Her blade’s first dance step had not been to pierce, as such a bold move rarely ever succeeded anywhere but in stories. He was fast though, coming at her and she shifted and withdrew from his snapping fangs, yet they had not been well aimed at any part of her. This was twisting to a very different scene the moment his jagged teeth had shone dimly in the shimmering spring light. Those teeth could saw through her and cause her life blood to escape from her. He was also faster than she had anticipated, but there would be no underestimating from her side from this moment on. His body partly crashed into her legs, but the girl was already on her way down into a crouch and let a hand temporarily find support in the hard ground before she shifted and turned with the sword hovering between the two beings, gathering her legs once again as she, finding his grin inappropriate yet paid it no more mind after establishing that fact.
Her body was not allowed to find stillness as long as she was engaged in battle, and her feet moved her slowly sideways in a similar pattern to that of that usual half circle enemies seem so fond to make while interacting with enemies. Her sensitive feet made out every inch of the ground she was walking, securing her hold of earth with a certainty and grace only dancers should. And she was a dancer. She closed in on the male, held the sword steadily between them in a turned angle that let the sword silently promise that blood would be shed if the male charged at her. She lashed out then at his form with the slightly curved weapon, a move meant to harm, yet her range was limited because the blade’s main objective was still to protect its owner against a direct dash at her form. The flat palm connected to the hand not holding the sword rested forcefully by the edge of the sharp sword, on the flat side, intent on supporting the sword in its task if the salt and pepper male was to try to try to have a go at her sides.
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