Someone keeps making mincemeat of a hologram in the training room. She looks a nightmare, the way she moves - snicker-snack with a blade in the boot and a blade on the hand, here and there, a bright arc of killing trailing behind her blows, flicking in and out of life all around her. It could be a dance - a dangerous one to play partner to, but a dance all the same - but the feverish intensity with which she throws herself at even this false opponent makes it more like a dervish.

Her ragged coat whirls around this thing of scraps as she leaps into the air, flipping over her opponent's "head", and brings herself fists-first straight down onto the holographic figure with a crash, pounding it into the floor hard enough the impact forces its body to bounce off and away before dissolving in a shower of hard light projectiles and "rebooting" back into a stationary position.

Velvet straightens, fists clenched at her sides, shoulders arched and bestial - and then she realizes there's someone "new" watching her. (She is somewhat used to getting stared at, especially here, but she's never all that unaware of it.) She turns, coincidentally giving Marjara a good look at the bandages covering the length of her left arm as she does, and glances her way, the explicit violence of her posture leeching away and leaving merely cautious tension behind.