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Malodore was not terribly happy about being in the gymnasium to start with - while it did not disagree that some battle prowess was a good requirement, it strenuously disagreed that it had not already proven its skill, given the school's propensity to have its students swept into treacherous situations. The thought that it had to manufacture more violence to meet an arbitrary standard irritated it.

But it wanted to graduate, so here it was, drifting around the outskirts and looking for anyone who might be looking for a spar and didn't look too easily punctured.

Not. Happy.

Truth be told, Malodore hadn't devoted much thought to the kelpie recently, though the circumstances of their last encounter still made it feel vaguely ill. That feeling redoubled sharply at the sight of Calder, who as far as Malodore could tell had had no reason for acting the way he had, no excuse - nothing outside of himself such as Insanity or other things. Even Shehk, for all that she did not remember, was still fundamentally herself.

It hadn't been expecting Calder's presence to hurt so much. Worse, the kelpie probably wasn't coming up to apologize. "If needed," it said, warily, trying to assess the situation more objectively.

For a moment, the circling increased Malodore's anxiety - and then it realized. It was being treated as prey. Prey. The unease and discomfort it had felt before, when Calder had been so strange, evaporated under the strength and anger of the realization. "I do not consort with those who assault me," it hissed, the feathers on its wings flaring pointedly. Literally. "Any more than I would consort with a Hunter. Particularly if they do not realize that what they did was wrong." It felt its hopes that their last interaction had been an aberration go up in smoke, and knew that later it would mourn the loss, but for now its own anger carried it forward.

"You are not the Calder I used to know."

Maldore was taken aback when Calder finally spoke, a torrent of words that made... very little sense, to be honest, a series of things that had never happened and words that had never been spoken. When he finished the plague doctor felt vaguely hollow. "I am sorry, truly, that what we had meant so little to you," it said, quietly.

Hate was a strong word. It shook its head. "I do not hate you... but I will accept your challenge." Otherwise it knew what would happen. The kelpie would push and push and push, exactly as he had last time, until Malodore felt compelled to defend itself and then they would be fighting anyway.

At least this way, it would get class credit...

Class credit.

Disgusted, the plague doctor stepped into the sparring area and flipped its tailblade up into its hands. It lifted its beak and stared at Calder.

"I left because of how you were acting," Malodore said as calmly as it could, side-stepping but not quite out of the way of the blow; it deflected with the tailblade as best it could, earning a sharp ting! and a dent in the metal. Its fingers stung a bit from the impact. "It was not like you, or so I thought at the time. "Do not place words in my beak."

"When you attempt to engage a friend in an activity, it is customary to stop when said friend says no," Malodore said, still speaking with that dead calm. It didn't dodge the shove, but it didn't end up moving back much, either. "Are you here to spar with words or with blows?" It punctuated the question by flaring its wings forward, the bladed feathers on the tips of the spars reaching out to cut at Calder.

HP: 49/50
Damage: 3

It took the punch with a faint hiss. "All those years, and you have never acted as you did that day," it said, quietly, then reached back and plucked free a bladed feather from its wings. Close up, the kelpie could likely summon more power than its relatively fragile frame could take. It moved back and threw from a distance, the bladed feather sharp and accurately thrown.

HP: 45/50
Damage: 6