Though their intent was not to hurt each other, the contact their sticks made on each other's body sounded quite painful. Hemming cringed as his own attack connected with Asha's shoulder, and he hesitated for a moment. The actions she took betrayed the pain that was hidden beneath their heavy cloak of fantasy, and the male shrunk back a little, his brows furrowing in unavoidable guilt. Lady Asha recovered quickly, though, and cried out a warning. A snarl that Hemming really wouldn't have been able to imagine coming from the dainty female escaped her throat, and she adopted a more sinister form. Though he wasn't feeling all that confident (her act of admonition must have worked), he replied loftily, "You speak not the truth, Lady Asha! My kingdom shall be strong, and will not fall nor falter before your iron hand!" With that remark, the time for feeling guilty was over and replaced by a distinct need for self defense.
Lady Asha, proving herself an indomitable warrior, launched herself forward again. The stick she held was flung from side to side, and Hemming had immense difficulty in tracking it. His eyes darted back and forth, and he held his own stick with both hands, straight out in front of him. His breathing was a little heavier than usual, this activity more strenuous than what he was accustomed to, and it was starting to feel as if there was fire running through the veins that wound through his legs. He kept them bent in anticipation of her attack, staggered slightly for better balance, and continued to try to watch. Swinging his own stick in time to hers would surely result in failure, since he didn't have the same swiftness as did she, so he continued to hold it still even as she drew nearer.
She was there in an instant, her stick contacting sharply with his side. He inhaled sharply, surprised by the hit despite its inevitability, and staggered away from it sideways. Wrapping one arm around his front and stumbling tipsy-turvy for a few steps, he cried out, "Woe! I am the very embodiment of it!" Hemming waved his stick around a little. "But I shall not accept defeat, my Lady!" Taking a big breath and raising his shoulders defiantly, he straightened his sword, pointing it at his opponent. He would not be able to mimic the attack that she had just employed (and felt vaguely ashamed to be so out of shape), and instead waved the tip of his stick at her in a circle before lunging forward and swiping it upwards. If he was lucky he might hit her on her side, or perhaps the underside of her arm. |