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[ the smell of his flesh burning hits the air, and her grin turns completely ghoulish for a moment--true pleasure at causing injury. oh, nothing much could be better after so long held down with her head beneath the water.

he's lunging, but the oni claws her way forward, too, on her hands and feet like a feral creature.

to what end? well, he's closer to the vial than she is. so she lunges for him ]

[ He does not like the sound of her clawing after him, her nails on the floor set his teeth on edge. She'll be on him in no time. ]

Clover!

[ He sent her away, but she should be back by now. She should—

A burst of white-blue light blooms overhead, and in a shower of spectral, snow white feathers Clover shimmers back into being, albeit she looks much different than Sprezzatura or her oni would have seen her before. She extends her hands at Arthur, a diamond-shaped shield of glittering blue light suddenly encasing him. ]

[ thonk! a girl can't predict that. she hits it hard, full force, the momentum of someone who fully intended to land on Arthur and do something awful to him.

instead, she can only scrabble at hard light. ]

Everyone's full of tricks here, aren't they!

[ she doesn't even register that Clover looks different. she might as well be a different fairy altogether. still, the way she handles her is the same: lightning. ]

[ Clover, and yes it is indeed Clover though the oni likely does not care, darts of out the way, zipping closer rather than further away. She gets right in Svetka's face, all bright light and wide, feathery wings.

Arthur glances over his shoulder to see the sight of his faerie getting up close and personal. He nearly calls her name again, but then he realizes what she's doing: she's buying him time. Clover has always been foolishly brave, ever since the moment he met her. This, it seems, is no different.

He scrambles once again to his feet, his wounded side feeling like its on fire. He grits his teeth, does his best to ignore it, and runs for the vial. He practically dives beneath the pool table to get it. ]

[ he can't get that blood.

Svetka's face jerks catlike, inhuman, to one side as he dives—she can see the movement of him just beyond the fairy silhouette, and as her heart leaps like it's taken a shot of adrenaline, she decides this girl's gotta go.

snaps a clawed hand up to clutch the front of Clover's sweet, darling face. forget hunting for the fun of it, forget playing nice. she's going to break this flitting, sparkling, pretty little thing in front of him. ]

[ Clover's hands come up to clutch at the fingers keeping her captive, suddenly much smaller as her seraph form melts away in a shower of light. She is as she always has been, small and butterfly-winged and wreathed in a soft golden glow.

Her little mouth is set in a grim line, shining blue eyes determined under pinched brows. She understands this is her fate. It's okay. As long as Arthur's okay. ]

[ crunch. ]

[ i mean, light can't crunch, it's. light. but you know what i mean to imply is happening here.

and with that summarily.... handled, soulless and without remorse, she turns her eyes to the man himself. will he be able to feel his little companion die? she wants to see him realize it. ]

Give me my blood, boy.

[ Arthur doesn't feel it, no, but he doesn't need to. He snatches up the vial and uses the edge of the pool table to haul himself to his feet just in time to watch Clover burst in Svetka's grip. He flinches, ears twitching back, but his gaze stays steady, watching Svetka for her next move. ]

You already know that I won't.

[ He takes a few cautious steps, careful to keep the pool table between himself and the oni. He's cheating vaguely towards his spell tome. ]

[ where oh where would a wizard turn, defenseless, facing down a big, bad oni? well, they'd want their spellbook, of course!

she breaks that steady eye contact, slides her gaze over to the tome, rests it there, then moves back to Arthur. eyebrow quirk. ]

Then what good are you to me?

[ brings her foot up and plants it on her side of the pool table for a hefty shove. she wants to pin him between this table and the one behind him. ]

[ Ah, well. She understands his goal. It's going to be a mad dash again like it was for the vial, isn't it? Her foot comes up and his expression seems to abruptly say oh no. The table comes sliding his way and he jumps, hopping on top of it before it can smoosh him against the table behind him. Best not to underestimate that leporine agility!

Then he's running, full tilt, over the tabletops to get to his book. ]

[ her laugh is loud, boisterous. seeing him hop the table like that just... yanks it out of her.

lunges, too, but while he's all eyes for the spellbook, she's pulling her kanabo from the air, and the second he makes to dive for it, the oni takes a swing ]

[ Dive for it he does, unknowingly teeing himself up perfectly. Her weapon smashes into his ribcage, driving the wind out of him. Something cracks — potentially several somethings — as he's sent rolling into the nearest wall, coming to rest just under one of those godsawful animal heads.

He groans, the sound petering off into a wet-sounding cough, as he tries to get his legs under him again. He presses a hand to the point of impact, green-white light pulsing from his palm in an attempt to mend the damage, to get him up and fighting again. The magic soothes the worst of it away, allowing him to suck in a breath, at least.

Where is she? Surely she won't just sit there and let him heal himself. ]

[ oh, she's on her way. there's a horrible, heavy thud as she lets the end of the kanabo down on the floor. it drags behind her as she starts the leisurely walk over to him—yeah, he'll patch himself up a bit, but that's just a chance for take two.

the book? forgotten. fuck the book.

nudges him with her toe when she's close enough. ]

Up you get.

[ The noise of that weapon against the floor is going to haunt him for a while to come.

He lets out another cough, tastes the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, and inhales again as his own healing magic courses through is damaged ribcage. Even before her prompting, he manages to get up on his knees, bent over while his free hand supports him. ]

Fine... if that's what you want.

[ He hauls himself upright, eyes flicking to her weapon arm. He's got the vial tucked away somewhere again, and the look on his face makes it clear he doesn't mean to give it to her without a fight. ]

[ isn't he a determined one. she likes a man like that. ]

I'd never ask you for more.

[ again, that ozone smell hits the air, and she breathes deep. Arthur will see the fine arc of a current... now running through that kanabo in her hand. ]

You're not just gonna hold still, are you?

I think asking me to move qualifies as asking for more.

[ Look at that, he's still got some sass left in him.

He doesn't run again, not this time. He may not look it, with the book and the spectacles and the scholarly demeanor, but Arthur knows his way around a close quarters fight. His brother spent many long years of early morning training making sure he does. And, as ever, he has speed on his side.

He steps up suddenly into her space, inside her reach. One hand snaps up to try and catch the front of her shirt and he drives a knee up at her gut in an attempt to wind her, to stun her for even just a moment, to buy himself some distance. ]

[ she never... tries to dodge. every blow, she simply tanks, wearing the same rictus smile like this is all a farce for her. her eyes widen and the corners of her mouth do twitch when he winds her, though—the sound of impact is a dull thud, like a hammer, and it drives the breath from her in a satisfying rattle.

hunches over his knee, body twitching.

grabs his leg.

tzzt— ]

[ Oh fuck off with that. He whole body seizes, twitches around hers, and he jerks his leg to try and shake her off. BUNNY KICK ]

[ boy, where'd you learn to kick like that? her heels squeal on the floor as she staggers back—into the abused pool table. she catches herself on the lip and holds herself up like that, one arm hooked over, the rest of her hanging, ragged, her hair falling free from its ribbon, her lips ever-curved. she braces herself with the electrified kanabo.

wheezing. ]

She ever tell you you look good like this?

[ Arthur is looking far worse for wear that she is, with blood staining his clothes, a bright read line eking from the corner of his mouth, a charred patch of skin that still stings. His hair has come loose from its tie.

He grimaces at her, and with a flex of his fingers, green light coalesces into his hand in the shape of a sword. He falls into a defensive stance. He's not sure if he should bother trying to go for his book anymore... maybe if he can keep her at bay enough. ]

If I've my way, she won't have to see me like this.

Oh, I'll make sure she does.

[ eyes on that blade. seems familiar. she must have seen it before... ]

That metal?

I suppose you'll find out, won't you?

[ It's aether. Though it is very solid and real, and cuts as surely as steel would, it isn't conductive. Small mercies. ]

Haa. Come on, then. Let you go first.

[ There is a split second, a fraction of a heartbeat of hesitation. He doesn't want to hurt her — well, were she not in Sprezzatura's body, he would hurt this wretched oni without a moment's hesitation. He also understands that if he doesn't fight, she will kill him. She will kill him and take this blood and do who knows what kind of terrible things with it.

Alright then. He steps in quick and aims a stab at her shoulder. Someplace he can hopefully cause the least amount of damage, but he will pin her to this pool table with his blade if he can. ]

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