Mezolene stood on the opposing end, her staff perched upon her shoulderblade, giving her the look of a crucified woman. Her petite burgundy satin vest, strained to maintain her modesty. Cunningly woven with strips of a pale white leather, the garment was left open, exposing her slickened flesh from the collar down to the sash at her navel. Under the best of circumstances, it failed to hide the swell of her breasts from prying eyes, though it offered modest coverage for her small dark nipples.<br/><br/>Slick. Her skin was always slick with fine oils, both her body and her movements marked by a fluid grace, like a dolphin. She seemed to swim through the air more than step, as she clutched her staff. The hollow metal weapon made a whistling chime as she spun it about her neck, the gesture sending her beaded golden braid tinkling merrily.<br/><br/>She snapped her head about sharply, sending the shimmering tail spinning as it wrapped about her slender neck. Her staff continued to sing as it rolled down the length of her forearm, as she swung it into an underhanded grip, her slender white gloved fingers clutching its length gently. Mezolene extended her free hand out, the palm open towards Jakkalin for balance, "Do you best, Jakka!"<br/><br/>It wasn't meant as any kind of reproach or snub. Mezolene was simply more skilled and they both knew that. Once when they were younger, Mezolene had made the mistake of letting Jakkalin win. She had been so furious with Finch, that she didn't speak to her for three weeks. Since then, Mezolene had made certain to give it her all, no matter how much she didn't want to at times.<br/><br/>She had promised, and Finch wasn't the type to make promises lightly. Her pale white boots scrapped against the floor as she spread her legs into a comfortable stance and waited for Jakkalin.