#futurestuck

“I know, I know, I just gotta say bye to Majken.” Renkie waved Ixalia off. She had to give a final congratulations to the gal for her concert on imperial broadcast. That stuff got publicity like nobody’s business! “Like, give me two minutes, top- HUGH!” Ixalia chucked the set of armor in Renkie’s face, the cuspblod almost falling off her chair. She didn’t like wearing it, truth be told. It was so dull and boring. She didn’t really need the extra protction, she could whether some pain. Worse, though, it made her blend in with everyone else. She hated that the most about the threshecutioners; They were so uniform. They’d allowed her to keep the piercings, but the body paint was banned, as was the neon makeup she had. 

She huffed and gave Majken a real goodbye, then started pulling on the lame uniform. Ixalia, despite complaints about having to put on her own by herself, helped with all the clasps and the rank pin on the shoulder. It was the mark of a threshecutioner trainee, one of many. They made those marks of honor by the dozens; It was the higher rank badges that came in limited supply. Renkie and Ixalia both had their eyes on those. That was where glory and real combat would be found.

Luckily, they were well on their way. Every night of physical training, the blood-sisters excelled. Theirs was the best spar records, and their physical tests were all impeccable. Their preparations had served them well.

The real challenge came in another form. 

Renkie barely managed to pull her blood-sister down when a knife flew their way, bouncing off the steel wall with a soft tink. One of many recruits hoping to wean competition while the ceremonies were still sweeps off, with people still untrained and fresh. It was all off the records, but there was no doubt the instructors knew. If anything, they seemed amused by the fervorous fighting to be worthy of defending the mighty empress.