DAMIEN
I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak
I'm angry and I know that's weak
Damien barely registers the sharp word before Theea’s weight hits him, the surprise flickering across his face and then settling into something amused. He’s no stranger to a good-natured insult or a swift move, and this is exactly the kind of dance he never quite outgrew.
His eyes widen just a touch as she shifts her weight, trying to pull him down. Damn, she’s stronger than he expected. The cold snow bites at his palms as he falls to the ground, but the heat rising between them, the quick exchange of moves and banter, sets a fire far stronger.
And he’s not about to fold easily. With a practiced roll born from years of scraping through tight spots, Damien deflects the blow she launches, catching her fist mid-air and twisting, using her momentum to pin her arms firmly to the snowy ground. The sudden reversal is a quiet declaration: this fight is far from one-sided.
Breathing steady but chest rising just enough to show the effort, he holds the position a moment longer, eyes locked on hers. The faint smirk on his lips is almost a challenge.
“My favorite?” he growls low, voice rough like gravel under frost. “There was this one, years back. Bunch of drunks got rowdy over a barmaid. Some old guy broke a chair over someone else's head, another guy lost an ear. I didn’t start the fight, but I finished it. Shoved the guy that started it right through the door. Barkeep's been buddy-buddy ever since, but.. never lets me live it down. As you heard."
He tightens his hold on her wrists just slightly, but there's enough room to invite a counter. "What now, teacher?"
His eyes widen just a touch as she shifts her weight, trying to pull him down. Damn, she’s stronger than he expected. The cold snow bites at his palms as he falls to the ground, but the heat rising between them, the quick exchange of moves and banter, sets a fire far stronger.
And he’s not about to fold easily. With a practiced roll born from years of scraping through tight spots, Damien deflects the blow she launches, catching her fist mid-air and twisting, using her momentum to pin her arms firmly to the snowy ground. The sudden reversal is a quiet declaration: this fight is far from one-sided.
Breathing steady but chest rising just enough to show the effort, he holds the position a moment longer, eyes locked on hers. The faint smirk on his lips is almost a challenge.
“My favorite?” he growls low, voice rough like gravel under frost. “There was this one, years back. Bunch of drunks got rowdy over a barmaid. Some old guy broke a chair over someone else's head, another guy lost an ear. I didn’t start the fight, but I finished it. Shoved the guy that started it right through the door. Barkeep's been buddy-buddy ever since, but.. never lets me live it down. As you heard."
He tightens his hold on her wrists just slightly, but there's enough room to invite a counter. "What now, teacher?"
(Training 3/4)
And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek
For whatever it is I seek
