MORGAN
"I don't believe you could do it any other way. There would always be a flourish." Morgan laughed fondly, imagining Neron posing over a couch, laying back with a hand on his forehead and wailing his misfortunes as his end neared.
She knew him well enough to immediately distrust the casual posture, the way he kicked rocks before him as if he didn't know what to do. Neron was not the same kind of fighter as she was, ready to go roaring and swinging into combat, but he could fight. So Morgan was prepared for something to come her way, though not exactly for it to be a flurry of sudden ice spears.
Her own ice magic cast of a sheet to block and knock aside the spears caught some of them, but he had simply been too fast, and one or two did shoot by her, one slicing a small cut into her cheek. Tutting, Morgan wiped her face with the back of her hand and with a short laugh (and a quiet "Well, if that's how we're doing it...", went right into her attack: a swing of her hammer, back then round into Neron's ribs.
She knew him well enough to immediately distrust the casual posture, the way he kicked rocks before him as if he didn't know what to do. Neron was not the same kind of fighter as she was, ready to go roaring and swinging into combat, but he could fight. So Morgan was prepared for something to come her way, though not exactly for it to be a flurry of sudden ice spears.
Her own ice magic cast of a sheet to block and knock aside the spears caught some of them, but he had simply been too fast, and one or two did shoot by her, one slicing a small cut into her cheek. Tutting, Morgan wiped her face with the back of her hand and with a short laugh (and a quiet "Well, if that's how we're doing it...", went right into her attack: a swing of her hammer, back then round into Neron's ribs.
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me
