middaeg | [Closed] April Catchall

[ It's a good thing Felix has come into more of his changes since they last spoke—the house is pretty large, after all, and it'd be easy for a knock at the front door to get lost in the halls. Fortunately, he picks up on the sound, and a minute or so later a disgruntled Felix appears at the door, ears cocking upward in recognition at the site of her.

He looks her up and down with bright golden eyes for a moment, appraising, before he actually speaks. Looking healthier, at least. ]

You. [ Because that's what qualifies for a greeting, coming from Felix. ] What are you here for? Come to take me up on that duel finally?

[Well, he's started changing. The gold eyes and the ears were new. Fang huffs a short laugh, swinging her weapon back to rest casually on her shoulder.]

Oh, a duel, is it? Listen to you, talkin' about it like it's some big thing.

[Fang tilts her head as green eyes meet gold, her smile cocky. Fang taps the haft of the weapon against her shoulder twice.] You bet I am. I haven't had a go at anything in three months—might lose it if I don't.

[Aside from when her Bonded-in-law almost clawed out her eye, but that wasn't fighting for fighting's sake. The little notch in her eyebrow above her right eye was new.]

[ Felix snorts, but he's not about to argue over the terminology, so he steps aside to allow her passage, hooking a thumb in his sword belt—always at his side, even in his own home. A faint grin tugs at the corners of his mouth; even Felix can't look completely grim when presented with a new sparring partner. ]

A fight's a fight, regardless. You can take it seriously, or don't, but I suggest you put your best foot forward. [ He tilts his head for her to follow, glancing over his shoulder as he leads her through the foyer and takes a right. ] I don't give second shots to slackers.

[ Down the long hallway, past the spiral staircase leading to the second floor and side doors to various parlors and pantries, through a set of double doors, they arrive at the ballroom—or what used to be the ballroom. Training equipment in a barrel in the corner, practice dummies lined up against the far wall, and a raised platform in the center for sparring indicate he's put in quite a bit of work to convert it to a training hall. ]

Will that be your weapon of choice?

[Fang glances over her shoulder at him, glimmering in amusement at some inside joke.]

I don't play-fight, if that's what you're gettin' at. That's a great way to train habits that'll get you killed when you need 'em.

[It's a rough, merciless philosophy born from Gran Pulse's equally unforgiving environment and a hunter's perspective. Learning her people's martial arts that way had been brutal, especially for a child, but wild monsters would never be expected to pull their blows.]

[Fang wanders towards the stage, swinging the metal staff-like object from her shoulder and giving it a spin—the blades slide from their folded position into a twinned tip with a grating of metal.]

Did you think it was for show?

[ Felix's eyes slide up the length of the staff to the twin blades at its tip, flicked seamlessly open into a two-pronged trident, and he flashes her a grin. ]

Your weapon is unique, I'll give you that.

[ Felix, too, steps up onto the stage across from her, sliding his blade from its sheathe with a ring of steel. He's fought against polearms before. The one he faces now is not so different from a lance, but it's pointy on both ends, which means he'll have to be on his guard for attacks from either side. ]

But can it win you the match? We'll see about that.

[ He rocks back on his heels, dropping low, and then he springs into action, swinging his blade downward in a diagonal arc at Fang's left shoulder. ]

[She smoothly raises her weapon in a diagonal block, his blade adding another scratch to the myriad other battle scars on the metal haft. Fang shoves against his sword at the moment of impact trying to make the weapon's rebound go wild, and retaliates with a slash at Felix's ribs with the lance's left blades.]

Don't go gettin' cocky, now.

Ha! As if.

[ Rather than try to brute force his way past her momentum, Felix allows for some give, bending his arms to cushion the blow and hold his blade steady. Her weapon has a lot of reach, and affords her a great deal of leverage, that much is certain. And it's nice to have an opponent that can match his strength in a fellow Turnskin—those are a rarity these days.

He lets his blade skid off the edge of hers and takes a hop-skip back, twisting the point down to catch the slash of hers, and he grins. ]

Don't go thinking you'll beat me that easily.

[ A twist of his wrist to turn her weapon down gives him the angle he needs to spin on his heel and out of their deadlock, turning and immediately coming at her from the outside of her reach—swinging hard and fast and relentlessly.]

[Fang laughs, giving her lance another twirl as Felix disengages. A spear it might be, but her style was loose and aggressive—more reminiscent of axe-fighting and brawling than the careful game of range most spears played.]

[The flash of delight in Fang's eyes was the only warning before she surges forward as well; she meets his flurry of strikes by leaping at the other turnskin with a twirl, legs lashing out in a kick and wildly swinging the lance out in a sweeping arc.]

[It's reckless. It's fearless. It's absolutely unguarded. It's a product of the philosophy of meeting force with greater force; with speed like his, his sword would no doubt find her—probably several times. If that was the case, Fang was sure as hell going to make her hits count.]

[ Her fighting style doesn't go unnoticed—Felix makes it a habit to observe his opponents in a duel, and she's no different. She fights with wild force, holding nothing back out of fear. He likes that. It makes him grin for half a second before he's back to focusing on where to put his feet. Far more interesting than any of the knights he's ever dueled.

There are brief moments here and there where he lands a hit with the flat of his blade, harmlessly grazing a shoulder or a hip, but for the most part, he's focused on staying on his feet, because when that lance hits, it hits hard—driving past his guard to strike him in the side, boots skidding on the polished floor as he skips one-two steps and stumbles with the force of the blow.

He wheezes, half-bent at the waist. ]

You don't pull your punches, do you?

[Harmless flat or not, it still stings something fierce—no doubt it'll bruise. Fang wasn't as tough as she used to be, and it was lost on her whether that was the work of this world on a whole, or the particular type of Turnskin she was.]

Like hell.

[Fang settles into a wide stance, rolling her left to work out the smarting ache in her shoulder. Her lance hangs one-handed at the ready a little behind her.]

'sides, you seem like that type that'd get all huffy if I did. ["How bold of you to hold back against me," etc etc.] You always dance on your feet like that?

[The way he fought, all darting flashes of metal—it reminded her of Lightning, really. She swings her lance around into a two-handed grip; one end pointed at Felix, the other by her back shoulder in a high guard.]

[ Funny how she has him pegged so easily after only a handful of conversations. He blinks, head tilting slightly to one side, bemused. Is he really that obvious?

...Probably. He's never shy about his thoughts or his standards when it comes to a fight. ]

Of course. Better to stay on your toes in close quarters.

[ He steps back, bending at the knees and turning his upper body one way, then the other, just to make sure he still has his full range of movement. He thinks he'll bruise, but that's nothing new. ]

It keeps my opponent guessing, and keeps me out of harm's way. But I suppose, if you're relying on brute force...

[ He arches an eyebrow and darts in low, aiming for the space beneath her guard, the opposite hip from where he struck before. ]

That might not be your best strategy.

[Closed] April Catchall

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