ORIGIN

There it is: pain. It shot through her limbs as she colided with the arena floor, and while she made an attempt to recover, Eurydome heard a second thump as Vakornol hit the floor behind her, too. Despite the adrenaline that the pain brought, she felt her muscles tense briefly.

Eurydome wasn't the only one out of practice.

Now would have been her chance to gain the upper hand, though the gladiator's mind lingered on Vakornol's words-- they didn't have to kill each other for someone else's amusement. It was a risk-- but it was the honourable thing to do.

She side-stepped, swept down and pulled her sword back into her hands, and then stepped right back. She didn't attack-- she didn't try to make any moves to keep Vakornol grounded there. She stepped back and she waited in silence for the Valkhound to pick herself back up with her ears flattened against the sides of her skull.

But she was at least, tentative. She watched carefully, half-searching Vakornol's eyes for intent and her limbs for sudden movements to continue her assault-- but for the time being, a tense silence lingered in the air as the dust around the arena slowly began to settle again in the stillness.

The Forsaken Reverant pushed herself up and Eurydome watched in silence, the muscles close to her spine tense as she backed away and-- more importantly --was permitted to back away, even after Vakornol's offer to attack first. As much as it was a polite offer, it was one Eurydome didn't quite want. She was half-surprised that Vakornol even wanted to continue this oddly private affair.

... but fair enough.

Oversized paws twisted thoughtfully in the dirt, claws digging into the arena's substrate. The Valkhound would be expecting usual attacks; charging, swinging, kicking, screaming. Eurydome had to be smarter than that. Her legs took her rightward, towards the dead-center of the arena and she found Vakornol moving with her, covering her flanks, refusing to give her the edge of seeing the Valkhound's sides.

A spell it was, then-- she could pull off something to make sure that Vakornol couldn't move; but where was the fun in that? The centuar came to a stop and steadied herself where she stood, knuckles turning pale as she held her blade in a death grip.

She breathed. A little surge of magicka and it was all she needed; the sound was subtle at first. A distant, far-off murmur of nothing in particular. A beat later it exploded into something anew; a monotone, high-pitched buzz like mosquito wings that only grew louder in volume as if coming closer to the arena.

She hoped it'd be enough, if even a moment, to expose an opening.

Eurydome shuffled; and Vakornol was blind to it. Dust spilled from the arena floor where her paws had been only a beat before and she knew that now was her chance. While the spell was still making impact with the air the centuar began to charge forward, her sword drawn.

If she were lucky, Vakornol wouldn't have the chance to move in time. If she were lucky, the amaranth sword wouldn't skid off the pebble-like scales on the Reverant's ribcage. If she were lucky, Vakornol wouldn't turn around and kill her where she stood.

Hell, she swore quietly-- but the fight had gone past entertainment alone for the centuar. There was no time to regret her actions, especially while she was still filling them out.

Her spare hand gripped the hilt of her sword as, once in range, she moved to plunge the blade into Vakornol's ribs.

Shit.
There was a delicate snap of ribs cracking in Eurydome's upper torso as Vakornol's shoulder connected with her sternum. Even as blind as Vakornol's attempt was, it was a hard hit-- and out of her own blind instinct, Eurydome reacted immediately.

She snarled, mouth open and face crinkled with pain. Her sword-arm lifted and then sent the amethyst blade in an arc downwards for Vakornol's ribcage-- this time, from the shoulderblade that was still in close contact with her own chest.

Maybe it was a good thing no one was here to witness the fight, after all. It had quickly turned embarassing.

Eurydome was hardly breathing.

Heart beating hard against fractured ribs; blood rushing in her ears. Was it the adrenaline, or something else? The knowledge that at in the blink of an eye, Eurydome could lose her entire arm to the rows of teeth in Vakornol's jaws? The skin beneath her fur was hot and the centuar fell unnaturally still; muscles tensing in the Reverant's grip.

"I think it's clear," she said, barely above a shallow whisper, "that both of us are severely out of practice."

Embarassing might have been one word for it, sure, but if this had been a real fight, with a real audience, they'd both have been punished for a terrible display. If they were particularly unlucky, they might have been culled to create something that could show more... tact.

Her arm twisted and then bent at the shoulder; she only just managed to scrap her wrist out of Vakornol's grip with minimal damage (the slightest gold buds dripping from her fur) and her paws brought her backwards-- but she made no more attempts to bring herself upon Vakornol further. She licked the blood from her wrist and frowned, looking over the Valkhound.

She shook her fur out after a moment. As the adrenaline faded from her limbs, she was suddenly aware of the thrumming of pain throughout her body. "I have an offer," the centuar said-- "you may not like it."

A pace-- a few steps to Vakornol's left with a wide bearth, her brow furrowed and her sword settling onto its resting position: hanging idly on her shoulder. She needed to find the scabbard for that thing. "What if we worked to train each other back up? Together," she added.

"We could have a rematch when we are both back to our best."