"Arthur Inkwell here. I've no earthly idea how this thing is supposed to work, but leave me a message if you're so inclined. I'll retrieve it at some point or another!"
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
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.
[ 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.
[ 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.
[ 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. ]
almost too late, she jerks the kanabo up for the sword's edge to skate against—it deflects him from her shoulder, but only in the abstract, because rather than deflect outward, the oni turns the bat so that it pulls his blade in towards her body, towards her chest— ]
[ Gods above, this absolutely insane creature. Even if he tries his best to minimize the damage, she comes right in to try and make it worse instead.
Well, with her tumbling back onto the pool table, he's not going to waste this chance. He steps back and... sprints for his book again, ducking behind another pool table for cover. ]
[ hey, remember how she shattered, like, half the the bottles in this place? you know what is conductive? all the booze pooling, puddling on the floor. ]
His spell tome is right there but of course he can't get to it before he comes into contact with one of those puddles. His whole body convulses again as electricity surges through him, and he drops hard to his knees, his sword dissipating in a burst of green flecks of light. ]
I am getting exceedingly tired of playing this game!
[ His fingers finally close around the spine of his tome, and with it in hand, he slams his other palm on the ground. A dome of translucent, shimmering light, like the surface of a soap bubble by way of stained glass, pops up around him. The radius is wide, and she'll find herself just on the outside of it. Sacred Soil. A barrier she cannot pass. ]
I would thank you not to think of me as some barbarian.
[ Still just as sassy as ever, it seems.
He hefts the vial, and neatly lobs it into the air. In the same moment, a set of circular glyphs unfold from the pages of his tome, casting the room in harsh orange light. The magic whirrs, hums, and motes of blue fire spring forth from each circle, four in all. They arc up to converge on the vial. In another burst of light and magic and arcane script, the little bottle and its contents are immolated in a ball of flame.
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Then he's running, full tilt, over the tabletops to get to his book. ]
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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 ]
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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. ]
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the book? forgotten. fuck the book.
nudges him with her toe when she's close enough. ]
Up you get.
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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. ]
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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?
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[ 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. ]
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hunches over his knee, body twitching.
grabs his leg.
tzzt— ]
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wheezing. ]
She ever tell you you look good like this?
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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.
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[ eyes on that blade. seems familiar. she must have seen it before... ]
That metal?
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[ It's aether. Though it is very solid and real, and cuts as surely as steel would, it isn't conductive. Small mercies. ]
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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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almost too late, she jerks the kanabo up for the sword's edge to skate against—it deflects him from her shoulder, but only in the abstract, because rather than deflect outward, the oni turns the bat so that it pulls his blade in towards her body, towards her chest— ]
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Whoops, haha! Close one!
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Well, with her tumbling back onto the pool table, he's not going to waste this chance. He steps back and... sprints for his book again, ducking behind another pool table for cover. ]
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[ hey, remember how she shattered, like, half the the bottles in this place? you know what is conductive? all the booze pooling, puddling on the floor. ]
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His spell tome is right there but of course he can't get to it before he comes into contact with one of those puddles. His whole body convulses again as electricity surges through him, and he drops hard to his knees, his sword dissipating in a burst of green flecks of light. ]
I am getting exceedingly tired of playing this game!
[ His fingers finally close around the spine of his tome, and with it in hand, he slams his other palm on the ground. A dome of translucent, shimmering light, like the surface of a soap bubble by way of stained glass, pops up around him. The radius is wide, and she'll find herself just on the outside of it. Sacred Soil. A barrier she cannot pass. ]
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is it a setback? sure. but she has the goddamn time. hefts her kanabo back and lets swing. fore! ]
Come on! No one ever gives me a fair shake!
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Arthur shakily gets to his feet. In one hand, his tome. In the other, the vial of Sprezzatura's blood. Does she have the goddamn time? ]
You and I both know that fairness was never a part of the equation.
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is she actually smiling bigger now...? ]
Gonna break it?
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[ Still just as sassy as ever, it seems.
He hefts the vial, and neatly lobs it into the air. In the same moment, a set of circular glyphs unfold from the pages of his tome, casting the room in harsh orange light. The magic whirrs, hums, and motes of blue fire spring forth from each circle, four in all. They arc up to converge on the vial. In another burst of light and magic and arcane script, the little bottle and its contents are immolated in a ball of flame.
Fuck you, Svetka. ]
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