10-10-2012, 11:00 AM
Ohoho, enter Emwe soon I think, before Vesle dies or something ;> Also had to stop myself from laughing loudly at the study hall over "but then again, she supposed, this wolf was a special type of moron." XD
anacoluthon - WotD
#470
Vesle always beleived herself in control of things. Or, rather, she put herself only in situations where she would be in control of things. She was here because she ruled this place; she was fighting an Infernian because she led the vendetta against Inferni on behalf of... anyone who cared about their future. The gray female's voice was laden with the contempt she felt towards the hybrid in front of her, but she found herself dumbfounded. She was always in control, was she not? And yet there was a distinct feeling of lack of control in this situation. The knife was in the other one's hand; the disadvantage that Vesle was at was complete. The blood trickling from her arm was certainly proof enough of her poor position.
The other lashed out with her tongue, continuing the mind-game they were playing in parallell to their physical dance. The tiny wolfess stood crouched with her claws out, but her eyes glanced to the redness at the side of her - she could see her arm in the corner of her eye, or the blood at least. The hybrid's insult infuriated her, as she greatly valued her feeling of being intelligent. More intelligent than the average canine she had known, at least. But the sum of her situation was that her arm hurt, she didn't really know how to fight, Sepirah had a knife and the best she could muster as a response was a furious anacoluthon. Her name! "I could-- How dare you speak my name?!" It wasn't so much an insult back as an open window into the rage she now felt - the Soul name was far more revered than the filthy reputation of the Lykoi, or at least she thought so. That, and she didn't like it when others played her game back at her. Like a stubborn child, she was.
An experienced fighter would recognize how the anger gave rise to a weakness of mind, but Vesle did not know that, nor did she have the time to ponder it. The other came at her, knife in hand, same as Vesle did with one large step to the left and forward, to empower her strike. Her clumsy move and change of position gained her little in terms of Sepirah's damage, but somehow enabled her to dodge the blade to some degree; it had been intended for her softer parts, but now touched the front of her thigh, dangerously high up, too. She barked and immediately stepped forward again to strike the hybrid, sneering as pain seared from the wound and made her feel warm and unwell. It was deeper than the one on her arm. This time, fury fueled her blow. Whatever she caught next, she would pin or bite or... something - knife or no knife.
anacoluthon - WotD
#470
Vesle always beleived herself in control of things. Or, rather, she put herself only in situations where she would be in control of things. She was here because she ruled this place; she was fighting an Infernian because she led the vendetta against Inferni on behalf of... anyone who cared about their future. The gray female's voice was laden with the contempt she felt towards the hybrid in front of her, but she found herself dumbfounded. She was always in control, was she not? And yet there was a distinct feeling of lack of control in this situation. The knife was in the other one's hand; the disadvantage that Vesle was at was complete. The blood trickling from her arm was certainly proof enough of her poor position.
The other lashed out with her tongue, continuing the mind-game they were playing in parallell to their physical dance. The tiny wolfess stood crouched with her claws out, but her eyes glanced to the redness at the side of her - she could see her arm in the corner of her eye, or the blood at least. The hybrid's insult infuriated her, as she greatly valued her feeling of being intelligent. More intelligent than the average canine she had known, at least. But the sum of her situation was that her arm hurt, she didn't really know how to fight, Sepirah had a knife and the best she could muster as a response was a furious anacoluthon. Her name! "I could-- How dare you speak my name?!" It wasn't so much an insult back as an open window into the rage she now felt - the Soul name was far more revered than the filthy reputation of the Lykoi, or at least she thought so. That, and she didn't like it when others played her game back at her. Like a stubborn child, she was.
An experienced fighter would recognize how the anger gave rise to a weakness of mind, but Vesle did not know that, nor did she have the time to ponder it. The other came at her, knife in hand, same as Vesle did with one large step to the left and forward, to empower her strike. Her clumsy move and change of position gained her little in terms of Sepirah's damage, but somehow enabled her to dodge the blade to some degree; it had been intended for her softer parts, but now touched the front of her thigh, dangerously high up, too. She barked and immediately stepped forward again to strike the hybrid, sneering as pain seared from the wound and made her feel warm and unwell. It was deeper than the one on her arm. This time, fury fueled her blow. Whatever she caught next, she would pin or bite or... something - knife or no knife.