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ASHE
he was something solid to lean against.
It was with savage triumph that her elbow connected, her blade too. Red stained his chest as he moved back from her, and she righted het position quickly. The pain pulsing from her abdomen was like a drum that reverberated into her with a hunger for more. Drawing his blood was not enough, this needed to end. Even aside from the vicious hunger blazing in her chest, if this went on much longer, the spectators would grow bored. Potential clients or repeat contractors, all of them, and she couldn't afford to lose a single one.
She didn't block the blade for her throat despite the flare of panic at impending death - she remembered well the last time steel met her neck - and instead turned so her side faced Kalt. She dipped forward, batting aside his second blade with the ring and clash of metal. Her forward movement send it slicing against her gloved knuckles, the fabric doing little to shield the thin skin from being split open. Only her forward momentum to keep him within her modest reach saved the tendons of her fingers. Then he spun for a roundhouse kick, the world slowed, she caught the glint of a knife upon the ground, and Ashe grinned. She bent back to avoid his boot to her chest, grunting against the stretch of her wound as she kept moving and dipped below his leg and forward. How many times had Kalt caught one of her kicks, dipped around it, drove his blade into her and reminded her how easy it was for someone with his reach to deal with kicks from someone as small as her? She didn't flip her own knife at him of course - she kept moving in the opposite direction of the way he had kicked - swept down - snatched up his blade - snapped around to face his exposed side - jab his own knife down - The blade sank down deeply into flesh within the span of seconds. Her heart lurched distantly as she ripped the blade free with a shower of blood from just above Kalt's hip, but she didn't wait. Her boot followed her momentum and slammed down to the back of his knee on his opposite side. The moment he would go down, her arms locked around his neck, knife pressed hard enough against his throat to draw blood, to end it and prove she was worthy. But she stilled, her arm tensing as she halted the kill with the side of her head pressed to Kalt’s. She didn't look to Master yet, or to her watchers, not to anyone. ”Dead,” she crooned breathlessly so that only he could hear. something violent and fierce and unmoving |
