one hundred years, Veronna learned her lessons about that, and paid the consequences dearly for her mistakes.

She pulled up her scimitars, her left one held horizontal across her waist, just inches away. While her right one was held at an angle, it's blade going past her face diagonally, it's point towards the ceiling. Her eyes burned with a dark fire, anticipation for the battle to start building up in her. But she would wait. She preferred to defend the first bit, because it gave her time to find weak points in her opponent.