the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Like predators they circle each other, caught within one another's gaze. She is long and low and terribly impatient, waiting for him to strike at her, to do something, give her an incentive to respond. And even though she knows he has the flashbang she has forgotten it in the interim between their last fight. It takes her by surprise, sensitive eyes meant for seeing in darkness not anticipating the blinding light; with a yelp she starts and shies away, blinking against the haze.
When her eyes refocus he's already moved, sprinting toward the sword. She follows, though perhaps not as fast as she could: were she stronger she might be able to clear the distance between them in one solid leap. Instead it takes two, which is long enough for him to have ample time to grab the sword. Blindly ambitious, she tries to put her paws down on it, to stop him from being able to actually pick it up. With her tail she tries to swat at his face - more of a distraction than anything else.
When her eyes refocus he's already moved, sprinting toward the sword. She follows, though perhaps not as fast as she could: were she stronger she might be able to clear the distance between them in one solid leap. Instead it takes two, which is long enough for him to have ample time to grab the sword. Blindly ambitious, she tries to put her paws down on it, to stop him from being able to actually pick it up. With her tail she tries to swat at his face - more of a distraction than anything else.
