Elide
Elide is not inclined to argue over whether one should side with the Old or New Gods. It is simply up to the individual, as it is up to them what direction they allow such followings to take them in. As it was her choice, all that time ago. It's a choice she's come to terms with, even if her audience has not really been requested or needed until now - even if this is still a startling call to arms. She supposes it is her own fault for being hermit-like. Anyway. No, she doesn't have anything to say about the way Deimos' countenance becomes vitriolic at the mention of the Voice, and he makes it subtle enough that it doesn't need to be addressed. Saves themselves the awkward strain.
She is taken by pleasant surprise at his acceptance of her promise. It was given in the heat of the moment, something to steady herself with - she didn't quite expect anything from him over it. Although, deep down, she must have hoped, because she gives him a determined smirk of her own.
There is little else said as the storm inside of her cries for an outlet. Deimos advances upon being given the go-ahead, and she prepares for him. Elide's ribcage coils and her sword swings around to block at the suggestion that he will strike for it again. However, he takes her by surprise, which is evident in her reaction in that split moment. A passing, fleeting dread crosses through her dark gaze as his sword lurches in a direction she was not expecting, not planning for.
The hilt whacks against her wrist but, in that moment of realization, she managed to prepare herself for the impact. Her sword is not disarmed and there is no wince of pain - she cannot feel it. She does, however, surge backwards with the hit, a hint of annoyance in her eyes. "If you want a fistfight, all you have to do is ask," she mutters, glaring up at him.
Her sword snaps diagonally at his, attempting to 'catch' it so she can twist her blade around his in her own attempt to disarm. Tit for tat, it's only fair.
She is taken by pleasant surprise at his acceptance of her promise. It was given in the heat of the moment, something to steady herself with - she didn't quite expect anything from him over it. Although, deep down, she must have hoped, because she gives him a determined smirk of her own.
There is little else said as the storm inside of her cries for an outlet. Deimos advances upon being given the go-ahead, and she prepares for him. Elide's ribcage coils and her sword swings around to block at the suggestion that he will strike for it again. However, he takes her by surprise, which is evident in her reaction in that split moment. A passing, fleeting dread crosses through her dark gaze as his sword lurches in a direction she was not expecting, not planning for.
The hilt whacks against her wrist but, in that moment of realization, she managed to prepare herself for the impact. Her sword is not disarmed and there is no wince of pain - she cannot feel it. She does, however, surge backwards with the hit, a hint of annoyance in her eyes. "If you want a fistfight, all you have to do is ask," she mutters, glaring up at him.
Her sword snaps diagonally at his, attempting to 'catch' it so she can twist her blade around his in her own attempt to disarm. Tit for tat, it's only fair.
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
