Post by Aegle Vitus on Jul 16, 2016 2:10:52 GMT
Jet, surprisingly, was wrong on both accounts; It wasn't her suit which let Aegle persevere, and her body was certainly not the more durable between them. Not that anyone could tell from watching the way she fought. Even as sparks of pain seared across her chest as he struck her, like kisses from a rattlesnake, Aegle never broke form. Her strike, precise as a clock and as implacable as continental drift, never faltered even as the fresh blossoms of blood stained the ruined hoodie she wore. And when her feint caught him, when Jet faded to the side in expectation of her follow up jab, she knew she had won. At once, all the pain that still radiated through her, despite her not reacting to it, and all the weariness and soreness, clinging to her tight and familiar as a well worn shoe, burst into exultation. She wooped, sharply and shrilly and explosively loud, loud enough that her voice could be heard even over the thunderous cacophony of the Oupis. Her voice rose and rose into a keening shriek, a victorious outcry, as her haymaker made contact and carried with it the combined weight and momentum of her charge leading up to it.
There was a sharp, mechanical, wheezing cry followed by deafening silence, as Aegle came to a complete stop at the furthest reach of her strike. Her heart hammered in her ears to drown out the distant cheering of the crowd, while her deep and eager breathing muted the quiet hum the Oupis made while immobile. She hung like that for a moment, frozen at the completion of her winning strike, conscious of nothing but the blow she had just landed. The glow continued to broil off of her skin, an effervescent sheen of orange light that poured off of her and out of her ruined clothes in great liquid pulses. Aegle could taste her victory, and she held onto that moment with all her might. She held it tight and fast in her racing heart, and cherished it as her final reward for a fight well fought.
Then, all at once, the glow that surrounded Aegle vanished. Her breathing, deep and healthy only a moment before, became shallow and jagged. She let out a quiet, pained sound, then lowered her arm to delicately hold her wounded side. She sagged in the riggings of the Oupis, slumping her shoulders defensively as her knees buckled minutely inward. The pain was present on every inch of her body, from the crown of her head all the way to the soles of her feet. Sore muscles complained quietly beneath the thunderous outcry of deep cuts and the stinging shrieks of fractured bone. Aegle wondered distantly just how badly hurt she was, as she swallowed another soft sound and carefully extracted her hands from their armoured gauntlets. Her right hand came free, covered in a sheen of halfdried blood, which Aegle smeared across the rigging of the Oupis as she extricated herself from its harnessing.
Aegle took a couple of steps out of the Oupis, which stood motionless and silent now that it was uninhabited, before she sank carefully to her knees on the cold and gritty concrete in the Arena's center. They hadn't even left the middle; Their whole match had started and ended in the very center of the stadium. Aegle thought that was funny, but her laugh came out as a quiet gasp, as her side reminded her that one of her ribs was probably broken. Cringing a little, Aegle dared to lift her head and looked at where Jet had collapsed, and saw the smile still stretched across her face. She smiled too, even though doing so felt as though her face were being cut by his blade all over again.
"You put up a really good fight." She told him, admiration plain in her quiet and strained voice.
Then Aegle closed her eyes and listened to the cheering crowd, and wondered if her parents had been watching the match as well. Then she wondered if Jet's parents had been watching too, and she hoped they were proud of him.
"Thanks for trying your best."
There was a sharp, mechanical, wheezing cry followed by deafening silence, as Aegle came to a complete stop at the furthest reach of her strike. Her heart hammered in her ears to drown out the distant cheering of the crowd, while her deep and eager breathing muted the quiet hum the Oupis made while immobile. She hung like that for a moment, frozen at the completion of her winning strike, conscious of nothing but the blow she had just landed. The glow continued to broil off of her skin, an effervescent sheen of orange light that poured off of her and out of her ruined clothes in great liquid pulses. Aegle could taste her victory, and she held onto that moment with all her might. She held it tight and fast in her racing heart, and cherished it as her final reward for a fight well fought.
Then, all at once, the glow that surrounded Aegle vanished. Her breathing, deep and healthy only a moment before, became shallow and jagged. She let out a quiet, pained sound, then lowered her arm to delicately hold her wounded side. She sagged in the riggings of the Oupis, slumping her shoulders defensively as her knees buckled minutely inward. The pain was present on every inch of her body, from the crown of her head all the way to the soles of her feet. Sore muscles complained quietly beneath the thunderous outcry of deep cuts and the stinging shrieks of fractured bone. Aegle wondered distantly just how badly hurt she was, as she swallowed another soft sound and carefully extracted her hands from their armoured gauntlets. Her right hand came free, covered in a sheen of halfdried blood, which Aegle smeared across the rigging of the Oupis as she extricated herself from its harnessing.
Aegle took a couple of steps out of the Oupis, which stood motionless and silent now that it was uninhabited, before she sank carefully to her knees on the cold and gritty concrete in the Arena's center. They hadn't even left the middle; Their whole match had started and ended in the very center of the stadium. Aegle thought that was funny, but her laugh came out as a quiet gasp, as her side reminded her that one of her ribs was probably broken. Cringing a little, Aegle dared to lift her head and looked at where Jet had collapsed, and saw the smile still stretched across her face. She smiled too, even though doing so felt as though her face were being cut by his blade all over again.
"You put up a really good fight." She told him, admiration plain in her quiet and strained voice.
Then Aegle closed her eyes and listened to the cheering crowd, and wondered if her parents had been watching the match as well. Then she wondered if Jet's parents had been watching too, and she hoped they were proud of him.
"Thanks for trying your best."