Getting the better of him stealth-wise is far from unheard of. Though it still a surprise when it does happen. An unpleasant one, but one nonetheless. Despite that, he is rather quick to notice a shift in the atmosphere. The air, which was once quiet and still, had suddenly become tense; thick enough to cut. At first, like the air around him, he is still. Perfectly calm. Even his breath is erased to allow total immersion into stillness of the moment. It’s only when something does tear through the tension filled wind like a knife through butter that the Uchiha reacts accordingly.
His pitch-black eyes — which seem to constantly emanate a cold air; the very definition of indifference — are charged with the thrill and urgency of battle. Like a light that flickers on and off, they don a scarlet hue in the blink of an eye. A gaze that, until a mere second prior to all of this, reflected naught but apathy becomes an unforgiving glare in the presence of sudden violence. It’s such a startling change. But in order to see the only thing that brings meaning to his existence realized, a swift reaction like that is absolutely necessary. And in this case, it’s the one thing that keeps death’s cruel touch at bay, if only for a while longer.
As he witnesses gargantuan steel and the lone figure to whom it belongs getting closer and closer to where he stands, his own blade is drawn in retaliation. Such efforts are for naught when executed by normal men. No common warrior would be able to ward off death when it approaches as swiftly as this. But he is far from normal. He refuses to meet the fate of average fools destined to fall by means of a sneak attack. For he possesses a drive greater than anyone in this world could even hope to fathom. The desire to live, to fight, and to see his sole purpose in life fulfilled all guide him forward with a sword firmly in his grasp…
Steel meets steel, and an ear-shattering ring that echoes through the vicinity quickly follows. His stern gaze meets her own as he attempts to assert dominance in their violent clash. It’s a true stalemate. He recognizes the look in her eyes as both combatants persist in their struggle. The same blend of insouciance and hatred that he and that man share are present in her stare as well. Which means holding back is tantamount to suicide against a foe with a presence as severe as his own.
Does he know who she is? No. Does he care for her identity or why she targeted him? Absolutely not. But one thing is certain. Though he may not possess the intent to kill, he has no intention of letting her walk out of here unscathed.
well met, truly. she would find a sort of appeasement drawn from the clash of their union; good, he would not fall before her as so many to precede him had. sole would plant firmly upon solid ground beneath, digits wound tight about the hilt of her beloved blade as she pressed forth in equal challenge of dominance. gold saw had never been known to remain still for long when in the midst of a battle, though patience (and observation) was not something lost in her ---- an assessment of her opposing would be made in the very short moment which they now shared, though a deadlock such as this would very well feel as an eternity.
steady in stance, as eyes would remain just so on those as equally fixed, a MIRROR to her own in ways beyond that of similar coloration. cold, relentless, as terrifying as they were magnificent. was she meant to cower beneath such a tempestuous stare? oh, on the contrary! the devil would admire the very dance between wrath and hatred, each to fuel the other until a calamitous end.
a step forward was taken in means to force his own step back, king saw brought to sink further down upon the sword to stand in way. yes, he was swift to draw his own weapon and block her advances though speed alone could not win a fight, not when the one you faced was just as quick, and just as reactive as you. another step and so she continued to press, the friction of metal upon metal bringing forth a softer sort of screech than the initial. he had asserted himself, surely enough, as one with no desire to die upon that day and one to hold a will to fight ... but the dominant one in this exchange? no, that position was hers and hers alone. first, he must take it from her, and if not? he would become her newest conquest. momentarily would king saw be pulled away, raised, though immediately brought to crash down upon his steel in a surge of her own prowess and still would gold saw restrain. not yet, until she had him in the position which she wanted.
sink, sink, she would overwhelm him with crashing pressure. the closer she leaned, the further she drove his sword to lower, the more exposure he would have to her. another step, further leaning. a little more and she would have him. a slight bend of the knee, shifting ever closer. a little more, and she did. again would she use speed in her favor, sword drawn back towards her own person, elevated and then forced to pierce the ground beneath, cracks expanding beneath the contact point. timing and precision were of essence then and little time did she waste as the beast made her move upon her adversary, weight shifting upon her left leg while she SWUNG her right and collide with desired target in a disastrous display of pure, savage strength ---- a single beat unmissed. far too early still to resort to all which she had, though enough had been used to remove him from sight. a soft, near silent hum would thrum from within as she again lifted king saw up and placed it upon her shoulder. listlessly would she walk in the direction which she had sent him, for there was little need to rush towards him a second time. they had only just begun, and this was a game which she meant to prolong for as long as she felt necessary.
gracieabrams
stormborns
origamiaround
amandla
2087
dailybridgerton
