Damien
and every demon wants his pound of flesh
but i like to keep some things to myself
but i like to keep some things to myself
The stick gave a muted crack as he tried to wrench it back, but the ice had it pinned tight. Damien’s grip tightened, jaw flexing as he gave it one last sharp tug. Nothing. The weapon was already more hers than his, frost creeping steadily toward his boots.
With a low grunt, he abandoned it. A smart fighter knew when to let go. He shifted his weight back a step, then another, watching the tendrils of ice snake toward him with hungry patience. “Hnh. Not bad,” he muttered, voice rough but tinged with a grudging note of approval.
Snow scattered as he pulled away from the growing frost, boots crunching a retreat to the edge of the alcove. The pups gave a pair of eager yaps from their post, tails wagging as if they found this whole affair wildly entertaining. Damien swung around behind a stack of crates, hoping the shadowed corner would offer enough cover for him to draw a breath and reassess.
He crouched low, fingers brushing the snow-crusted wood, scanning for anything else he could use to fend off her next strike. A loose board. A chunk of broken pallet. Hell, even a handful of snow would do in a pinch. His pulse drummed, not from fear but from the sharp edge of anticipation.
With a low grunt, he abandoned it. A smart fighter knew when to let go. He shifted his weight back a step, then another, watching the tendrils of ice snake toward him with hungry patience. “Hnh. Not bad,” he muttered, voice rough but tinged with a grudging note of approval.
Snow scattered as he pulled away from the growing frost, boots crunching a retreat to the edge of the alcove. The pups gave a pair of eager yaps from their post, tails wagging as if they found this whole affair wildly entertaining. Damien swung around behind a stack of crates, hoping the shadowed corner would offer enough cover for him to draw a breath and reassess.
He crouched low, fingers brushing the snow-crusted wood, scanning for anything else he could use to fend off her next strike. A loose board. A chunk of broken pallet. Hell, even a handful of snow would do in a pinch. His pulse drummed, not from fear but from the sharp edge of anticipation.
(Training 3/4)
