[closed] august catch-all!

[ua_duibhne]

Who: Diarmuid & Zelda, Diarmuid & Berserker
When: Throughout August.
Where: Around the city
What: Reluctant modelling during Lúnasa, failing to drink unexpected emotions away, and other good shit.
Warnings: N/A!

Comments

[ua_duibhne]

[He should have known that Caster would have a few tricks up his sleeve. Rather, he would have been disappointed if he hadn't. All of his senses are on fire as the other Servant springs into action and, the second Diarmuid notices that glow of energy around his feet, bright even through the dust, he realises that he's been looking in entirely the wrong place. Not that he has long to figure out how he's doing it. Caster is a blur of movement, his sheer speed and dexterity forcing him to go on the defense before he's entirely ready. Though he just about dodges backwards, he's not prepared to handle the full force of his assault.

Jabs are blocked or parried- but a lightning fast swing catches him unawares and bites into his cheek.

Yes.]



[This is what every warrior truly lives for. Heart pounding, every inch of his body tense, blood roaring in his ears- it's been some time since he last had a duel so evenly matched and his excitement is palpable.

As soon as he sees an opening, though, he seizes it- but not so that he can counter. Instead, he goes for a feint, gracefully ducking another blow and darting to the side for a moment's relief. A few steps and he's out of reach again. Diarmuid wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, unintentionally smearing the blood in a way that almost looks like war paint.]

That's quite the spell. You'll have to share it with me once I've bested you.

[futhark]

｢ ooc: to make up for the ungodly wait, i bring a tribute ｣



[ First blood.

The adrenaline rush has Caster, no, Cú Chulainn fully in its grasp. A duel with a warrior of this caliber is a pure pleasure. No barrels held— is it dangerous? Of course, it is. But that's what their skills are for. Exchanging blows with full force, being ready to counter them. That's a form of trust, to go all out and know that the other warrior can handle it.

It's reckless— it's exactly what courses through their veins.

The feint is so well-timed it knocks one of Caster's hands off the staff. Not that he can't swing with just one, that's what he does, but Lancer must have anticipated exactly that, reflexes honed in endless battles and ducked right under it.

A second to breathe, a moment to exchange another banter. ]

Rising up the stakes already? What do you offer in exchange to make it even?



[ A twirl of the staff is as much a show, as it is a movement to get him into a different position. He does prefer the low stance, close to Earth— feral. This time it's the markings that light up, muted color glowing with the warmth of living magic. But here is the interesting detail—

As enchantments on Caster's arms are activated, the faint glow that marked his steps fades. Tuning different spells on different areas of the body are not as easy as one would think. A skill he has to yet fully master. ]