Grayell grinned through the pain as she got sloppy. There was a reason he'd been successful hunting her kind, she'd have to reign it in if she was going to hit him in human form.
His hands shot out, the backside of his wrists impacting with both her forearms. His feet switched, rear foot stepping through and beside hers as both arms now folded in....
His palms thrust out, both or them ramming into her torso with a thud. One to the throat, the other to the sternum. It would have dropped a normal combatant. Normal, she wasn't. Still, she needed air.
Grayell brought both hands in as his feet slid back, graceful gestures that did not betray the pain that wracked his body. His mind was taking sway over his receptors and the pain was becoming less of a factor.
Regulate your breathing. I'd like to have a chat whilst we play.
Grayell paced sideways, one foot behind the other. His shoulders and hands remained square with her, eyes on hers always. He stopped for a moment, opened his guard. She might take the bait.
No. You've gotten worse. You were stronger than this.
Now Grayell grinned. He raised an eyebrow, it was inevitable.
You should see me on a bad hair day... She recovered, and jumped, higher than any normal person had any right to, her foot coming in high at Grayell's chest. It was risky, but hopefully it would pay off.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Grayell gave her this one, he didn't want her losing it or running off before he was done. Her attacks were big, wide open and easily avoided - if he wanted to.
Her foot slammed into his chest and forced him sliding in the dirt - but his hands both locked onto her ankle. His hips turned, twisted his upper body and dragged her leg with him. He hadn't locked her leg so her knee folded to absorb the pain - but he whipped her with savage force into the ground.
He dusted off his chest, looking down at her. Inside, his lungs screamed for air, the blood still coagulating in his throat; but he refused to let it show.
He walked back, hands on his hips and chuckled.
It's enticing isn't it? All that power? Like making love - real love. You know, it's primal, it makes everything in you alive, more alive than you could ever know. The world changes. Your world. You own it.
I can understand why you changed Liseth. But you still haven't learned.
He rocked his arms back, elbows almost meeting behind him. His neck and shoulders cracked and he grimaced, but owned the pain. Hands came up again, another round.
Grayell shook out his hands, then let his arms drop to his sides. He walked toward he slowly, guard down.
Tell me then kitten, what does that power get you huh? What makes you happy? Am I to believe you've gone rabid and just thirst for blood? No, that's not quite it. C'mon Liseth, stop being coy.
Tell me what you want. Tell me what's missing.
His foot shot out. His lack of an aggressive stance had meant his front leg was 'empty' and his weight was all in his rear leg. It left his kick fast and precise, aimed directly at her knee.
Last Edit: Aug 24, 2011 22:58:28 GMT -5 by Grayell
It's not blood. It's power itself. She bobbed back, away from his kick, using the momentum to pull back a punch and throw it, darting forward, bringing it up to his chin.
You ever have an army at your command? Be able to make people bend to your will? That's power.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
He leaned back, she'd been well out before she threw a punch. She'd neglected everything she'd learned and this wasn't being the challenge he'd asked for. Not yet.
The punch whiffed, but his own elbow rocked up with the momentum, cracking into her elbow. An important hit. His rear foot shot back and his stance dropped instantly, his other palm striking her wrist. That same elbow now shot into her ribs, as his left wound around her arm, locking it up. His leg found hers, checked it so she couldn't kick him in the groin. He had her at her side, a very vulnerable position. His right hand dropped, but his left hand twisted, just enough to torque her arm uncomfortably. If she wanted it back, he'd have to let it go or she would have to harm herself. He had no doubt she would.
Grayell was closer now, his chest against her shoulder. His voice took on a different tone, this one somewhat menacing. Likely familiar to her.
You're a real piece of work. I offered you my life. You threw that in my face for power. You chose him, the worst betrayal I have suffered since that bastard took everything. He took you too.
But now..
He forced her arm down, twisted it a hair more. More torque would blow her shoulder.
... now you want it all for yourself? You're reckless. I thought maybe you had something left, maybe you still felt SOMETHING.
No. You just want me to do your dirty work. Flarb you.
His right arm shoved her shoulder as his left hand released, pushing her forward as he bounced back. He stood side on, legs wide apart. His right hand came up, palm facing the moon whilst his left guarded his sternum. He was not smiling.
She cried out a little as Grayell locked her up, her mouth twisting into a smirk.
You always were rough. And no. You're not wrong. I still like you, Grayell. I still feel something. But not as you are. As you should be. That's why I came out here without him knowing. To try and get you. Together we could rule everything.
She didn't try to wriggle out. She grunted as he tightened his grip. She even tried to get closer.
Dirty work? Maybe. Depends on what that means.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
He growled then, not a restrained, half human growl but something guttural and raw. His left hand snapped to her throat with unseen speed and in a fraction of a thought, he had her pinned, locked on her throat and her back to the wall. His right hand squeezed her right arm, pulled it away from her frame but he did not bother with her left. His grip was firm, dangerously firm; and threatened to crush her.
His eyes were that of the wild as his head snapped in, his nose pushing her hair away from her neck. He sniffed, rapidly, drawing her scent over his senses and his back bulged, swelled as he leaned closer. He leaned back enough to stare at her coldly, snarled directly into her face.
Shut the flarb up and don't move.
That wasn't a request but a command. His arms pushed harder as if to stress the point and it was vibrantly clear that Grayell had not forgotten how to play the game of domination of submission.
His right hands released, only his right hand. It firmly brushed the palm over her arm, past her elbow and bicep and to her shoulder. His left that released her throat and mirrored the grip, both hands now holding her shoulder in place. This also brought him straight on with her, his eyes searching, intently looking over her as if something were lost. They were still cold, still intimidating though perhaps not to her; but they portrayed his meaning. His body pressed against hers, his legs pushing him into the wall behind her. His very aura gave off a cold, bristling energy that was thick enough to almost smell in the night air and he slowly tilted his head to one side. He leaned closer again, his mouth over her neck - then trailed up to her mouth. Dangerously close to taking a kiss from her, he lingered. His breath was hot, musty.
The moment went on, lasted too long and the night was still. All else was quiet or drowned out, there was nothing outside this battle of power and posture. Slowly, very slowly, Grayell pulled away from her, his body peeling from hers. His blood stained her front, her shoulders blue from his hands. His eyes remained cold.
Grayell stood up, but 6 feet form her and never removed his gaze from her eyes. Not for one fleeting moment did he remove his stare. His hands lifted, untied his vest and with a shrug, pulled his vest away, dropping it on the ground. He pointed to his chest. There was a series of tears, rips and bite marks across his pectorals, aged and ingrained in his muscle.
You see this?
This is the remnants of what you did to me. Four times have I been hunted. Four times have I been challenged. It is not the total, it is the four times that the Garou who sought my head did so out of want for you. Four times, have I been the cause of their ire. Four times have I been told that they cannot have you whilst I live. Four times have I been damn near killed because of you and I.
A huff of short air bursts from his nose like a bull snorting, showing his discontent.
Four times I have defended myself because it was that or I died. And four times, four cursed times, have I killed one of your brethren only to find myself thinking of you. Four times have I found myself proud of my kill, ecstatic that they thought you were mine. Four times Liseth, have I felt like I killed for us. Four times, all four times I have been wrong. Stupid. A dreamer.
It took you but one time to wound me far graver than any of those 4. Wound me in a manner far worse than any of the countless Garou I have slain.
You have no right to ask anything of me. You have no damned right to think of me, to whisper my damn name. I would kill any man that bore me such physical pain but you - no. You tore me in half and left me a heap. You spoke such pretty words, such sweet lies that I thought you and I were kismet. I thought we were bonded, a true pair. You cast me aside like a stray dog Liseth and for that, I cannot forgive you.
Grayell leans down and retrieves his vest, begins to slip it on. His eyes now wander to the ground, his stare is released.
Don't come back. I lost you many moons ago and I'd rather cope with that pain than the pain you bring me now. Don't come back. You're not the woman I loved. The woman who I thought had loved me.
Grayell pulls a length of loose cord from his pocket and cups his hair in his hands, tying it behind his head. Something he has not done in a long time. He folds, ties and yanks it tight hard.
Do not come back. I've wished it too many times though I know it's futile. Be gone.
As for him.... leave it be. You cannot take him. He'll kill you before you try.
She stood still, looking at the ground, hair covering her eyes.
Tell yourself what you want, Grayell. I won't stop you. She wiped her mouth with her fist.
I will kill him. And I will come back for you. I did love you. Just not enough to give up the chance. And now that I took that chance I'm coming back. I thought I could make it up to you, offer you the same power as me, but I guess not. She cracked her neck and climbed on top on a mausoleum. She shifted, becoming a fox.
I will be back, Grayell. Maybe you'll have changed your mind by then. Goodbye.
And she left.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Grayell watched her leave, then turned to find the way out. He took 3 steps before his sword was dragging beside him. Another 6 and he fell to his knees. His hands tore at the dirt, tears welling in his eyes. There was no noise. He rocked, forward and back and then shoved his hands to his hips, sitting on his haunches. He looked to the moon and drew a deep breath, then another. Grayell was a silent wreck in the moonlight and the last of his composure had been drained in the fight. He was hurt and hurt badly.
He clambered to his feet and staggered home. A spew of blood and two teeth were left at the gate, the remnants drizzled down his chin and chest.