10-05-2021, 08:41 AM
As she comes into view, shifting into the familiar pale figure, he notices she is free of the blemishes she had been adorned with last time. A smile curves across Reave’s lips as he draws to a halt, watching her curiously. He had nearly made it to his destination before she had intervened, only thin trees remaining between himself and the meadow beside the lake. He doesn’t exit the sparse forest however, instead sheltering in their trunks and waiting for her to close the distance.
The memories that curl around her are new now, different from the cruel ones of earlier. It is easy for him to see that her heart is not in this. Strange. It’s as though she does not truly wish to fight him.
She would of course. He had made the challenge after all, and she could not let it slide. But in those scant few moments before she attacks, he is forced to once again adjust his plans.
Mazikeen says nothing in response to his whispered words of challenge. Instead she charges, her figure mutating into the familiar form of a harpy eagle. Is it coincidence she had chosen the shape of his companion to come for her?
He doesn’t think so.
Reave has already discarded any thought of sifting through the future to find his answers in this fight. There are too many lines tangled together. Far too many to sort through in the short amount of time he would have. Far too many to try and guess which would be the right one. So he focuses instead on his other talents. He is not fool enough to believe he is any match for her physically - not when she can shift her form on a whim and be both larger and stronger or smaller and faster.
No, if he were going to have any hope of winning this fight, he would have to prove himself cleverer. So the moment she charges, he stretches out the fingers of his first assault. He targets her eyesight of course. It’s tempting to strip Mazikeen of it entirely, but that would be far too easy to adjust to. Instead, with a simple twist, he attempts to set it slightly off kilter. If he is successful, everything she sees would be just a few moments out of sync, and if he is also lucky, she wouldn’t even notice he had done it. The version of Reave she would see would be just a few heartbeats slower than the true Reave, throwing off her aim and giving Reave the leeway he needs to counter her attacks more successfully.
This had of course the unfortunate consequence of giving him little time to prepare for her initial attack though. He had stayed in the trees knowing they would at least provide some protection and force her to slow her momentum, but the bear that is hurdling at him now appears to have plenty of heft behind it anyway.
He doesn’t try to brace himself for the impact. Instead, he throws himself into the fall, head already dropping and knees buckling as the huge beast barrels into him, sending his not insignificant form skidding across leaf litter and thudding into a cluster of small saplings. His bones jar roughly in the impact, breath heaving from his lungs. His armor might offer him some protection, but the force of the blow still leaves bruising results in its wake.
If Reave were not accustomed to pain, he might have been left stunned. Fortunately, pain has been a familiar companion for most of his life, so the moment he is able to suck in a breath, he scrambles quickly to his feet and does his best to shake off his bruised ribs.
His eyes immediately go to where the shapeshifter had skittered off to after her attack, a breathless laugh leaving him the moment he is able to draw enough air to speak. “Pulling your punches Maze?” He grins despite the breathlessness of his words and the taunt in his voice. “I knew we were still friends.”
The memories that curl around her are new now, different from the cruel ones of earlier. It is easy for him to see that her heart is not in this. Strange. It’s as though she does not truly wish to fight him.
She would of course. He had made the challenge after all, and she could not let it slide. But in those scant few moments before she attacks, he is forced to once again adjust his plans.
Mazikeen says nothing in response to his whispered words of challenge. Instead she charges, her figure mutating into the familiar form of a harpy eagle. Is it coincidence she had chosen the shape of his companion to come for her?
He doesn’t think so.
Reave has already discarded any thought of sifting through the future to find his answers in this fight. There are too many lines tangled together. Far too many to sort through in the short amount of time he would have. Far too many to try and guess which would be the right one. So he focuses instead on his other talents. He is not fool enough to believe he is any match for her physically - not when she can shift her form on a whim and be both larger and stronger or smaller and faster.
No, if he were going to have any hope of winning this fight, he would have to prove himself cleverer. So the moment she charges, he stretches out the fingers of his first assault. He targets her eyesight of course. It’s tempting to strip Mazikeen of it entirely, but that would be far too easy to adjust to. Instead, with a simple twist, he attempts to set it slightly off kilter. If he is successful, everything she sees would be just a few moments out of sync, and if he is also lucky, she wouldn’t even notice he had done it. The version of Reave she would see would be just a few heartbeats slower than the true Reave, throwing off her aim and giving Reave the leeway he needs to counter her attacks more successfully.
This had of course the unfortunate consequence of giving him little time to prepare for her initial attack though. He had stayed in the trees knowing they would at least provide some protection and force her to slow her momentum, but the bear that is hurdling at him now appears to have plenty of heft behind it anyway.
He doesn’t try to brace himself for the impact. Instead, he throws himself into the fall, head already dropping and knees buckling as the huge beast barrels into him, sending his not insignificant form skidding across leaf litter and thudding into a cluster of small saplings. His bones jar roughly in the impact, breath heaving from his lungs. His armor might offer him some protection, but the force of the blow still leaves bruising results in its wake.
If Reave were not accustomed to pain, he might have been left stunned. Fortunately, pain has been a familiar companion for most of his life, so the moment he is able to suck in a breath, he scrambles quickly to his feet and does his best to shake off his bruised ribs.
His eyes immediately go to where the shapeshifter had skittered off to after her attack, a breathless laugh leaving him the moment he is able to draw enough air to speak. “Pulling your punches Maze?” He grins despite the breathlessness of his words and the taunt in his voice. “I knew we were still friends.”