|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 15, 2010 19:38:58 GMT -5
His words stung, as they were probably meant to. But that didn't matter once she was up and back in the fight. Distractions were never good in battle, and to dwell on someone's words was its own distraction. She put all her mind and body into her movement instead.
There was no noticeable sense of accomplishment when she felt the blow connect, no smile at the sound of a blade clattering to the ground - she was moving again as soon as that first blow hit, twisting away from his other hand, ready to dodge his returning strike. The words of the audience were nothing but background noise, unheeded as she concentrated on the situation at hand.
Sudden motion from Silvar's remaining sword hand caused Relv to bend swiftly backwards, barely dodging the hilt, and taking advantage of her bent-over position to twist around yet again, kicking him in the side while reaching for the sword that lay discarded on the ground behind her. The idea of using his sword against him might be interesting. |
|
|
|
Post by Silvar on Apr 15, 2010 20:05:41 GMT -5
Fast, it was this speed and agility that set Relv apart from the others in more ways than just her power, which was a danger and an asset all its own. A good recovery, and Silvar had to act quickly to avoid her second blow.
There was no truly avoiding it, though, in that amount of time, and he instead made good use of his now free hand to catch her by the ankle as her leg came at him, gritting his teeth at the force of the blow on an already sore wrist. Pain was something he was used to, though, and the feel of it sparked something more than the almost casual way in which he'd been going about this fight.
"You couldn't even kill one of these fools with that technique," he hissed at her, but the smirk on his lips said plainly that he was trying to rile her up.
It was time to step it up a notch, and the atmosphere shifted as he jerked her hard by the ankle to throw her off balance when she reached for his fallen blade, though it wasn't quick enough to keep her from getting a hold on it. |
|
|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 16, 2010 12:47:52 GMT -5
Relv fell again, this time catching herself before she hit the ground. She could feel her ankle throbbing from the throw, but ignored it in favor of moving into a better position and lifting her new weapon in an attack stance.
He quite liked to talk, didn't he? Words were useless, and yet how they could hurt if used correctly. And he was quite good at using them in that respect. He was smirking though, and so she smirked back, testing her leg a moment before going ahead again. What she needed to do was injure him somehow; he hadn't a single new cut on that beautifully scarred face of his, or anywhere else for that matter.
She moved forward then. A slash at his torso, a feint, a swift twist and kick at his remaining sword arm - her ankle protested this, still a little sore from the previous throw, but it was not enough to deter her from her attack. |
|
|
|
Post by Silvar on Apr 16, 2010 14:51:24 GMT -5
Work through the pain, because if you didn't then you would die or end up worse than dead. Silvar watched her, calculating for only a moment before she mirrored the angle of his lips. So she was going to get serious now, was she?
Good.
He reacted as she made her move, wings curling tight to make it easier to maneuver as, visible feint or not he wasn't fond of the idea of being eviscerated. He shifted to block the slash, knocking the sword in her hand upward, but the kick that followed wasn't easy to dodge with the speed that she possessed, and though he managed to move enough that her heel only grazed his elbow, her blade drew a thin line below his eye.
He smelled the blood though as soon as it seeped from the shallow wound (darker than usual, almost black, with a metallic sheen to it that hadn't been there before), and there was a flash of something in his eyes as he willingly dropped his own sword. The clatter of it hitting the ground was simultaneous to the way he snatched hold of her knife arm, twisted it sharply with a measured precision and slid behind her as he stole the small blade from her grasp to press against the vein in her neck.
"Won't you bleed for me," he hissed, loud enough that only she could hear, because it was only them just then, a frenzy, and his voice was off kilter, close to her ear and his mind was somewhere other than a duel. The shadows at his feet twitched against her dampening field, but couldn't reach her. |
|
|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 16, 2010 17:51:00 GMT -5
She'd hurt him, though she hadn't meant to draw blood. She could smell it; had it always been that color? It was unnatural. The look in his eyes did not go unnoticed either, but as she caught sight of it she was suddenly trapped in his grasp, arm twisted painfully behind her back, unable to move without the threat of slicing her own neck open. What should she do, in such a position?
She could feel the blade pressing against her flesh. How deep would it cut, if she moved? There must be a way to escape this situation. If she moved in just this way perhaps it would work...
She smiled thinly, though he couldn't see it. "I'll gladly bleed for your pleasure." With those words, she threw her head sideways and back, slightly cutting her neck in the process, and tried to hit him in the face. |
|
|
|
Post by Silvar on Apr 16, 2010 19:09:18 GMT -5
The way the blade pressed to her neck it was so close to cutting, and it took a good deal of restraint for Silvar not to press it further. He could practically hear the blood pulsing through her veins, or was that sound simply his own? He felt the slow crawl of silverblack down his cheek and it itched, muscles twitching as if that would make it go away.
He had only half expected her to surrender, had been too focused on not killing her (he needed his generals, after all, it wouldn't do to kill them), and his eyes had narrowed sharply at the sound of her voice. Just in time for the back of her head to connect rather solidly with his jaw, the force of the blow jarring enough that his grip went slack and his head spun and he tasted blood.
The Warrior staggered back a moment, wings curling in a defensive arc around front of him as he flexed his throbbing jaw and spat silver. Silver? There was a flash of amusement in his eyes, and as he steadied himself his wings spread only slightly, stance dangerous and he could see the blood on her neck, too.
But he waited this time, for her next move. |
|
|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 16, 2010 22:23:18 GMT -5
More blood. She wanted to ask why his was such a strange color, but this wasn't the time for that. Relv turned to face him as soon as she'd escaped, readjusting her grip on the sword. Her neck hurt too, now, to match her ankle. She touched the wound with her free hand - it wasn't bleeding too badly, from what she could tell, so she could safely ignore it until their duel was over.
He was waiting for her. He looked so confident, standing there, despite the silver blood he'd just spat out. Silver. It was almost alluring in its strangeness. And it matched his name so well...Relv wiped her bloody hand quickly on the leg of her pants and got back into a fighting stance. Her target seemed almost happy, but that was natural. To fight and to kill could be quite a beautiful thing, after all, and she knew her captain reveled in it.
No more hesitation. She lifted her sword and struck. |
|
|
|
Post by Silvar on Apr 17, 2010 0:29:56 GMT -5
She turned, and crimson eyes watched her. Silvar ran his tongue over his teeth, prodded at the split in his lip and let out a sound close to a chuckle as she touched her hand to the wound he'd left on her. Indeed she had bled for him, though it seemed that he had bled for her as well.
Somehow, he found it almost hilarious.
What a waste, he found himself thinking, as she wiped the blood on her pants, and yet she was preparing for a strike, and he had to focus on it. This would end it, and as she came at him again he acted quickly, a smooth and calculated shift of strength and agility.
He had to twist to the side to avoid her strike, but waited until the last moment, rotating on his heels until she had just passed his position. Again he caught her sword arm, twisting it back behind her as he took hold of the back of her head with his other hand, one leg curling around hers to knock them from under her and he followed her to the ground to pin her there, her own blade against the back of her neck.
"Enough," he breathed out, fingers tightening in her hair as he pressed her face to the floor. |
|
|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 17, 2010 13:39:51 GMT -5
She'd almost gotten him. At least, it had looked that way at first, but he'd dodged and caught her once again. Her arm protested against the abuse as it was twisted once again behind her back, the sword falling from her slackened grip.
The dampening field dissipated with her fall, and the shadows grew with its disappearance.
How many times had she fallen into this position in practice with him? How many times had she received a blade to her neck, fallen face-first to the floor? She felt the urge to kick, no matter how useless the movement would be, but she could hear the finality in his words and lay still where she was.
The fingers in her hair had a somewhat painful grip; her head was immobilized though, and so she waited patiently for him to let go. |
|
|
|
Post by Silvar on Apr 17, 2010 14:07:33 GMT -5
Silvar felt her surrender, felt it in her stillness that she realized how futile it would be to struggle. He felt it down to the way the field that nearly nullified his power melted away and as always when it happened he felt it surge, the shadows swirling around them in renewed vigor.
The grip on her hair and arm tightened in that moment, and despite the ache in his jaw he grit his teeth, eyes wild and the darkness seemed to fill the space before he managed to get a grip on himself. An almost unsteady inhale, exhale and his fingers loosened, wings stretched and he rose from the ground, shadows curling back to him as he placed his sanity back front and center and regained his composure.
"The lot of you are dismissed," the Warrior snapped, letting his head turn and crimson eyes scan the crowd of soldiers as, smartly, they all made a beeline for the exit to the grounds, sure to avoid their two superiors as they did so. Only now did he allow himself to lift his hand, testing his jaw and rubbing at the soreness as he looked down upon his fallen general.
"Get up," was practically an order, despite the fact that it was the next logical course of action for Relv. |
|
|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 17, 2010 17:12:51 GMT -5
The pain was short-lived, despite the sudden surge from Silv's tightened grip in her hair. Freedom at last! She waited until he'd given the command, listened as the soldiers quickly left the area, and picked herself up off the ground. She'd need a bath after this; the dirt was intolerably irritating.
Relv moved quickly to an appropriate standing position, facing her captain, though she had to pause to brush off some of the dirt. How did Earth Fey stand it all? But that thought should be left for another time. He seemed preoccupied. Had something happened? It made her wish she could follow him more often than she did, to find out all the secrets she knew she'd never be able to uncover.
But a question could be harmless enough, if asked at the right time. "Is something on your mind, Captain?" |
|
|
|
Post by Silvar on Apr 17, 2010 21:51:04 GMT -5
For a moment as she stood and the sounds of footsteps faded, Silvar seemed to look through her, focused on something else entirely. The line of his mouth was downturned slightly, and his brow furrowed, her movements barely catching his eye as his mind wandered.
There were things that needed to be done, but he'd been up for over a day now and hadn't made as much progress as he'd needed to. Her words, however, snapped him out of his thoughts, and his gaze refocused. He rolled his shoulders, wings stretching and settling into a more comfortable position.
"Gather the others," he said finally, rubbing at his sore wrist and reaching for his discarded blade in order to sheathe it before holding out his hand to her for the other sword. "Inform them that we are to meet tomorrow in the council room after sunset. I will not tolerate tardiness, and absence will earn an instant demotion."
That would give him enough time to finish organizing things, to get some rest and formulate a strategy. There were things that needed to be discussed, in light of recent events, and loyalties to be tested.
And she had given him war that time, and how he itched for it now as he turned away from Relv, making his way back toward the castle. |
|
|
|
Post by Relv Ierocis on Apr 18, 2010 1:37:17 GMT -5
So distracted, so distant - as if his mind was somewhere else entirely. What had happened? She dearly wanted to know. But her mouth stayed closed, her questions went unanswered, and she let him take back the blade she'd stolen during their match. It was back to business as usual.
A rigid nod and a "Yes, sir," were all the reply she gave him as he turned to leave. What were they to do in this newly scheduled meeting? Another question, but one she could wait for an answer to. The others would have to be informed immediately, of course. It wouldn't do to forget.
She watched his back for a moment, face impassive and mind dangerously curious, before picking up her own discarded weapons and following him to the exit. |
|
