Were Mizu's arm not so badly hurt, she's sure she would have kept her sword. Instead, she's left staring at Vergil holding her sword. Not a sword of her own hand, to be sure; Mizu uses the blade she pulled from a book the first time they met. She blinks, her hand closing around open air, as she stares at him, at that image. It's more striking than his transformation into a demon. Strange, like something imagined, not actually happening.
His voice cuts through it, even as she starts to step toward him. Were they fighting to the death, she would carry on. She's faced dozens of men before, starting without a weapon. Her state would not deter her. With Vergil, however, Mizu can acknowledge there's no further victory at this point. Her steps lead her not toward him but the nearest wall. Mizu turns to lean against it and slowly, with as much control as she can muster, slide down.
Her knees jut up before her torso, and that brings a large wince as it pulls at the long slice across her body. Despite the blood flowing freely from one arm, Mizu physically rearranges her legs to sit cross legged. Blood soaks the snow around her. Indeed so much of the snow is red, it's striking. The color she associates with other people, not herself. Blue is her color. Her mind's wandering when Mizu needs it to focus. She grabs a large handful of clean white snow and holds it against her face. A painful shiver runs through her, but it clears her mind. Mizu feels more herself. More centered. For however long that lasts, she has to focus and meditate. Her eyes close, and Mizu focuses on the lessons swordfather gave her. His voice runs through her mind, a comfort, and her attention turns toward her new ability. To heal herself.
It is harder than any time before, the minor practice before today and even when she healed her leg. Her injuries are worse, and her ability to focus lessened. Something happens, but Mizu nearly passes out during it, her exhaustion so great. She straightens her spine forcefully, winces at the pain that still brings, and admits that what she can do that moment is over. Mizu runs over the sensation of her injuries. Her foot no longer hurts. That wound is healed. The rest, she cannot tell if there is any improvement.
Mizu groans and moves to stand again. The pain is nothing new, and she has looked after herself a long time.
no subject
His voice cuts through it, even as she starts to step toward him. Were they fighting to the death, she would carry on. She's faced dozens of men before, starting without a weapon. Her state would not deter her. With Vergil, however, Mizu can acknowledge there's no further victory at this point. Her steps lead her not toward him but the nearest wall. Mizu turns to lean against it and slowly, with as much control as she can muster, slide down.
Her knees jut up before her torso, and that brings a large wince as it pulls at the long slice across her body. Despite the blood flowing freely from one arm, Mizu physically rearranges her legs to sit cross legged. Blood soaks the snow around her. Indeed so much of the snow is red, it's striking. The color she associates with other people, not herself. Blue is her color. Her mind's wandering when Mizu needs it to focus. She grabs a large handful of clean white snow and holds it against her face. A painful shiver runs through her, but it clears her mind. Mizu feels more herself. More centered. For however long that lasts, she has to focus and meditate. Her eyes close, and Mizu focuses on the lessons swordfather gave her. His voice runs through her mind, a comfort, and her attention turns toward her new ability. To heal herself.
It is harder than any time before, the minor practice before today and even when she healed her leg. Her injuries are worse, and her ability to focus lessened. Something happens, but Mizu nearly passes out during it, her exhaustion so great. She straightens her spine forcefully, winces at the pain that still brings, and admits that what she can do that moment is over. Mizu runs over the sensation of her injuries. Her foot no longer hurts. That wound is healed. The rest, she cannot tell if there is any improvement.
Mizu groans and moves to stand again. The pain is nothing new, and she has looked after herself a long time.