[He wonders of not needing much room is a hint or a threat.]
Fine. Ten minutes.
[At the cottage, he's closer to the forest at the edge of Flavo. Practically on top of it. This gives him time to pull an almost similar preparation to how he initiated battle with Guren the first time:
Get in one of the trees, hidden (he thinks), and wait. Except, unlike Guren, he waits specifically to watch her first rather than attack. He wants to survey how she comes, what she looks like, if differently.
Just because she's a (formerly skimpily clad) woman doesn't mean he's going to take her lightly.]
[ it’s easier for sierra to fly on that kind of time limit than it is for her to walk it, so the first thing damian will notice is a white, strangely non-mutated bat fluttering onto the scene. a few high-pitched calls later, relying on that echolocation, she drops to her feet as a person.
[Oh no, a white bat... cute. Except Damian is familiar with bats, and he's more exasperated than surprised. Cold weather usually keeps most bats hibernating. This one, on top of being white, is out and about.
Definitely someone from town, and there she is, spilling out onto the ground.] Is there a reason for this? [Before he comes down.]
[ oh, that’s damian. she can’t even recall if he’d given her his name before and it slipped her mind, or if she never bothered to ask, but she does remember that fussy little voice. ]
A test, of sorts. You already agreed to the challenge, you know.
I never said I was refusing. I just want to know if there's a good reason for wasting my time.
[It's kind of enough. A test. He comes down from the tree by planting his feet on the trunk and sliding most of the way until he can spring off and land on the ground. It doesn't look like he brought any weapons. At least, there are no swords, or axes, or polestaffs.]
[ sierra does notice he carries no obvious weapons on him, but she’s seen plenty of people in the war she just fought. magic users, of course, but other kinds of warriors too—people with “guns,” and a girl who just swung a book around like a blunt object.
anything is a weapon if you try hard enough. ]
Kisa told me about you. I’m just curious if you’re good enough to keep carting her off into the woods.
[Drat. Sierra is already well prepared for Bats knowing anything can be a weapon.
Gently, his eyes narrow. He's not angry Kisa is talking about him, plenty of people talk about him, but he realizes whatever said couldn't have been good for his dignity. He thinks.]
I gave her a choice, and she accepted. I wouldn't have allowed anything to happen to her. But I don't mind proving what I'm capable of if you're so concerned.
I'm surprised you haven't already turned her into a bloodless husk. Are little girls just not your type?
[ it hurts a little more than it would on any other day, considering what happened in the ice castle—but kisa must not have mentioned to him what happened, which means sierra is safe from that wrath for a little longer yet.
she smiles at him, extending her claws. ]
No. It seems like they’re yours, though.
[ she motions for him to come take the first strike, an invitation that is most definitely a trap. ]
Let’s get on with it.
my cracker jack prize was a bat sticker so ig that's appropriate typing this thread
[Sierra doesn't get a response. Or she does, but it isn't verbal. For a human, for a child, he's fast. For something more than human, the attempt is admirable and can't be sniffed at.
From inside his jacket, he pulls and throws a batarang at her with surprising precision. Hitting her isn't exactly the plan, but distracting her and forcing her to defend for at least a single moment. He's not sure at all of her abilities, though he won't take her lightly. He assumes she will be deadly at close range and long range (if she can turn into a bat).
But he's banking on fairing better at close range. Having more martial arts control, being smaller. So he take off directly at her as soon as the batarang is released. His hand is on something else inside his jacket, but he doesn't pull out whatever it may be.]
[ sierra is impressed with that speed, and how well he conceals his instincts—usually she can sense a fight in someone, but this boy is trained. she didn’t think he wasn’t, based on the way he was hiding in the trees, but he’s a little better than she initially gave him credit for.
she gracefully leaps out of the way of the batarang, jumping over him before he can get that hit in, but there’s a shade of herself left in the space she’d just been standing. a doppelganger. ]
[The stone arrowhead dagger he quickly crafted (and then detailed upon later) on the siren island is what he pulls out of his jacket when he gets to her. She jumps up and over, but he continues with what he had planned anyway, not knowing quite yet which is the trick.
Even looking like a thirteen year old shrimp, it's clear in the precision of his stop and the swipe across off the dagger he's been trained rather extensively. Can he keep up with Sierra? Maybe for a while, but lacking his usual array of gadgets, lacking the long sleuthing of figuring out Sierra's weaknesses, he is still only human.
So the doppelganger gets a horizontal slash of merely stone dagger, but he's quick to tuck himself and roll hastily off to the side out of the way and back up to his face; his biggest concern is leaving his back wide open for her to follow-up. Getting blasted in the front--even punched--will hurt, but...!! His spine is important for survival, listen!!]
[ it’s not like she wants to paralyze him, but she does notice that she couldn’t even if she was aiming to as soon as he straightens up to protect his spine. again, she thinks, he’s good—better than plenty of other humans she’s faced, and she thinks he would do quite well in riou’s army.
the doppelganger disappears as soon as its purpose has been served, but sierra doesn’t follow up immediately. ]
How’s your tolerance for magic? I don’t want to kill you.
[ she asks it playfully, because she’s taking this much less seriously than he is. ]
[Ah shit. His face gives away—not his tolerance, but what he thinks about magic. Hates it. Awful. Magic is the most stupid. But he doesn’t offer her a definite answer to the question. Instead, he tries to give her less of an opportunity.
He rushes forward at her without warning, brandishing the dagger and swiping it cleanly back and forth over and over at her. To which she’ll probably be able to just back up from, but listen. It keeps her busy.]
[ damian is getting his wish, since she backs up from the dagger with every swipe—if this were a real fight, she might just grab it and shock him then heal her hand, but it feels rude to pull a trick like that. she has honor, occasionally. ]
You don’t like openings either, hm?
[ instead of magic, she relies on another ability—damian can probably hear it before he sees it, a swarm of bats suddenly rushing in from the side. they have weight, they cast shadows, by all impressions they seem to be real. ]
[The irony is not lost on Damian. (He hates this.) The moment he hears the start of chittering, he freezes and whips halfway around. He won't be able to duck or run; there's no use trying.
So he brings his arms up again to shield as much of his face and head as he can, ducking his head, hunching his shoulders.] Gah! [Their clawed thumbs and feet scratch, the leathery sweep of the wings smack, but they don't seem to be doing a whole lot more than being a nuisance.
Hurting animals isn't exactly on his list of priorities, but don't think he won't sacrifice a few bats. His free arm starts swinging; the hand with the dagger uses it to try to cut some space--or a bat or two.]
Stop getting your pets to do your dirty work! Fight me!
[ the bats disappear when damian slices at them—although they cry out as if they truly are living creatures that have been stabbed with a dagger, they disperse into shadow as soon as they “die.” they’re nothing more than tactile illusion, for better or worse. ]
But fine.
[ she brought her claws out, but she decides on the same whim she decides everything that she doesn’t need them. instead, she cuts a path straight through the bats as if parting a sea, and decides to meet damian on his own terms—by just throwing a punch at his stomach. ]
[Well, the cry sure feels bad, but if they vanish so easily, he's going to convince himself they're magical and not worth the disapproval.
The claws, though. It's a good thing he was punched, or he would have taken them through the skin more than likely. The bats are enough hindrance; her arm swings out of the opening of their disappearance and socks him squarely in the stomach. Even tightening his muscles, the power behind it is wild.
He flies up and back a few feet, landing breathless and nauseated on the ground nearby with the dagger skidding away out of reach. But if anything, he's persistent, almost too mortally stubborn. He took the blow, and it didn't put him out of commission yet.
Rolling over, he spits a small mouthful of blood into the snow and dirt. Thankfully, not internal; just a sudden, rough bite of his tongue.]
[ the blood is bright on the snow as it seeps in and melts the ice crystals around it, but sierra can’t feel too bad—he’s welcome to tap out whenever he likes, though she imagines he won’t unless she simply knocks him unconscious. ]
You’d go to the death, wouldn’t you?
[ although vampires can’t sweat, metaphorically speaking, sierra has hardly even broken one. her breath is just a bit heavier thanks to summoning the bats and throwing her weight behind a punch, but she’s in much better condition than he is, simply based on their respective stances. ]
[He locks her down with his green eyes as he hoists himself back up to his feet. The bruise might already be starting to form, but there’s a practiced resilience to how perfectly he stands against her for another round.] But you didn’t come to fight me to the death. If you aren’t a husk like Ichinose’s vampires, you’ll already understand killing me will make her hate you for as long as you’re both here. [Regardless, he puts both arms up like he plans to continue.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
#FFFFE0 | after kisa tells her things
rip damian wayne
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Would you be interested in a friendly challenge?
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I don’t need much room.
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Fine. Ten minutes.
[At the cottage, he's closer to the forest at the edge of Flavo. Practically on top of it. This gives him time to pull an almost similar preparation to how he initiated battle with Guren the first time:
Get in one of the trees, hidden (he thinks), and wait. Except, unlike Guren, he waits specifically to watch her first rather than attack. He wants to survey how she comes, what she looks like, if differently.
Just because she's a (formerly skimpily clad) woman doesn't mean he's going to take her lightly.]
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the trees, then? ]
Nice trick.
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Definitely someone from town, and there she is, spilling out onto the ground.] Is there a reason for this? [Before he comes down.]
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A test, of sorts. You already agreed to the challenge, you know.
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[It's kind of enough. A test. He comes down from the tree by planting his feet on the trunk and sliding most of the way until he can spring off and land on the ground. It doesn't look like he brought any weapons. At least, there are no swords, or axes, or polestaffs.]
Why do you have a sudden interest in testing me?
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[ sierra does notice he carries no obvious weapons on him, but she’s seen plenty of people in the war she just fought. magic users, of course, but other kinds of warriors too—people with “guns,” and a girl who just swung a book around like a blunt object.
anything is a weapon if you try hard enough. ]
Kisa told me about you. I’m just curious if you’re good enough to keep carting her off into the woods.
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Gently, his eyes narrow. He's not angry Kisa is talking about him, plenty of people talk about him, but he realizes whatever said couldn't have been good for his dignity. He thinks.]
I gave her a choice, and she accepted. I wouldn't have allowed anything to happen to her. But I don't mind proving what I'm capable of if you're so concerned.
I'm surprised you haven't already turned her into a bloodless husk. Are little girls just not your type?
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she smiles at him, extending her claws. ]
No. It seems like they’re yours, though.
[ she motions for him to come take the first strike, an invitation that is most definitely a trap. ]
Let’s get on with it.
my cracker jack prize was a bat sticker so ig that's appropriate typing this thread
From inside his jacket, he pulls and throws a batarang at her with surprising precision. Hitting her isn't exactly the plan, but distracting her and forcing her to defend for at least a single moment. He's not sure at all of her abilities, though he won't take her lightly. He assumes she will be deadly at close range and long range (if she can turn into a bat).
But he's banking on fairing better at close range. Having more martial arts control, being smaller. So he take off directly at her as soon as the batarang is released. His hand is on something else inside his jacket, but he doesn't pull out whatever it may be.]
bats for everyone!
she gracefully leaps out of the way of the batarang, jumping over him before he can get that hit in, but there’s a shade of herself left in the space she’d just been standing. a doppelganger. ]
Goodness, you’re speedy.
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Even looking like a thirteen year old shrimp, it's clear in the precision of his stop and the swipe across off the dagger he's been trained rather extensively. Can he keep up with Sierra? Maybe for a while, but lacking his usual array of gadgets, lacking the long sleuthing of figuring out Sierra's weaknesses, he is still only human.
So the doppelganger gets a horizontal slash of merely stone dagger, but he's quick to tuck himself and roll hastily off to the side out of the way and back up to his face; his biggest concern is leaving his back wide open for her to follow-up. Getting blasted in the front--even punched--will hurt, but...!! His spine is important for survival, listen!!]
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the doppelganger disappears as soon as its purpose has been served, but sierra doesn’t follow up immediately. ]
How’s your tolerance for magic? I don’t want to kill you.
[ she asks it playfully, because she’s taking this much less seriously than he is. ]
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[Ah shit. His face gives away—not his tolerance, but what he thinks about magic. Hates it. Awful. Magic is the most stupid. But he doesn’t offer her a definite answer to the question. Instead, he tries to give her less of an opportunity.
He rushes forward at her without warning, brandishing the dagger and swiping it cleanly back and forth over and over at her. To which she’ll probably be able to just back up from, but listen. It keeps her busy.]
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[ damian is getting his wish, since she backs up from the dagger with every swipe—if this were a real fight, she might just grab it and shock him then heal her hand, but it feels rude to pull a trick like that. she has honor, occasionally. ]
You don’t like openings either, hm?
[ instead of magic, she relies on another ability—damian can probably hear it before he sees it, a swarm of bats suddenly rushing in from the side. they have weight, they cast shadows, by all impressions they seem to be real. ]
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So he brings his arms up again to shield as much of his face and head as he can, ducking his head, hunching his shoulders.] Gah! [Their clawed thumbs and feet scratch, the leathery sweep of the wings smack, but they don't seem to be doing a whole lot more than being a nuisance.
Hurting animals isn't exactly on his list of priorities, but don't think he won't sacrifice a few bats. His free arm starts swinging; the hand with the dagger uses it to try to cut some space--or a bat or two.]
Stop getting your pets to do your dirty work! Fight me!
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[ the bats disappear when damian slices at them—although they cry out as if they truly are living creatures that have been stabbed with a dagger, they disperse into shadow as soon as they “die.” they’re nothing more than tactile illusion, for better or worse. ]
But fine.
[ she brought her claws out, but she decides on the same whim she decides everything that she doesn’t need them. instead, she cuts a path straight through the bats as if parting a sea, and decides to meet damian on his own terms—by just throwing a punch at his stomach. ]
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The claws, though. It's a good thing he was punched, or he would have taken them through the skin more than likely. The bats are enough hindrance; her arm swings out of the opening of their disappearance and socks him squarely in the stomach. Even tightening his muscles, the power behind it is wild.
He flies up and back a few feet, landing breathless and nauseated on the ground nearby with the dagger skidding away out of reach. But if anything, he's persistent, almost too mortally stubborn. He took the blow, and it didn't put him out of commission yet.
Rolling over, he spits a small mouthful of blood into the snow and dirt. Thankfully, not internal; just a sudden, rough bite of his tongue.]
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[ the blood is bright on the snow as it seeps in and melts the ice crystals around it, but sierra can’t feel too bad—he’s welcome to tap out whenever he likes, though she imagines he won’t unless she simply knocks him unconscious. ]
You’d go to the death, wouldn’t you?
[ although vampires can’t sweat, metaphorically speaking, sierra has hardly even broken one. her breath is just a bit heavier thanks to summoning the bats and throwing her weight behind a punch, but she’s in much better condition than he is, simply based on their respective stances. ]
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[He locks her down with his green eyes as he hoists himself back up to his feet. The bruise might already be starting to form, but there’s a practiced resilience to how perfectly he stands against her for another round.] But you didn’t come to fight me to the death. If you aren’t a husk like Ichinose’s vampires, you’ll already understand killing me will make her hate you for as long as you’re both here. [Regardless, he puts both arms up like he plans to continue.]
Make sure you can live with your choice.
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[ she is not going to kill him, though for a moment, a terrible moment, there’s something cold in her eyes like she just might be considering it. ]
I don’t kill humans, and humans can’t kill me. “Death” is a concept for another day, you little bastard.
[ that last part is said with strangely more fondness than it should ever warrant, like she’s pleased with how far he’s taken this. ]
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