nature versus nurture (merik) (fin)

[Nairore]

x x

Nairore stood on the outskirts of the festival, watching the crowds milling together. People of every shape and culture were there, interacting, yet there was a very clear class divide. The nobles interacted with each other and seemed to completely ignore the lower classes, while the lower classes had themselves a blast enjoying the festivities, not even caring that the nobles were throwing them the cold shoulder. Those icy blue eyes scanned the crowd idly, wondering if her father was there somewhere. A man of his rank would, no doubt, need to make an appearance, but it certainly didn't seem like the kind of place you'd find him.

Nairore wasn't entirely sure why she was there. On the outskirts, arms crossed under her chest and leaning against one of the many carriages that were parked in the darkness that night. A familiar clank approached her from behind as a patrol of Hylian Knights made their rounds. This time the clanking of their armor was a little out of sync, and the chatter coming from them told the Gerudo woman that the trio of guards were indulging in the festivities themselves. Mostly idle chatter about girls they'd spotted, crude talk about the women.

Then one of them noticed her and pointed to her. The clank of armor brought them closer until Nairore was forced to acknowledged their presence. She turned and looked at them as they circled around her, but she didn't say anything, didn't even uncross her arms. She preferred not to interact with the Knights when it wasn't necessary. Their opinion of her was quite clear in the hushed voices they thought she couldn't hear. Zenethil said they were jealous, but that didn't make their words any less true.

"If it ain't daddy's little girl," one of the Knights said to her. He even had the gall to carry a tankard openly. Nairore raised an eyebrow but still didn't say anything. "Look, boys, she isn't too good to show up after all!" the same Knight said and clapped one of his brothers-in-arm on the pauldron.

"Come here lookin' for some fun, I bet, gal like her," another Knight chipped in. He'd at least drank his share before returning to patrol.

"Oh I could show her some fun, if she's really looking for it," the third and final Knight said, clearly the drunkest of the patrol. He stepped forward and his movements announced that he was going to lay his hands on her. Narore watched his footing carefully as he reached out. Her arms uncrossed and she batted his arm away, her foot slipping forward with ease and hooking his own unsteady one, pulling it out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud, getting a laugh from his friends.

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[Merik Dragmire]

(For a look at Merik's festival-wear, click here)

The tournament had Merik provided a small amount of entertainment, a good look at some of his rival's abilities, and a few more rupees for his treasury. But now that it was over and his wounds had been taken care of by the Fairies, he found that he had nothing left to do for the rest of the festival.

"Probably spend the next two days in our encampment unless a call comes out for the leaders." he grumbled as he finished redressing in his nobler attire and set back out into the grounds.

The King wandered the grounds alone watching how the other races went about their night but making attempt to interact. After wasting a bit of time and buying a few gifts for his sisters he decided to return to his tent. Avoiding the various guards that patrolled he made his way past some of the carriages when a group of voices caught his attention. Stepping around a carriage he found three drunk Knights verbally assaulting a young woman. Though it was none of his business he found he was on the verge of teaching the Knights some respect as he really didn't like to see a woman in distress like that. Those thoughts were quickly put to rest when she immediately dropped one of the Knights to the ground.

Hmmmm, not bad...this could prove a bit more interesting afterall... he thought with a smirk as he stepped back to watch how things unfolded.

[Nairore]

x x

Whether it was his friends laughing at him or the fact that he had been so easily grounded, the drunkest of the Knights was not pleased. He punched the ground and scrambled to his feet. The glare he gave to Nairore was enough to shut up his two buddies, and would probably frighten most little children. But Nairore just stared back, almost daring him to come at her. "Sand-blooded bitch," he spat. "Gerudo whore, you'll regret that!" With a cry of rage and spittle he swung his clenched fist at her.

Nairore knew better than to be caught off guard by a drunk. His fist sailed through the air and she easily pushed it aside with a slap from her right hand, her left hand coming in for a quick jab that immediately caused blood to gush from the Knight's nose. He stumbled backward from the sheer suddenness of the jab, but his friends weren't going to stand by. One caught the drunk while the other Knight, who was remarkably more sober and thus aware, tried to grab Nairore.

She turned to meet him in his charge. She easily knocked aside his grabbing hands, but with his senses about him he turned the charge into a shoulder block, in an attempt to ground her. Once inside his guard, however, Nairore brought her elbow up easily to smash him in the jaw then sidestep out of the way as he fell to the ground. Beating up drunks was far too easy for her, there wasn't even a challenge. She watched the man roll around on the ground as the first drunk recollected himself.

Apparently his senses had completely abandoned him between the rage and the alcohol, as he pulled a small knife. Nairore cocked an eyebrow at him and his friend even had the decency to object, to try and stop the man. He didn't listen, however, and mounted a knife fighter's stance, approaching her with much more care than he had before. Nairore didn't even offer him a stance of her own, standing just as she was and watching him carefully. "You don't want to do anything you'll regret," she said calmly.

"Heh, the whore's afraid. You should be. I'm going to cut the life from you!" the drunken Knight, if he could be called that for the overabundance of honor he seemed to lack, said and then took a swipe. Nairore's hand shot out and grabbed the knife easily, while her other hand found his wrist and twisted it. His grip loosed on the blade and it fell into Nairore's possession. She flipped it over in her hands, her palm sliced where she had caught it but she seemed completely unaware, or simply didn't care. With a calm grace the knife was stabbed into the man's thigh and she let go of his wrist, causing him to topple over cursing.

The other scrapper at this point figured he had the jump on her. On his feet while she dealt with his friend, he moved in slowly and tried to grab her suddenly. Just as he was about to ambush her she threw a back elbow straight into his throat, grabbed one of his now-flailing arms, threw her weight backward and pulled, flipping the man clear over her shoulder and onto the ground by his stabbed comrade. The man writhed and coughed, struggling to find breath. Nairore looked up to the only standing guard, who knew better than to test her at that point. "Get them treated for their injuries, find a new patrol to take their place and maybe I won't report the three of you," she said bluntly before turning on her heel and walking away from the carriage, away from the Festival, the only sign she had even been in a fight being the blood dripping from her hand.

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[Merik Dragmire]

If Merik was only slightly interested at the start of the little encounter, the guards made sure they had his full attention when they called the woman a Gerudo. He watched her carefully as she swiftly dealt with the Knights, searching for any of the defining signs of his people.

Well she certainly handles herself like a Gerudo though the light makes it too difficult to get a clear look at her... he thought as the fight continued, smirking a little as she grabbed one of the guard's knives by the blade without any thought before finishing off the match. Well we aren't the only ones that can withstand pain but we are the only ones that would knowingly take the attack for an advantage...

As she walked away he easily fell into step behind her, making no attempts at stealth as he just followed for a few moments before speaking.

"Impressive, not how I would have done it but impressive none the less. Oh and I'm not certain if you've noticed yet but you are wounded...barely but you are."

[Nairore]

x x

Nairore heard the man coming up behind her quite easily. She also listened as he followed behind her. She really didn't know where she was going, but she knew it was away from the Festival. And, in all earnest, she was itching for another fight. The drunks were merely a warm-up, and now her heart was pumping in such a way that she was eager for more. She closed her vibrant blue eyes, eyes that caught any light and glowed almost magically, and took a deep breath. There was no need to deck the guy just because he was following behind her.

Then the man spoke. He had watched the fight, that was clear. Commenting on her fighting ability, how he wouldn't have fought the same way. Nairore could have easily walked away from that fight without the slash on her hand, but she wanted a challenge. She had purposefully lowered her guard several times to give them openings, to allow them to press. Yet that fight had ended in a complete disappointment. She grunted in response to the man's comment, looking down at the blood dripping from her fingers. "It's merely a flesh wound, nothing serious," she said as she examined it.

Was that all the stranger wanted? To comment on her fight and remark about how he'd have done things differently? Nairore didn't care that much, not even enough to turn around and look at the man who was shadowing her. "If that is all you wanted to say, move on. I tend to attract trouble," she said, knowing full well she was at risk of being jumped by many more Knights rallied up by the guys she had just fought. The Knights all stuck together, and would love the excuse to teach her a lesson, or, more simply, get revenge for all the embarrassment they suffered at her hands.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik chuckled as the woman looked at her wounded hand and brushed it off as unimportant. He was still hoping for a better look at her but she still had yet to turn and face him...and it seemed like she might not do so as she tried to give him the brush off as well.

Well her attitude towards men is certainly that of a Gerudo... he thought with an unseen grin before responding.

"It's not just you that has a tendency to attract trouble, I believe it is something that has passed down through generations of Gerudo...if in fact those drunken fools were correct and you are actually one of the desert dwellers; the lighting isn't perfect but from what I can see you don't look like any Gerudo I've ever seen." the King said as he adjusted his hat, still getting used to its feel so different from his usual headwear. "And I'll move on when I'm finished, not a moment sooner."

[Nairore]

x x

It caused Nairore to stop, though perhaps not for the best. The woman had been raised to ignore her Gerudo heritage, to hide it as much as possible. While she could never outright deny it, she was raised to think of it as an imperfection. Needless to say it wasn't exactly the best ice breaker for the man to use. Her unharmed hand clenched into a fist, the knuckles popping, though she kept it to her side, kept herself from swinging while she turned.

Instead she just turned.

Vibrant blue eyes looked the man up and down. The desert clothing was easily recognizable, considering the amount of time she spent with her father and his campaigns against the desert bandits. Perhaps a caravan-er? Maybe he thought she was a mercenary for hire or something. She grunted again, not cracking so much as a pleasant smile or a sweet hello to the man. "I wouldn't look like one of them because I'm not one," she said, practically spitting at the thought. "The only way I'm a Gerudo is because I was born one."

He was arrogant, too, it seemed. Self righteous, full of himself. Most likely the head of his caravan, used to giving out orders and being the center of authority. "I'm no interest to you. You're finished," she said with a not-so-subtle hint that they were done talking.

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[Merik Dragmire]

"A beautiful Gerudo woman..." Merik said before he got his first look at her and how she disguised herself. "...and you choose to hide it away like some dirty secret so you can live among the Hylians."

After he finished he DID spit on the ground as if the words were a poison to him.

"And now that I see you, you are more interesting to me than before. Gerudo born but very clearly not Gerudo raised otherwise you would not look down upon your heritage in this way..." the King growled before indicating her sheathed weapon whose hilt peeked over her shoulder. "...and yet the only weapon you carry is a scimitar; a blade rarely seen carried in Hyrule and one of the two weapons most commonly associated with the Gerudo, I suppose some preferences lie in the blood and not the mind."

[Nairore]

x x

Nairore watched the man speak. The way he spat when he mentioned the Hylians turned her gaze into a glare. "Watch your tongue. My father is a Hylian, he raised me as his own despite my blood or even his own hatred for the Gerudo kin," she scowled, then raised her bleeding hand and let the blood drip onto the ground. "He looked past my dirty blood so easily, I owe him my life, and I would not see anyone insult him or his." Her good hand was still clenched tight as she considered the advantages and disadvantages of punching the man. He hadn't actually invoked an attack, yet, as most others do.

She held her fist to her side and instinctively drew her shoulder away from him as he pointed out her weapon. He wouldn't know what the weapon meant to her, crafted on commission by her father, despite his disdain for the type. It was the type of weapon she excelled with, and he swallowed his own pride to have it made for her in order for her to be the best she could be. It was Gerudo design, but Hylian made, and enchanted by the Hylians with magic to make up for her own lack of. There was far more Hylian in the weapon than there was Gerudo, and that's how she had always seen it.

"What is my blood to you, anyway?" she murmured, considering the man carefully. It was too dark to get a good look at him, but she could make out the golden eyes and the dark skin. An interest in Gerudo either made him one dedicated caravan leader or . . . her hand shot up to the scimitar and pulled it free from her back, the weapon pointed itself at him in the blink of an eye. "Merik Dragmire. You're lucky I can't spill your blood here at the festival," she growled, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

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[Merik Dragmire]

"A little indoctrination goes a long way I suppose. Oh and don't insult my intelligence by acting like you could kill me, if you or any of Zelda's people killed me you'd just be executed to save face and try to prevent another war." Merik said with an even look before turning and pacing side to side in front of her. "So your 'father' raised you alone, has a distinct hatred of the Gerudo, and based on your obvious friendship with some of the younger Knights I'd say there is a connection: So I'm going to guess your father is a Knight and probably served in the war; from the fact it typically takes a lot of effort for our tribe to reproduce I know you weren't simply abandoned; so your father is, or was, one of the Knight Raiders that I had slaughtering innocents and torching their villages along the border and probably after killing your family considered that he might have had something resembling a soul and decided to spare you."

As he paced his hands remained at his side though there was no weapons visible anywhere that he could easily grab.

"So, and this is all assuming that I'm correct in my thoughts, we now have an understanding of why your father has a hatred of the Gerudo but what I want to know is what, if anything, our people have done to you to make you hate them so?"

[Nairore]

x x

He liked to talk, that much was for sure. As he paced side to side she made a point of keeping the sword between them, the point close to him. She knew quite a bit about Merik Dragmire, the King of Thieves and the Gerudo. Her father spent a good portion of his campaign hunting the man down. And here she was, face to face with him. On neutral ground. Ground where there was to be no fighting, no blood spilled. But as Merik had said, if she killed him she'd be executed to prevent outright war anyway. "One head in return for the death of the only male Gerudo? Sounds like a fair price, if you ask me," she said calmly, staring him down.

He was trying some sort of logic on her. She heard him out, as she did anyone. He was remarkably close to home, but it didn't sting. Nairore had no memories of her mother, no attachment whatsoever. The fact was that her father had killed a Gerudo bandit and taken her in instead of leaving her to die. That was how she saw it, that was why she was eternally thankful to her father. And that was why his logic didn't stick. "The Hylian Knights don't slaughter innocents. They protect the trade routes from bandits, pirates and everything that threatens progress and commerce," she stated flatly in rebuttal.

"My father has spent years of his life working to keep those routes safe, looking to stop your menace. He's the Hylian Knight Commander because of that dedication, and if I can take you down I can do him proud," cold, icy eyes glared at him, narrowed, focused. He would be a tough foe, a real challenge, exactly the kind of thing she wanted. "I would be right there by his side if it weren't for my blood. It's been nothing but a hindrance that was forced upon me." She scowled and tightened her grip on her sword, her blood sliding down the length of the blade from the cut in her hand.

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[Merik Dragmire]

"I said your head would be offered in an attempt to prevent the war, not that it would work. We haven't taken kindly to that kind of diplomacy since my grandfather's time." Merik said coldly before bursting into bitter laughter at her comment that the Knight's didn't slaughter innocents. Though that laughter turned a bit mocking when she mentioned her father's position as Knight Commander. "Is that so? Rumor's I've heard tell it that his predecessor went out to sea and never returned; so wouldn't that indicate your father got his job because his former boss never learned to swim, damn easy to move up in the Hylian ranks it seems."

He continued his pacing, enjoying the feeling that she was actually considering trying to attack him, even without him having any way of defending himself. Her final words however, gave him a momentary pause as he realized there was something he could use.

"Yes it is a shame that you can't join him, very cruel in fact if I do say so myself. I mean he clearly raised you to follow in his footsteps as a Knight KNOWING that as a Gerudo you could never truly be one. Even if you managed to disguise yourself the others clearly know the truth and you'd never be let in. I mean in terms of outright cruelty that's like telling a crippled child one day they'll be able to outrun a Sheikah."

[Nairore]

x x

His words were like bile in her ears, and she had to wonder why she didn't just cut him down right there and be done with it. Was it the Festival? She never really had much regard for frivolous rules, though. The diplomacy? No, a small war would be nothing in exchange for the only male Gerudo for the next century. While her sword remained up, she didn't seem to be ready to use it. Why was she letting him talk? It was uncharacteristic. "My father got promoted after his predecessor was killed because he was devote to the cause, worthy of the title, and chosen by Zelda herself. Doesn't take much to be a Gerudo King, though, does it?" she spat the title at him.

His next words, however, cast aside all the thought she previously had toward why she wasn't attacking him. As he spoke of her father she found her line had been crossed. Naurlambe, her scimitar, suddenly burst into a bright flame and she looped it around, bringing her extended arm back in order to allow all her strength to go into a single swiping blow. It was a reckless attack, fueled by the sudden burst of rage, throwing herself behind the attack so that when Merik dodged, as he inevitably would, she would be wide open for a counter attack.

"My father raised me as his own. He had no intention of me being a Knight. It was my choice to take up the sword, and it's my dirty blood that keeps me from joining their ranks. If it weren't for him I wouldn't be who I am today," she argued, though her words lacked conviction. She grabbed on to them, but they felt desperate, like she was scrambling for a rebuttal. She growled at the thought, at Merik, at the situation as a whole. Her cold, piercing gaze stared death upon the other Gerudo.

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[Merik Dragmire]

Merik smiled as she flew off the handle and attacked him. He easily moved around with her sword's swing and upon reaching the end of the swing's arc he snapped out and lightly (relatively) swatted her on the back of her head.

"Come on girl, you know better than to attack in rage, even a Hylian should be able to teach you that; or perhaps..." he trailed off before he started laughing again. "HAHAHAHAHA!!! Nevermind I have completely underestimated your 'father', he took the same route that grandfather did. The Knight's weren't quite making the grade so he stole a Gerudo child, and now that you're grown he can use you to train them to be proper warriors; except the Hylians can't accept being trained by a Gerudo so everything that comes naturally that you show them is basically ignored by the fools."

The King resumed his pacing behind her as he continued contemplating this very interesting situation he had discovered.

"I won't lie to you girl, I really can't see why you bother at all. You try and live secretly as one of the people who hate you despite the fact that you already have enough enemies who know the truth and can safely ensure you'll never be left alone. Of course you could fight every one of them that 'insults' you to try and make a point, but then that would be your Gerudo blood telling you to do that. I suppose the answer is just to be daddy's good little Hylian girl and stop fighting back."

[Nairore]

x x

Merik's relatively light slap was still pretty heavy, enough that it caused the slender female to stumble forward in order to prevent being planted to the ground. She retained her footing and spun around, her sword whooshing as the flames whipped through the air, the fiery weapon finding its place between them once more. She berated herself for making such a fool's mistake; Merik could've just as easily killed her there if he had wanted to. Perhaps he should've, if she was going to be that reckless.

"He took me in out of his own good will, there was no ulterior motive," she hissed, the sword now in a guard position between them instead of extended straight out, the blade pointing skyward at a gentle diagonal tilt. "I am not a means to an end," she muttered, though his words were striking somewhere. She had to admit to herself she shared similar thoughts often in bed at night, alone in the darkness, alone in the world as a Gerudo away from her people. No, they weren't her people.

She waited for Merik to make his next pass as he paced, then threw a spinning roundhouse kick at his head. Should he dodge under it or away from it her spin would bring the fiery sword around in a horizontal slash at chest level, and should he block it or catch her leg he'd be open enough for her sword to slip between his guard with a quick stab. She wouldn't make a fool's mistake again and leave herself open; the initial attack left her weapon open to guard should he turn it into a counter attack. Needless to say she wasn't going to stand by and let him insult her father.

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