> CS: Three minutes.
“Sup.” To show a little mercy, you leave off the ‘short round’ you would have tacked on otherwise. Your greeting is short and to the point, with a curt little up-nod that gets your hair out of your eyes. You should have asked Broderick to crop it closer while he was getting you all did up. Not much you can do now, though. He can see all of your weak points like this: the massive, puffy pink scar that runs down the length of your breastbone, the initials carved into your hip, the marks scarred into the backs of your shoulders. You didn’t even bother to take your piercings out, but you can tell he did. Scared, then. Doesn’t wanna give you anything more that you’d use to your advantage. And he stuttered, too. Jittery as a junebug, this one.
Wings. Huh. You cock your head as you take them in. They’re just two more periphery limbs to grab and twist and tear to get him to give in. Reminds you of being a kid, tearing the wings off of insects and pinning ‘em to corkboards. Given the wrap on his wrist and the giant expanse of marred skin across his abdomen, though, he might be a little tougher than you give him credit for.
Only one way to find out. “I’ll make this a fair fight. At least try and hit me first before I obliterate you.” Not attacking first probably seems stupid, but you have your reasons. For one, you fight harder when you’re not the one to start it. For another, if he manages to land a hit, it’ll be a good gauge of his aim and strength. More than that, though, you’re eager to see if he can actually bring himself to hit a ‘girl’, and you’ll be able to read into his style better if he starts this whole thing.
You raise both your eyebrows. Ah, she was a cocky one. Feisty too. Though you didn’t expect any less from a Strider. A female one like that. You know first hand, hell hath no fury like a women’s scorn.
Though, nor heaven or hell had no force like the bucking of a raging bull.
You look like you’re in thought for a moment, staring at the wall behind her. Already dazed, already spaced. You shake your head a little once you realized what you were doing, and your ears flick, trying to swing yourself back into reality. The truth was, none of this felt real to you.
But you knew it all was. You let your hands dangle at your side for a bit. Again, thinking. This time of a position to take. You would rather not hit first, but you felt obligated to see to her demands. You take a stance, a mixed one. Your hands balled into fist, you grunt roughly, trying to pretend someone you cared about was in the worst danger imaginable.
You rid yourself of everything for once. Your nervous, your doubt, your pity, your gentleness. You try to push rage and fury into your mind, knowing that you fight much better when angered. It was half way working, and maybe it would work more after she hits you the first time.
You try to deliver a harsh punch to her shoulder. Not quite at full force, holding yourself back for now. You’re trying to trick her into thinking that’s all you can do. After the first punch you jump back onto your toes, bouncing on them repeatedly. You were very jumpy.
(Source: chthonianwaldgrave)
