Oh, he was so close. The female managed to evade his swing, though, letting out a little exclamation as she dodged the swift tip of the stick. Hemming, a little off balance from his lunge, pulled himself back out and shifted his feet a little to steady himself. At the same time, Asha was doing some kind of dance, and Hemming struggled to anticipate what might be coming. He kept his stick steady, in a position that he imagined would be a good place from which to move it anywhere, and hoped that he wouldn't be caught too off guard.
The warrior princess finished her little dance with a nimble spin, and Hemming moved rapidly to try to escape her attack. His legs straightened as he pushed his chest backwards in order to get out of the way of her strike. It came close to his body, a little closer than his had come to hers, and he could hear the sharp noise it made as it cleaved the air. At the same time he was trying to dodge it, the male moved his stick down to swipe hers away, outwards from his body. He was a little late, and his stick was contacted at its very end. With a snap that wasn't quite as dramatic as it should've been, the stick folded over in the middle, the end piece hanging by only a little strip of dead bark.
"Inferior weaponry! My blacksmith shall hear of this!" he cried, out of breath, and flung the stick up into the air behind him. Defenseless, he shuffled crabwise towards where Asha had been sitting when he had entered the clearing, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He felt extraordinarily vulnerable, the mercy of the lady being the only thing keeping him from being slain. Approaching the couple of branches that she had collected, he bent down and reached towards one. "Would you mind, your Grace?" |