Timestamp: Spring 61, 512 AV
Blythe's blonde hair, growing into a sizeable mane now that she had remained off the Island for the several seasons past, rocked in its holder as the Konti strode forward. Her knuckles were growing as white as the spaces surrounding the lavender rings; her fingers coiling as she graze the hilt of her gifted katana. The man across from her was huffing. Or, rather, his chest seemed to be heaving as though she had long ago tired him out. Of course, her own chest was rising and falling rapidly too, and her heart was thundering in her chest. Like the hooves of a horse pounding against a cobbled path. She could hear it thudding as she came closer to the man whose sweaty palms were struggling to maintain any sort of hold on his sword. She was surprised, to find that her endurance seemed to be surpassing that of one quite so burly. Unless it were merely a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security? But how could it be, and what would be the point in such a thing? Surely, the man was simply growing tired of their relentless sparring; their need to train each other into something far greater than what they were at present.
Blythe sighed to herself as she swept her sword back, tugging it towards her right shoulder, and away from her middle. Her feet began to move a little faster. She glided across the ground, her simple white dress swishing around her feet as the man righted himself, leaving his sword guarding his middle, in the most simplistic of defensive stances. She could see the sweat beading his brow as she took one final step closer, before forcing her weapon outwards, towards his left shoulder. He stepped back, and raised his great sword with ease; causing metal to clash against metal. She winced at the grate of it, as a smooth end ran into a curve. She stepped back a little, pulling her weapon with her, and away from her opponent's. She could see his falling away a little, as he slipped into a defensive stance again. A low crouch, that made him appear almost frog like. As though he were preparing to leap from one of the city's large stone bases to another.
The Konti eyed him cautiously as she stepped to the right, moving around him a little as she pulled her blade out to the right side of her body, before swinging it back in, to strike his outer arm. The man easily side stepped before bringing his sword forward, whisking it under the silent sweep of Blythe's blade, towards her middle. The startled Konti had no time to retract her sword and block, thus, narrowly evading an injury. So instead, she simply drew back, into the shadows cast by the stone surroundings. The thick grey. Her sword hung awkwardly in the air as her eyes danced over him; and her eyes over her. Drinking her in. Her muscles, rippling softly beneath her glistening scaled flesh. Her thumbs ran along the hilt, moving towards, and then away from the grouping of her remaining fingers. It slithered like a snake.
Moments later, the man was coming for her. His sword poised in his center. Yet, as he neared, he swept it out drawing it from one of her shoulders, down to her middle. Blythe narrowly side stepped this initial attack, before he stepped forward, and swept it back up to her opposite shoulder, completing a "V." This time, instead of stepping out of the way, Blythe raised her sword to meet his, and within an instant, a deafening clang was ricocheting off the walls. It echoed for several seconds, as it slowly died down into nothingness. As though it were their one and only signal to keep going, the fighters reluctantly pulled back from each other, and were soon, staring each other down again. Looking for an opportune moment to strike. An area of weakness which they could exploit.
Blythe's blonde hair, growing into a sizeable mane now that she had remained off the Island for the several seasons past, rocked in its holder as the Konti strode forward. Her knuckles were growing as white as the spaces surrounding the lavender rings; her fingers coiling as she graze the hilt of her gifted katana. The man across from her was huffing. Or, rather, his chest seemed to be heaving as though she had long ago tired him out. Of course, her own chest was rising and falling rapidly too, and her heart was thundering in her chest. Like the hooves of a horse pounding against a cobbled path. She could hear it thudding as she came closer to the man whose sweaty palms were struggling to maintain any sort of hold on his sword. She was surprised, to find that her endurance seemed to be surpassing that of one quite so burly. Unless it were merely a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security? But how could it be, and what would be the point in such a thing? Surely, the man was simply growing tired of their relentless sparring; their need to train each other into something far greater than what they were at present.
Blythe sighed to herself as she swept her sword back, tugging it towards her right shoulder, and away from her middle. Her feet began to move a little faster. She glided across the ground, her simple white dress swishing around her feet as the man righted himself, leaving his sword guarding his middle, in the most simplistic of defensive stances. She could see the sweat beading his brow as she took one final step closer, before forcing her weapon outwards, towards his left shoulder. He stepped back, and raised his great sword with ease; causing metal to clash against metal. She winced at the grate of it, as a smooth end ran into a curve. She stepped back a little, pulling her weapon with her, and away from her opponent's. She could see his falling away a little, as he slipped into a defensive stance again. A low crouch, that made him appear almost frog like. As though he were preparing to leap from one of the city's large stone bases to another.
The Konti eyed him cautiously as she stepped to the right, moving around him a little as she pulled her blade out to the right side of her body, before swinging it back in, to strike his outer arm. The man easily side stepped before bringing his sword forward, whisking it under the silent sweep of Blythe's blade, towards her middle. The startled Konti had no time to retract her sword and block, thus, narrowly evading an injury. So instead, she simply drew back, into the shadows cast by the stone surroundings. The thick grey. Her sword hung awkwardly in the air as her eyes danced over him; and her eyes over her. Drinking her in. Her muscles, rippling softly beneath her glistening scaled flesh. Her thumbs ran along the hilt, moving towards, and then away from the grouping of her remaining fingers. It slithered like a snake.
Moments later, the man was coming for her. His sword poised in his center. Yet, as he neared, he swept it out drawing it from one of her shoulders, down to her middle. Blythe narrowly side stepped this initial attack, before he stepped forward, and swept it back up to her opposite shoulder, completing a "V." This time, instead of stepping out of the way, Blythe raised her sword to meet his, and within an instant, a deafening clang was ricocheting off the walls. It echoed for several seconds, as it slowly died down into nothingness. As though it were their one and only signal to keep going, the fighters reluctantly pulled back from each other, and were soon, staring each other down again. Looking for an opportune moment to strike. An area of weakness which they could exploit.
