Pinned
Strange...the same attack as before. You are slipping, Cloud.
Somewhere behind us came the sound of a wire finally snapping, bringing with it no doubt the death of more than a few lights and a horrendous crash. With a noise like that, it probably took out a good portion of what remained of the stage. But assessing the damage is the least of my concerns when the blond is skewered at the end of seven feet of steel.
I commend him for maintaining eye contact this long.
With the barest twist of the masamune, loosening his death-grip upon his monstrous blade proves much simpler than I had imagined, though the distraction of pain usually does aid in such things. A well aimed kick sends the thing skittering across the remains of the stage to fall off the edge.
Withdrawing my blade brings the sweet crimson of blood, shining beautifully across the steel. I cannot help but lean forward, closer to the source as I discard the sword, arms placed strategically to discourage thoughts of escape.
The urge to utter my disappointment in his performance is strong, but the look in his eye speaks clearly. He is distracted by something. Something that is making it difficult to extract his full potential as an opponent.
Perhaps joining that man...Xenahort, truly is one of the simplest ways to bring back the passionate fighter I remember. But for now, determining what it is that has weakened the boy is a higher priority.
Somewhere behind us came the sound of a wire finally snapping, bringing with it no doubt the death of more than a few lights and a horrendous crash. With a noise like that, it probably took out a good portion of what remained of the stage. But assessing the damage is the least of my concerns when the blond is skewered at the end of seven feet of steel.
I commend him for maintaining eye contact this long.
With the barest twist of the masamune, loosening his death-grip upon his monstrous blade proves much simpler than I had imagined, though the distraction of pain usually does aid in such things. A well aimed kick sends the thing skittering across the remains of the stage to fall off the edge.
Withdrawing my blade brings the sweet crimson of blood, shining beautifully across the steel. I cannot help but lean forward, closer to the source as I discard the sword, arms placed strategically to discourage thoughts of escape.
The urge to utter my disappointment in his performance is strong, but the look in his eye speaks clearly. He is distracted by something. Something that is making it difficult to extract his full potential as an opponent.
Perhaps joining that man...Xenahort, truly is one of the simplest ways to bring back the passionate fighter I remember. But for now, determining what it is that has weakened the boy is a higher priority.