Cera
you save everyone
but who saves you?
Kindness and acquaintanceship gives way to calculation and machinations. Cera is as comfortable here as he has ever been, though this body remains a mystery. What better way to discover its limitations than battle? So he wastes no further breath on introductions, not when they have the gist of the situation figured out. This is a time for movement, for speed, not for chatter. Why else would the man be seeking a partner?
Cera cannot conceal his pleased grin when Loren dodges, unoffended at being caught out. The swift rebuke of colliding staffs forces his grip to tighten, refusing to drop his weapon. The strength behind it is surprising, not that Loren is underdeveloped per say, but his telekinesis has no visible signifier. Cera lets the force shove his bo down, the farthest tip hitting the hard earth. But he's no child either, and his eyes remain locked on Loren, aware that focusing on his weapon conceals his awareness of future movements.
It happens in rapid succession, the swipe towards his calves and the resonance of impact up his arms. Cera jumps instinctively, using the tip of his staff as a counter-balance. When his feet reconnect he wobbles slightly on the slick compacted snow, but there's no time for hesitation. Lifting his bo back from where he'd planted it into the ground, he hopes to catch Loren during the last half of his swing, and jabs straight forward with the end of his staff aimed for Loren's sternum. There's not much reach to the movement, so it wouldn't herald as much damage as he'd normally like in a spar, but hopefully it would at least force the man back a few steps.
2/4
