Elide
Her blade went ignored and therefore it would dare to snag at his furs. It ripped through, the sound catching her off guard. Her triumph vanished and Deimos was upon her once more, circling and making his next move. He'd teach her a lesson for being so brazen as to think that she had caught him in her trap.
For a moment, frustrations peak and snap inside of her as the sword crashes in on her armor. The humanity in her almost felt the pain of the blow, like a phantom memory. When the pressure of the blade punctures her poise, she recoils away from it as soon as she can with a speed that is inhuman.
Her blade sweeps out to impede whatever continuation of his assault there might be, to prevent further damage. The block is lackluster as it catches the end of his swing, the weight of it making her muscles falter and quiver.
Grimacing, she swings her sword back to slam it against his for good measure before she takes several strides back. She lowers her weapon, silently admitting defeat. Whatever frustration had built up inside of her fades away and an eerie stillness takes its place.
Although, one thing remains; dread. It pierces and threads through her dark gaze, holding notions of a dampened flame as she unsteadily glares up at Deimos. Only, it isn't Deimos she's looking at in this moment. It's the physical manifestation of her future, of nightmares coming true.
"What do I do, then? When I can not beat my opponent and they aim to end my life. What am I to do?" There's a sense of desperation in her tone as she looks up at him, her question half-expectant, half-rhetorical.
For a moment, frustrations peak and snap inside of her as the sword crashes in on her armor. The humanity in her almost felt the pain of the blow, like a phantom memory. When the pressure of the blade punctures her poise, she recoils away from it as soon as she can with a speed that is inhuman.
Her blade sweeps out to impede whatever continuation of his assault there might be, to prevent further damage. The block is lackluster as it catches the end of his swing, the weight of it making her muscles falter and quiver.
Grimacing, she swings her sword back to slam it against his for good measure before she takes several strides back. She lowers her weapon, silently admitting defeat. Whatever frustration had built up inside of her fades away and an eerie stillness takes its place.
Although, one thing remains; dread. It pierces and threads through her dark gaze, holding notions of a dampened flame as she unsteadily glares up at Deimos. Only, it isn't Deimos she's looking at in this moment. It's the physical manifestation of her future, of nightmares coming true.
"What do I do, then? When I can not beat my opponent and they aim to end my life. What am I to do?" There's a sense of desperation in her tone as she looks up at him, her question half-expectant, half-rhetorical.
sewn together, my humanity and my immortality
together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
together, they hang, trading places like sun and moon
