IT’S RARE THAT SHE FINDS SOMEONE THAT CAN MATCH HER : a true challenge at last, the kind that makes her muscles strain & sweat gather at her brow. she can’t recall how long her & belmont have been at it --- dodging whipstrike after whipstrike as he seems to narrowly avoid every lash of her clawed gauntlet, every swipe of her blade. realistically, one of them will have to admit defeat --- they cannot go on in perpetuity without rest. & their exhaustion leaves openings --- to exchange blows, TO END THIS CLASH OF WITS & STEEL.
one such opportunity presents itself -- & she SEIZES IT: sidestepping one of trevor’s charges & kicking his legs out from under him. before he can recover, a heeled boot plants firmly upon his chest --- & there she is , wild curls and all as she kneels ‘pon her opponent , PERCHED LIKE A QUEEN UPON A THRONE.
“ YIELD. “ it’s uttered with a snarl, punctuated by a plunge of her greatsword so dangerously close to his throat, sweat rolling from her brow. harsh breathing filters through fanged, gaping maw as hotaru grins in seemingly - assured victory --- fuckin’ finally. “ i won’t ask again , blue eyes. ‘sides -- “ & her eyes seem to pulse with light, bluer than anything of this world before fading ever slightly, “ i’m fuckin’ starving. ” / @belmourned asked for this a while back so BONJOUR, MOTHERFUCKER!
