[Of course he’s enjoying himself. Even without the presence of the moons in the sky, Sephiroth always found enjoyment in the one thing he was raised for — fighting, training, cutting down his opponent. There is nothing more exhilarating than the feeling of steel clashing against steel, or veins throbbing with blood and exertion, and he's at home in it. It is all a game, most days (most days, no one can so much as lay a scratch on him), and tonight, it is very much the same.
She’s so bold, though, tossing another fireball his way. This time, Sephiroth allows it to graze him, catching hungry embers across his left wing. It's warm as they singe a handful of plumes, but he spreads the appendages wide — such massive, dark things — and the fire dies under the momentum, wisping smoke behind him.
It would be so easy to down her. She’s no SOLDIER, not some corporate-created super soldier to be used for war. But he doesn’t want to end this too quickly, preferring to give her a passing, sporting chance instead. Nico looks as though she might walk right up to him, and he indulges her, doing the same in long, singular strides with wings flared at his back.
He turns Masamune point-downward, and sinks it into the earth. It sticks and stays there, a long stretch of steel, and he leaves it behind him as he approaches. Sephiroth doesn’t need it. Maybe that’s an insult to her, but to a moon-added brain, it is a practicality to make the encounter last.]
No sword then.
[The gap between them closes, air heavy. Tension surely about to snap with a move by either one of them.]
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She’s so bold, though, tossing another fireball his way. This time, Sephiroth allows it to graze him, catching hungry embers across his left wing. It's warm as they singe a handful of plumes, but he spreads the appendages wide — such massive, dark things — and the fire dies under the momentum, wisping smoke behind him.
It would be so easy to down her. She’s no SOLDIER, not some corporate-created super soldier to be used for war. But he doesn’t want to end this too quickly, preferring to give her a passing, sporting chance instead. Nico looks as though she might walk right up to him, and he indulges her, doing the same in long, singular strides with wings flared at his back.
He turns Masamune point-downward, and sinks it into the earth. It sticks and stays there, a long stretch of steel, and he leaves it behind him as he approaches. Sephiroth doesn’t need it. Maybe that’s an insult to her, but to a moon-added brain, it is a practicality to make the encounter last.]
No sword then.
[The gap between them closes, air heavy. Tension surely about to snap with a move by either one of them.]
Is that better?