[Training] ow my back

Mabel would quickly realize the situation was absolutely not what it seemed. The fire would quickly prove to be fake, based upon her actually getting a good look at it and the fact that the branch refused to catch fire. It was an illusion and while not exactly a good one, it did buy Oliver enough time.

A small part of him itched to grab for his blade to properly defend himself: the girl was playing dirty and Oliver knew now that her intentions were not nearly as pure as he initially envisioned. Such rough training would be acceptable with someone he knew well, but absolutely not for someone he had only just met. He had already granted her too much trust and it seemed his safety was absolutely not a concern of hers.

The branch collided with him with a thump, whacking him straight into the chest. The hits would continue: some landing hard, some missing, and others grazing him.

After the first couple of hits, Oliver would take a step back and shift into his leopard form. Letting out a growl he'd try his best to pounce onto her. If he could, he'd place both of his paws on her arms to hold her down. No claws would extend, he merely wanted to stop her, not harm her any further.

A snarl wrapped around her mouth, an entanglement of the rage filtering down through her juvenile form. Trickery and deceit was one thing, and she’d attempted to employ it earlier, but now he was rendered into a new form – and she still took her branch overhead, reaching to snag, to hit, to pummel it into his head.

But she wouldn’t be fast enough to elude the leopard conditions, the reel of pouncing, even as she swung and intended to hit him in the soft underbelly. The paws suddenly on her shoulders forced her downward, and she hit the ground quickly, trapped and tucked underneath his bulk and weight. [say]“Get off,”[/say] she growled, fangs extending, reaching out to bite at anything nearby. Instinctual, and without any prior thought to back it up, except absolute desperation.

The change in shift absolutely worked to his advantage. No matter what she did, nothing really seemed to help get him off. The biting did come close and startled him a bit, but it was too late for that. Telling him to get off, Oliver understood this as meaning 'I give up and you win' because otherwise, he wasn't going to be playing nice.

Hopping on-off, Oliver shifted back into his human form and held out his hand to help her up. [say]"When I say training, I didn't mean to try and destroy my knees."[/say] It was a tad bit playful, but it was obvious Oliver wasn't a fan of her deceit. [say]"You did nicely. Good job,"[/say] If she hadn't been so rude, he would've asked to spar again, but something about her left a rotten taste in his mouth. Hopefully, he'd be able to learn more about this mysterious girl and figure out why she had it out for him.

Taking a couple of steps back, he nodded to her. [say]"If you don't mind, I'd like to get going."[/say] He still didn't totally trust that she wouldn't try to attack him with his back turned, but it's a risk he's willing to take.

She hissed and snarled, a fiend on the ground. This hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted at all, and the disappointment shorn up against her spine and curled in her gut. If she were truly armed, there’d be a knife in her hand and she’d shove it, sink it, into his ribcage, and he’d spill blood across the earth. And she’d laugh, laugh, and laugh, for one of the Old God fools to seep into the world. To drift. To die.

She didn’t like his words, his compliments, his jokes. She didn’t like anything about him. Another snarl coiled along her mouth and she was a demon, rising from the floor of her disaster.

This wouldn’t happen again. She’d make sure of it.

[say]“Get lost then,”[/say] bristled along fangs. Then she’d do the same, licking her wounds, contemplating how to be better, how to take them down.

[FIN]