sarcaskick | here be random shit [it's an open post for open post things ]

[ Em and I don't mess around, he says. Her nostrils flare as she thinks once again about their abbreviated spar a few scant weeks ago. ]

Nora [ said with the subtlest emphasis ] and I are very fortunate that our teammates have our backs.

[ As opposed to, you know, an uncomfortably sultry twenty eight year-old in a Beacon uniform. Just as an unrelated, completely fictional example. His remark is quite backhanded but Pyrrha would be lying if she said she hadn't heard worse. ]

Truthfully, I'm surprised you didn't resign halfway through the fight.

[ Maaaaybe she's being a bit passive aggressive. Look, she's stressed. ]

[ That last barb actually earns a laugh as he shrugs one shoulder, running a hand through his hair. ]

Ohhhh, I see what's up, now. C'mon, did you really think I'd show off my best moves before the tournament?

[ It wasn't a lie, not really - obviously he didn't want to let people see everything he was capable of so soon. It just wasn't entirely about the tournament itself. ]

Maybe you'll get lucky and get a remach in the finals. [ A pause - a dangerous lift of one eyebrow. ] Unless... you wanna have a match off the books, that is.

[ A good idea? Maybe not. Certainly not keeping a low profile as per orders. But coming out of a fight like that, he still felt like he had an itch to scratch. ]

[ It isn't a good idea. There are rules about unsanctioned combat on, or off, school grounds, although Pyrrha has never hesitated to break them for Jaune's sake. And she knows she wouldn't be at her best. If she sustained an injury before her her and Nora's next match, she'd be disappointing her team.

With all that going through her mind, the only thing Pyrrha says is — ]

You're not tired after your match?

I'd say I'm warmed up, if anything.

[ Trash talking beacon's finest? You bet your ass he is. ]

But I didn't necessarily mean right now. Then again, if you're that eager... I'll clear my afternoon.

[ There's a certain gleam in his eye - as if daring her to take him up on the offer, to give him a real honest-to-god fight today. ]

[ That dare skirting his words goes unacknowledged. In the face of his swagger, she's cool and composed. She doesn't need to prove anything to him; and, more importantly, she doesn't feel like she needs to prove anything to him. He's the one that forfeited. Not her. As far as she's concerned, he's had plenty of opportunities for a real fight. He doesn't get to control the timing of their rematch and she's not here for CFVY's scraps. ]

My team is expecting me, I'm afraid.

[ On the other hand, she's been terribly bored with— with most of it, honestly. Going at half pace for Jaune. The little matches in the classrooms. Her muscle memory itches for more.

So, this, then: ] Tomorrow? [ After he's had some rest. ]

[ Truth be told, he didn't think she would accept. Her reputation was as Beacon's golden child, after all, and he did get a certain goody-two-shoes vibe from her. It was a fun thought to entertain, a rematch, but there was no way she'd seriously entertain the thought. Her remark about her team aligns with that - a convenient excuse, and he waits for her to follow up by telling him that they could both get in trouble for fighting unsupervised, that they had to act with honor or integrity or some other bull--

tomorrow?

Oh. Oh, okay, so this was happening. So much the better. ]

Think I can make that work, yeah. You know the area - just tell me when and where you want me.

[ phrasing... ]

[ She pulls a bit of a face at his word choice even as she's pulling her scroll out from her pouch. ]

We can reserve a gymnasium.

[ With the tournament well underway, the staff is likely going to be a bit too busy to finesse the requests coming in. Besides, the professors at Beacon typically fall all over themselves when it comes to Pyrrha. A week ago, she would have hesitated to take advantage of it. A few quick swipes and thumb presses and his own scroll should be beeping with an airdropped calendar invite.

Helpfully: ] The administration won't approve the reserve unless you accept the invitation.

[ if he thought she was a goody two-shoes before, well guess what ]

[ ... Okay, so a goody-two-shoes with rare exception, then. He had hoped for something less formal, but whatever. He'll roll with it. He tugs his scroll from his pocket as it beeps, glancing at the screen briefly. The credentials offered by a certain cowardly lion were enough to sneak them onto Haven's roster, but he hadn't really tried to do anything else with them. Would they work, or would this send up some kind of red flag?

... Eh.

He taps the invite, and thankfully (for him, at least) the process goes through without a hitch. ]

Aaaaand there we go. Looks like we're all set. [ Slipping the scroll back into his pocket, he eyes her with - you guessed it!! - a smirk. ]

Don't be late, champ. I hate waiting.

[ Hand on her hip, this time she does roll her eyes. ]

You can call me Pyrrha, you know.

[ Enough with this champ malarkey ]

Yeah, I know.

[ Said with a wink, because this fucking guy ]

[ Her eyebrows raise a bit beneath her fringe. The message there, largely unintentional, is - you're strange. She tucks her scroll and heads out without so much as a goodbye. Ten minutes in his presence and she's simultaneously in over her head and distinctly underwhelmed. It's a unique situation for Pyrrha; she isn't sure she likes it yet. If nothing else, it's a distraction from knowing Amber's vital signs beat a dangerously low staccato somewhere beneath their feet.

The next morning, the whole thing feels a bit foolish. She considers not going, but with classes suspended for the tournament and her team members happily — blindly, even — coasting on the glow their previous victory, she needs the diversion of combat more than ever.

As luck would have it, she does end up being a bit late. Five minutes late, in fact. ]

Sorry! [ she says when she sees him. ] One of my professors stopped me on my way here. [ Goodwitch, in fact, for a brief conversation that only left Pyrrha feeling more sullen and restless. ] Shall we?

[ For one reason or another, he doesn't convey to anyone where he's going the next day; Cinder doesn't really keep them on too tight a leash so long as they aren't making trouble, and Emerald was off playing nice with someone from team RWBY (he couldn't be bothered to confirm which one it was... or did she tell him and he just dismissed it as unimportant? whatever), so it's not like he had to report his plans for the day. If he was needed, they'd give him a call.

It's a little bit unlike him to actually show up on time, but there's some part of him that genuinely looks forward to this - a real fight to sink his teeth into, even if her semblance is uniquely difficult for him to handle. But he's no stranger to an uphill battle, and it's not like it was really life or death ~~yet~~. So not only is he on time, he's even a minute or two early.

She isn't.

That's annoying.

When she arrives she'll find him in the middle of some stretches, arms overhead as he leans to one side. At the sound of her voice he turns his head to peer at her, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. ]

It's rude to keep a guy waiting, you know.

[ But as he lowers his arms to face her she'll note that his expression is serious, eyes hard as they stare her down. There would be time for taunting later - right now, he's taking her seriously.

He lifts his hands, fingers curling as if to beckon her. ]

So let's not waste any more time. Come at me.

[ ... more or less seriously, anyway. ]

[ She's surprised by the abrupt change in attitude. So far, he's been smug and irreverent in battle. Effective, yes, but with a capricious edge to match. The intensity almost catches her off guard. Almost. Akoúo̱ slips off her back and settles onto her arm with a subtle twitch of her shoulder while Miló remains at her back and then she's barreling forward. A run at first, and then using her momentum (and a little bit of magnetism) to come at him like a cannonball.

The feeling of ridiculousness from the morning sloughs off as soon as her muscles start working. Even if she isn't being a great teammate, even if Ozpin and his cabal bear down on her while she struggles to make a decision, even if their showing at the tournament was an embarrassment... This, here, is something she can do. In close-quarters combat, everything makes sense.

Her goal is to drive him back, gain as much ground as she can in a short amount of time. If he gains the air, she'll have a harder fight moving forward. ]

Edited 2022-12-26 22:24 (UTC)

[ The first time they fought, he only took it half-seriously - because the point then wasn't to win, it was only to gauge her ability, to get a peek at her semblance so they'd know just what they were up against. This time it's different - there's no prize on the line beyond his own pride and ego, and yet in a way those were the things that mattered most to him.

He has to prove, still, that he's strong, even if the reward he wants for that strength may never return.

She's fast, and he has precious little time to decide on his course of action. He could blast up into the air, but that's probably what she expects now that she's seen him in action. No, he wants to take this into the closest range possible, where fists and limbs can outmaneuver blades and spears. So he charges her in turn, sliding to the ground as they draw near to swing his leg out in a sweep, an attack that would turn into a whirlwind of kicks high and low if left uninterrupted. ]

[ He doesn't telegraph his attack so she's left with precious little time to dodge. In an ideal situation, she would jump over his low sleep entirely and roll to a standing position behind him. What unfolds is slightly less than ideal: with a sidestep, she bears down on her heels to make sure her stance is impenetrable and allows her shield to bear the brunt of his whirlwind, and then... patience.

It's only a few seconds, as these things go, but Mercury's onslaught feels everlasting and relentless as Pyrrha waits for an opening. The moment she's given one, she lashes out toward his face twice. First, with the flat of her shield, and then a hard jab with her opposite elbow. For the moment, her strategy is to force him to use his arms. He's shorter than her, after all. His reach can only go so far.

Not pulling out her main weapon is an unusual tactic for Pyrrha. Even she isn't entirely sure why she's doing so, other than a misplaced and poorly defined display of stubbornness meant for people who aren't even here. ]

[ Each blow against her shield echoes throughout the gymnasium, and he knows she needs to figure out some way to counter him eventually. She can turtle up all she wants, but if she doesn't fight back he will find an opening either above or around her, and she's too smart for that - at least, that's what he assumes from what he's seen thus far. He notices her shield start to move - this must be it. He weaves back out of reach for that swing of her shield, starting to zip back into attack range--

He notices the elbow too late, a solid blow connecting with his cheek and snapping his head to one side, a grunt of pain escaping him and shaking his vision briefly. Yet even in that moment his arm is snapping out, reaching for the arm that just struck him to attempt to grab it and throw her off-balance, aiming to fire a blast from his greaves that will send his knee into her gut at rocket speed. She got the first hit - credit where credit's due, she's good.

But if it turns into a close-range slugfest, he's confident he has more experience in taking a beating than she does. ]

[ She slides a few inches back when thrown. Her stomach muscles turn on when his knee strikes true, trying to spare her aura as much as possible by letting her body do the work. Her battle-corset is hardly flimsy, but she feels the blow rattle through her ribcage regardless.

Well, a bruise or two will toughen her up. She'll need that, if she — when she —

A flick of her wrist and her weapon is in hand, immediately elongated into its javelin form. She bears down with the reach it affords her. Whirling like a dervish, her weapon little more than a reddish glint weaving through the air, she lashes out again and again and again. Ideally, she will also have created some distance between the two of them.

Unless her blows are so significant that she barrels out of her icon and into his. ]

[ Oh hey, yeah, there she is!

--But only for a moment. He had been wondering what was taking her so long to draw her weapon, but as soon as it's in her hand he darts back, narrowly avoiding the first strike as it slices the air in front of his nose. He continues backing up, her assault leaving little room for a counter-attack; he dodges the high strikes and deflects the lower ones with his greaves, trying to figure out when and where best to strike. She's gaining momentum. First, he has to interrupt it.

As soon as the next strike swipes through the air he fires blasts from his greaves again to launch him backwards, spiraling through the air as he takes a few shots at her mid-flight; not so much to do real damage, more to help reinforce the distance he's putting between them. He catches himself on his hands, flipping backward onto his feet; this ought to create a lull, much as there had been several the first time they fought. Brief clashes, separations, reevaluations of strategies... this hadn't been necessary against Coco and Yatsuhashi.

His eyes are still hard, focused, but the grin can't leave his lips; now this is what he was looking for. ]

Not too shabby, champ-- oh, sorry. Pyrrha.

[ Across the floor, he grins - and her chin lifts, stifling a swallow as her body straightens that last little inch. By contrast, her expression is as diplomatically neutral as it’s been since their conversation yesterday, the set of her mouth neither kind nor unkind.

There's still that stupid little epithet he throws at her but... Whatever. She lets it go. The last thing she wants to do is talk.

In fact, she barely lets him finish his sentence before she's pushing forward again. At a run, she fires off a few shots before the rifle morphs to shortsword functionality; all without missing a step or affecting a moment's pause. Her goal is the same as it was a few minutes ago: keep pushing him back as much as she can. As strategies go, it's quite rudimentary; but she doesn't need finesse right now. She needs... She doesn't know what she needs. Nor does she really know why she's even here. Hoping an exhaustive fight will quiet her mind, perhaps.

Not that it actually can be called exhaustive. Not yet. As Pyrrha attacks again (and again, and—), she expends a tiny amount of her Semblance so that her weapon comes down just that much harder on any metal filaments in Mercury's clothing. It results in a downward sweeping swing that's uncommonly brutal — something she fails to really take stock of in the heat of the moment. ]

Edited (Missed an apostrophe! ) 2022-12-28 04:36 (UTC)

[ Her silence is fine - it's not like he needs a conversation in order to run his mouth. Besides, they were having a very different sort of conversation now, trading blows instead of words, and truth be told it's a language he much prefers.

He doesn't charge her in kind this time, reacting first to those shots - dodging most, snapping his knee up to block another, though the impact alone definitely affects his aura. She's fast, efficient, and as she reenters melee range? Ruthless, in her attacks. Thankfully that's why he has metal on his gloves as well, using his forearms to redirect blows that come dangerously close to landing true. Just like before - weather the storm, wait for the opening. Another swing comes from overhead, both of his arms rising to block - and it's a damn good thing, because that strike comes down with unexpected weight, driving him instantly to one knee before her. It's not as all-out as the strike from Yatsuhashi, but if she can land blows like this quickly? Much more dangerous than the other swordsman's powerful but easily-read attacks.

But more importantly, he's kneeling before her.

And fuck that.

He uses his legs to start pushing himself back up against the pressure of her sword, leaning back as he fires his boots to give him the extra oomph to break free - and to flip backwards with the toe of his boot aimed square for her chin. Unlike her, he is fully aware of just how much that would hurt if it hit her, fully aware of the brutality of it.

He just doesn't give a damn. ]

[ The blow lands. Her head drives back, chin jerking upward to briefly expose the scant inch of bare skin at her neck. For once, she wasn't too fast for it. The force of the impact rattles through her teeth and the undercurve of her skull, a brief moment of tenderness at the jaw.

That's fine. Another bruise she won't see, another lesson. That move won't work the next time he tries it.

Anyway, isn't this why she sought him out? For a reprieve from the utter dullness of most of what Beacon has offered her so far. Team CRDL had been four-on-one and she hadn't even broken a sweat. And, of course, for the opportunity to gain a better idea of what the wider world may have in store for her when she — when Amber — well.

Pyrrha obviously has a lot to think about. Not least of which is the way the brief sight of him kneeling had caught at her throat, or her diaphragm, or - somewhere between. This isn't the time for any of that, though; she'll be a terrible ~~Maiden~~ Huntress if she can't decompartmentalise. As the kinetic energy his kick had left dissipates down into her muscles, she ignores the lingering tension in her jaw. He took back a bit of space with his last few strikes. She seeks to reclaim it now. In fact, she takes a page from his book to do it: the shortsword leads off in a flurry of blows meant to get inside his guard, and then she aims a strong kick to his midsection before he has the chance to figure out what she's doing. ]

[ It's sick, maybe, the thrum of satisfaction that pulses through him at the sensation of that blow landing true. When violence is all you know, you start to take pleasure in strange, worrisome things. That one had to hurt, had to make her see stars, and as he lands on his feet a short distance back he raises his head to see his handiwork--

she's already on him.

It's only thanks to instincts honed over a childhood of combat that he can react to the first swing in time, stepping quick to one side so it glances off the armor on his shoulder. She really wasn't fazed at all. He'd seen people go down to kicks of half that strength - hell, the blows that felled Yatsuhashi weren't even as fierce. She's actually strong. She's actually a real fighter in this school of children.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind that he hasn't felt in a while. Excitement, maybe?

But there's certainly no time to consider any of that right now, not with her bearing down on him with strike after strike, and he's almost a little annoyed at being thrust on the defensive like this - he can barely keep his eyes of her swordplay, which is why that kick flies right under the radar and right into his ribs, causing him to double over just slightly as the wind threatens to escape his lungs. Should have seen it coming. Have to be faster.

Don't let her take the moment.

His leg snaps low, aiming to hook his heel behind her knee at close range to buckle her stance - and in a rare change of form, it's his palm that strikes out, a blow aimed between her shoulder and her chest meant to force her down onto her back. ]

[ The downside of getting inside someone's guard is that they are also now inside yours. In those instances, being strong was one thing; and she's been strong her whole life. The subtlety and the guile had come later. There were times when she was painfully aware of what her Semblance could do if she truly let loose, and the sacrifice she made for the impression of invincibility. Even without knowing what Mercury's legs are truly made of, Pyrrha knows he has enough metal on his greaves and vambraces that she could throw him through the wall - with or without disguising it as a well-aimed kick.

Because she's unwilling to do any of that, she's facing the consequences now. There's no room left between them for the momentum of a strike that could conceivably mask a push from her Semblance. She's able to catch the incoming palm by letting her shield absorb the hit, but it comes at the cost of her balance. With his leg compromising her own, her back hits the floor with a distinct, calamitous thud.

Well, at least she lasted longer than Yatsuhashi.

Breathing heavily, Pyrrha uses the tangle of limbs he's already created to loop her legs around his and, ideally, throw him over her head. ]

Edited 2022-12-30 00:30 (UTC)

[ Just as she might have felt a certain way about seeing him on his knee before her a few moments prior, the sight of her on her back beneath him is a treat. Obviously the fight isn't over - the blow was more about getting an upper hand than finishing things outright - but it still brings him satisfaction to know that she has to take him seriously, even if he hadn't done her the same honor in their sparring match not long ago. He has a moment to loom over her, eyes sharp, lips pulled to one side in a cocky grin that flashes teeth--

And then the world is flipped upside-down, her legs doing the job of tossing him in a feat of strength that legitimately catches him off-guard. No, it's possible she's using her semblance... he had considered coming in different attire, but he didn't want her to know that he knew what her Semblance was. It also would have hindered his ability to actually block her attacks directly, and it wasn't like this fight was life-or-death.

Maybe it's because he was still having trouble breathing fully from her kick earlier, but what would normally be a quick and easy spring off of his hands to catch himself has him falter and hit the ground just past her on his shoulder - but she's down for the moment too, and if he can keep the fight on the ground he feels confident in his victory. It's why rather than taking the moment to get to his feet he's reaching for her wrists, trying to pin them both to the ground before she gets out of his reach. ]

[ Her goal had been to roll to her feet the moment she was clear of him, on the assumption that he would do similarly. The fact that he's reaching for her wrists catches her off guard. Through this fight, one very important lesson keeps being reinforced over and over — and it's that Mercury Black isn't one for telegraphs, isn't given to predictable behaviour. He fights on instinct, not pattern, and that same instinct is completely indecipherable. She isn't sure there is anything behind it at all.

But now her thoughts are entirely on him. Not Ozpin, not Amber, not the tournament, not the decisions weighing her down, not Beacon, not even her team. And Pyrrha doesn't even realise it, except for looking - and feeling - clearer and more lively than she has in days.

Pulling her weapon back toward her, Pyrrha is halfway to a knee before he can reach her wrists. Miló's cool flat edge rests a careful inch from his throat.

In her pouch, her scroll gives a warning beep, which she ignores. ]

Yield?

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goddamn fight scenes how do they work

messily, that's how-- if you wanna fast forward i'm 1000% down with any outcome

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