The noises Vergil makes bring satisfaction, something like music to her ears, not to be the only one making those sounds as they fight. Mizu ignores the threat of hollowness to that feeling, and a hard blow that sends her head ringing clears any thoughts about anything but the fight. That moment. The fact that Vergil only ever goes for distance to create space for something inhuman, impressive, and irritating. Something that is readily apparent as Mizu readies herself to face it.
Had she the time, Mizu would give Vergil a look that conveys exactly what she thinks of moves like this. However, the numerous sharp pointed objects rain down toward her in less time than that would take. The pain she is in is nothing. Mizu moves toward one side, sweeping those blades aside first in the small time that buys her from the rest. Her sword continues moving, and Mizu—fuck the lesson about the disadvantage in going to the floor—drops in a roll to the ground as her sword sweeps aside the rest.
Well. Almost all the rest.
One sword deflects but not far enough. It pierces her arm. Mizu cries out in frustration, and pain, even as she continues to roll back to standing. No time to concern herself with the latest injury because Vergil attacks again. There's no time for anything but to block the blow while redirecting it away from her. The force of his attack reverberates through her, and her body frees itself of yet more blood as a consequence. His strike need not land to wound her. Even so much costs her dearly. A moment most people might consider the right time to concede.
Instead, Mizu moves in and, despite her body's protests, switches to a one handed grip on her sword. She reaches for Vergil's arm, to use to pull herself in and, though it likely will not land, skewer him from the side with her sword. Defeat is for those who accept it.
no subject
Had she the time, Mizu would give Vergil a look that conveys exactly what she thinks of moves like this. However, the numerous sharp pointed objects rain down toward her in less time than that would take. The pain she is in is nothing. Mizu moves toward one side, sweeping those blades aside first in the small time that buys her from the rest. Her sword continues moving, and Mizu—fuck the lesson about the disadvantage in going to the floor—drops in a roll to the ground as her sword sweeps aside the rest.
Well. Almost all the rest.
One sword deflects but not far enough. It pierces her arm. Mizu cries out in frustration, and pain, even as she continues to roll back to standing. No time to concern herself with the latest injury because Vergil attacks again. There's no time for anything but to block the blow while redirecting it away from her. The force of his attack reverberates through her, and her body frees itself of yet more blood as a consequence. His strike need not land to wound her. Even so much costs her dearly. A moment most people might consider the right time to concede.
Instead, Mizu moves in and, despite her body's protests, switches to a one handed grip on her sword. She reaches for Vergil's arm, to use to pull herself in and, though it likely will not land, skewer him from the side with her sword. Defeat is for those who accept it.