[In that-- if nothing else-- she succeeds: the staff catches him just at the base of his lowest rib, beneath the crossguard of his blade, stopping him mid-stride for the sake of buckling in pain. Stupid of him to let hunger and overconfidence rule his attentions again, but as long as he's waited to make right their last encounter, restraint is barely within the realm of possibilities.
Still, he's lived long enough to know what that ache can be if he only utilizes it properly.
Breath floods back into his lungs as he again refocuses his attention. Stands tall, shoulders hunched aggressively forward, all posture and bite when he rushes to meet that flaring blade held fast in her grip. It's meant to be blocked. It's so dead-center there's no mistaking it, and the force bearing down in that strike should be staggering - as hateful and bitter as he is, beneath scarred wounds.]
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Still, he's lived long enough to know what that ache can be if he only utilizes it properly.
Breath floods back into his lungs as he again refocuses his attention. Stands tall, shoulders hunched aggressively forward, all posture and bite when he rushes to meet that flaring blade held fast in her grip. It's meant to be blocked. It's so dead-center there's no mistaking it, and the force bearing down in that strike should be staggering - as hateful and bitter as he is, beneath scarred wounds.]
I do.