The Raen woman was indeed full of surprises, this case in particular proving to be the most impressive. That she were willing to stare death in the face was a testament to her beliefs... and to even trust this vicious stranger to raise arms against her. Were they one in the same thing? Perhaps, perhaps not. Though either way, the gesture alone would never be enough to sate the Xaelan's appetite. A show of faith was non-negotiable.
His frozen, obsidian stare bore down upon the frail target that stood but a distance away from him, her back facing the wall by the doorway, and her focus aimed with intent upon he who demanded the unreasonable. No words of praise nor mockery would run to greet her icy, cool acceptance - nor so much as a nod of acknowledgement. Seldom had the male spared Yura from his vicious personality, unknown to her perhaps was a nature that took any other form when it came to the man she had saved, though he was serious now; ferocious was his visage and threatening his demeanour, but at the very least, the girl had earned anything but his spite in this moment.
Faint. The light thumps underfoot as the warrior slowly withdrew a few paces to permit himself more room to charge forth - his gaze channelled just as intently upon the Raen as hers was upon him. Drawing to an eventual halt, eyes still focused upon she who would remain absolute in her motives - not wavering so much as an inch as she awaited her trial of judgement. Her composure was forged of steel, her presence seemingly melting into the eerie silence that had fallen upon the room in those moments. His stance shifted steadily, legs forming a wide and solid base while his other hand drew slowly across to meet with it's counterpart on the haft of the massive blade. His form shrunk closer to the floor, his loss of height doing nothing to relieve him of that intimidating dominance that ever persisted so long as he was present. But a second would pass and the blade clinked weakly in warning, his grip firm and readied - the last opportunity for the woman to back down.... though her voice would not come.
[...]
Thunder greeted their ears as the flooring cried aloud in protest. Solid steel lashed through the air in search of a crimson scenery.... and just as quickly as it all began, it was over.
[...]
The outcome was not to be feared, he had told himself. It would be just a much a test of himself as it would her. Her words, regardless of the insanity from which they were born, were an olive branch extended to he, a crippled, shadow of his former self. If she died, then as would that queer curiosity that had been stirred up deep beneath his scarred pride - the inevitable retribution enacted upon him by her kin would only be befitting for all that was left of him.
It didn't matter. In the end, no amount of Dotharl blood could redeem what is.
And if she lived? ....an incomplete thought that mere notion had remained - even after he had already begun his charge. Too inconceivable to so much as consider; far too hopeful for someone with a background painted in blood. A contradiction, but he would not be deterred from his course.
No matter what, he could not hesitate. He wouldn't.
So why?
".........."
...Why did his blade not follow through?
"..................."
The Raen had not moved so much as an inch. By all accounts she should be dead. She failed to save herself.
She failed to predict where the blade would strike, and yet....
.....and yet she still breathes.
Heavy, exerted breathing decorated the surface of his blade with a thin, film of mist as it hung, locked in position mere ilms between he and his target; it's unforgiving edge not nearly as sharp as the eyes that peered out over it.
His frozen, obsidian stare bore down upon the frail target that stood but a distance away from him, her back facing the wall by the doorway, and her focus aimed with intent upon he who demanded the unreasonable. No words of praise nor mockery would run to greet her icy, cool acceptance - nor so much as a nod of acknowledgement. Seldom had the male spared Yura from his vicious personality, unknown to her perhaps was a nature that took any other form when it came to the man she had saved, though he was serious now; ferocious was his visage and threatening his demeanour, but at the very least, the girl had earned anything but his spite in this moment.
Faint. The light thumps underfoot as the warrior slowly withdrew a few paces to permit himself more room to charge forth - his gaze channelled just as intently upon the Raen as hers was upon him. Drawing to an eventual halt, eyes still focused upon she who would remain absolute in her motives - not wavering so much as an inch as she awaited her trial of judgement. Her composure was forged of steel, her presence seemingly melting into the eerie silence that had fallen upon the room in those moments. His stance shifted steadily, legs forming a wide and solid base while his other hand drew slowly across to meet with it's counterpart on the haft of the massive blade. His form shrunk closer to the floor, his loss of height doing nothing to relieve him of that intimidating dominance that ever persisted so long as he was present. But a second would pass and the blade clinked weakly in warning, his grip firm and readied - the last opportunity for the woman to back down.... though her voice would not come.
[...]
Thunder greeted their ears as the flooring cried aloud in protest. Solid steel lashed through the air in search of a crimson scenery.... and just as quickly as it all began, it was over.
[...]
The outcome was not to be feared, he had told himself. It would be just a much a test of himself as it would her. Her words, regardless of the insanity from which they were born, were an olive branch extended to he, a crippled, shadow of his former self. If she died, then as would that queer curiosity that had been stirred up deep beneath his scarred pride - the inevitable retribution enacted upon him by her kin would only be befitting for all that was left of him.
It didn't matter. In the end, no amount of Dotharl blood could redeem what is.
And if she lived? ....an incomplete thought that mere notion had remained - even after he had already begun his charge. Too inconceivable to so much as consider; far too hopeful for someone with a background painted in blood. A contradiction, but he would not be deterred from his course.
No matter what, he could not hesitate. He wouldn't.
So why?
".........."
...Why did his blade not follow through?
"..................."
The Raen had not moved so much as an inch. By all accounts she should be dead. She failed to save herself.
She failed to predict where the blade would strike, and yet....
.....and yet she still breathes.
Heavy, exerted breathing decorated the surface of his blade with a thin, film of mist as it hung, locked in position mere ilms between he and his target; it's unforgiving edge not nearly as sharp as the eyes that peered out over it.
Characters: Andre Winter (Hy'ur) / K'nahli Yohko (Miqo'te)