~20~ [accidental video] - backdated to shortly after Mami's post
[With a clatter the Forge turns on, static clearing on the view of an alley and a flash of pink hair. Yachiru hits the ground hard, a splatter of blood tracing her path as she is flung across the cobbled alley. It takes her less than a second to regroup, dragging herself back to her feet and wiping at the blood from a deep cut on her forehead which would otherwise run down into her eyes and obscure her vision. Her face is set, angry and her little hands tighten on her sword as she prepares another strike. The battle’s gotten away from her since the beginning, her emotions causing her to bleed out power early on so now she's slipping and losing strength and the pavement doesn’t even tear under her speed anymore, her beaten body showing the exhaustion starting to catch up with her. But she raises her sword regardless and charges.]
[Ah, misdirection. The child’s (is she a child, really? Can she trust anything in Anatole on appearance alone?) attack is another easy dodge. Barring the burn at her shoulder, Bellatrix has gone from infuriated to rather pleased and back again, remaining somewhere between the two as she laughs - wand raised, gripped tight in fingers streaked with red.
Turning with a flourish, a sick smile as she sends an arc of light into the air in front of her - straight for Yachiru’s chest (no, her face - that last little flick at the end guides it) - the very words of the spell a self congratulatory hiss.]
Crucio!
[Yachiru has lost some speed but not her instincts altogether and though she is in a headlong run she is is able to dodge the spell enough for it to miss her face and strike her in the shoulder. The force of it was still enough to make her cry out and tumble, her head striking the ground hard and her body rolling at a painful speed until she hits the wall behind Bellatrix where she then lies still. From this distance, it is difficult to tell if she is still breathing but the dark red puddle spreading on the stones near her head is visible.]
Get up.
[Stepping closer, skirts whipping past her boots - hems singed, still smoking.]
We’re not done yet, dearie.
[Close enough now that a few droplets of blood from the wound in her arm fall into Yachiru’s hair. Again the pull between fury and amusement.]
Crucio.
[Fury wins out in the end - it’s not time to quit until I say it is, you little wretch - harsh laughter as the girl’s unconscious body twitches, rocking against the new wave of pain that she can’t brace for.]
Is that it? Are you done, then? Are you done yapping, little pink beast?
[A sharp kick against Yachiru’s back, followed by her boot returning to lift the child’s chin so that her face is clearer to the viewer. Her eyes are closed and her face is already painted with red, a new line of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth as the Forge records.]
Hmmph. I suppose you are.
[Ah, misdirection. The child’s (is she a child, really? Can she trust anything in Anatole on appearance alone?) attack is another easy dodge. Barring the burn at her shoulder, Bellatrix has gone from infuriated to rather pleased and back again, remaining somewhere between the two as she laughs - wand raised, gripped tight in fingers streaked with red.
Turning with a flourish, a sick smile as she sends an arc of light into the air in front of her - straight for Yachiru’s chest (no, her face - that last little flick at the end guides it) - the very words of the spell a self congratulatory hiss.]
Crucio!
[Yachiru has lost some speed but not her instincts altogether and though she is in a headlong run she is is able to dodge the spell enough for it to miss her face and strike her in the shoulder. The force of it was still enough to make her cry out and tumble, her head striking the ground hard and her body rolling at a painful speed until she hits the wall behind Bellatrix where she then lies still. From this distance, it is difficult to tell if she is still breathing but the dark red puddle spreading on the stones near her head is visible.]
Get up.
[Stepping closer, skirts whipping past her boots - hems singed, still smoking.]
We’re not done yet, dearie.
[Close enough now that a few droplets of blood from the wound in her arm fall into Yachiru’s hair. Again the pull between fury and amusement.]
Crucio.
[Fury wins out in the end - it’s not time to quit until I say it is, you little wretch - harsh laughter as the girl’s unconscious body twitches, rocking against the new wave of pain that she can’t brace for.]
Is that it? Are you done, then? Are you done yapping, little pink beast?
[A sharp kick against Yachiru’s back, followed by her boot returning to lift the child’s chin so that her face is clearer to the viewer. Her eyes are closed and her face is already painted with red, a new line of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth as the Forge records.]
Hmmph. I suppose you are.