shelley_winters | (no subject)

(no subject)

Tiger in the Long Grass becomes Swallow in Flight.

Shelley readjusts her grip in the hilt of her practise sword, fingers already a little sore. It's been a very long time since she did - well, anything that counts as exercise. She was never strong, but it's a little worrying how hard this is. Earlier that week she had tried, and come over dizzy, but for now, although her breathing is a little too fast and her arms are starting to hurt, she feels all right.

Leaf on the Wind.

No, not right - it shakes and feels wrong, but as she tries again, it does the same. A small noise of discontent, and she moves on. She can look it up later.

Parting the Veil.

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She doesn't scream, but only by clenching her jaws hard even as she stumbles and falls to her knees, dropping the practise sword awkwardly and throwing out a hand to try and catch herself.

Jumping to his feet, Ishamael opened his hand and the staff vanished. Reaching out a hand to help her up, he spoke softly.

"...I thought you would dodge that, Lady Shelley. My apologies."

Of course he did.

Shelley reaches for the sword again instead of taking his hand, jumping to her feet on her own, and turning back to stand ready, face set.

The black staff reappeared in his hand as he raised an eyebrow. His voice was vaguely amused.

"Very well, then."

In an identical manner, he gestured with one hand in that relaxed pose. He had not come out too badly, and his strategy had not changed.

She tries differently this time, moving forwards slowly before lashing out fast, and higher than before. She has more a of a feel for the balance needed than before, feet spread carefully, eyes watchful.

Quick. She was certainly that, but he was faster, and while she was not incredibly poor with the sword, he was far more skilled. A quick flick of his wrist as he struck her blade at an angle with his staff to throw it upwards. She was small and had fewer openings as such. He would simply have to make a few.

Fun.

Shelley dodges back, fingers stinging, trying not to trip over her own feet. A frown crosses her face as she brings the blunt blade down across her body at a defensive angle.

It's hard, but good to have something real to do.

With both hands firmly on the staff, Ishamael struck upwards with a swinging motion as if the staff were an oar. There was a simple subtle pleasure in such activity.

She parries, just, both forearms aching at the force of the blow. But her wrists stay straight, and she readjusts her grip, moving sideways.

Turning the staff, he stabbed forward with it as if it were a spear. Let her taste what his abilities were. He was hardly an athlete, but neither was she.

Shelley dodges hard to one side, even as she flinches at the hard stabbing motion, just managing to deflect it enough to miss her - though one hand loses its grip on the handle in the process, and she stumbles back to gain space, breathing faster.

He laughed. Gesturing grandiosely with that same smug grin, Ishamael held himself rather open, letting her get her breath.

"Invigorating, is it not, Lady Shelley?"

Shelley swallows, cheeks flushed with effort in the cool air, hair askew. Her heart is beating almost painfully, reminding her how very long it's been since she did anything like this.

"...One- word for it."

Gesturing with one hand, he again invited her to attack him. It was more fun that way. He could feel his heart rate elevated, but this was frequently the case around her, though his exercise routines had been neglected over the past week.

"Enjoyable is another."

Shelley doesn't answer that, lunging forwards instead, point headed straight to his stomach. She's almost spent - might as well make the most of what she has left in her.

Thrusting his arm out, he kept the staff vertical, sweeping the point of the sword away from him. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated, but the smile had not yet left his face.

The girl pulls it back towards her again, and swings from the other side, a hasty but mostly accurate Swallow in Flight.

Spinning his staff, Ishamael again knocked the move back, before turning once himself to build momentum and strike.

Shelley moves back a wary half-step, pulling her practise sword back into a defensive postion. Her hands ache as she squeezes the handle tighter, nervous.

The end of his staff missed her face by a hair. A rush of air blew her hair at the speed of the blow. Turning once more, he let the staff spin behind his back to dissipate the momentum.

Still that smile.

Shelley breathes in sharply, still biting her lip, with a quiet hissing noise. Then he spins the staff away, and she darts forward to strike while the sees an opening.

He pulled his staff around his body, but not quickly enough. Her wooden sword connected soundly with his torso, and how Ishamael smiled. He, however, also had an opportunity, and pressed the staff forward, pushing Shelley against a tree with the horizontal staff across the lower part of her torso.

His face was very close to hers, a thin gleam of sweat on his brow. Oh, there was much pleasure in this.

Shelley cries out, sharp and short, at the joint blow of the staff across her body and her back hitting the tree. The practise sword dangles uselessly at her side from an aching arm.

Catching her breath, the girl grits her teeth to hide the panic and looks up through damp, untidy hair.

Ishamael smiled and gently kissed her on the lips. The fire in the blood. One of his hands relinquished the staff to brush her hair out of her face. He could feel the place she struck him beating with his heart.

After such a fierce fight, there was a pleasure in a soft kiss.

The rough tree trunk behind her scrapes on her palm as she drops her sword from nerveless fingers, head falling back, and she can't get any further away than that, oh-

Oh. God...

She tries to turn her face, it's wrong, and she can't get away, but it's wrong.