[Ripa, unfortunately, isn't quite that nice. Kicking her would be good fun, but he instead looms over her, one double-thumbed hand open wide before he tries to close it around her neck.]
[Ripa ducks his head so that the blow doesn't hit his face or mouth, but rather glides over the ridge of his silver helm. The metal hisses, becomes uncomfortably hot, but he presses the attack, fingers grasping for that fragile neck.
If he has to take this blow and sport burns in order to gain his purchase, so be it.]
[When his hand wraps around her throat, Azula lets out a surprised gasp. But she's not going down. She absolutely refuses. She curls her leg as close to her chest as she can before kicking out, flames blossoming from the sole of her foot.]
[No hesitation in this harsh voice.]
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If he has to take this blow and sport burns in order to gain his purchase, so be it.]
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