The Rapture: Eric vs. Jessie/Jessica

[Lord Anglekos]

She moved, she blurred. Eric was close to her form, but not close enough to be caught within the spinning trap she'd laid out for him this time. With his rage had come a sense of things that were and were to be; he was focused upon killing his opponent now, rather than lounging comfortably in the notion that even if either of them were slain by the other they would simply be resurrected by the monks overseeing the entire event. With his rage came a sharpness that had not been there before. He was far from blind with his emotions toiling like burning ants through his veins; everything in his vision seemed sharper and clearer than before, as if he'd been seeing the world through a foggy pair of glasses beforehand.

He knew the reasons for his fury were simple, and that they were ridiculous. To be angered upon simple coincidence and coinciding of fate was a feat more appropriate to a rampaging barbarian, or even more so to a woman suffering from her monthly flow and unable to think straight. He was neither, and yet he couldn't help the boiling, liquid anger that flowed through him like lava. It seemed to him that she had deliberately dressed and acted like his former comrade in order to taunt him forth, or the monks had placed her so for the same reasons. In either case it had succeeded, and here he was, running forward and propelling his body through that anger, wanting to kill a woman he had just met. Hadn't he just told himself the other day that he would not be subject to senseless killing and violence, would not be the pawn of those wishing to play him?

A twisting thrust from the woman before him stopped him from thinking further, those thoughts that were lost amongst the storm of his mind. His right arm snapped out automatically, and the prevalida dagger he held collided with that enigmatic violet steel as he deflected her polearm to the side with ease. A moment's confusion entered that storm as he realized how obvious the attack had been; did she underestimate him and his abilities still? No, there it was, the real attack; the staff blurred once more as she stepped forward to greet his charge and suddenly the butt end of the weapon was thrust at his armored chest.

Too fast! He barely had time to see the blow before it came. It was all he could do to momentarily brace his feet in the sand, letting the grainy particles flow in between his toes, before the wooden weapon collided and he had the breath knocked out of him. His iron breastplate served it's purpose, however, and he felt a moment's pride at the fact that the same armor must have protected his father from similar blows. The blunt attacked knocked him backwards, true, and the inertia combined with the incline of the slope on the beach sent him sprawling until he finally came to his feet by the sea. However, he stood with no hesitation and his breathing was fine; the blow had knocked him backwards but had failed to truly injure him. He'd rolled about ten feet or so, he estimated, and with an angered eye he re-evaluated his opponent quickly.

He'd been wrong on his first impression; she had magic, true, but like he she did not rely upon it completely; she had melee skills of her own, skills that she'd practiced and survived with from the way she held the naginata. This would be more difficult than he'd thought; he may even be defeated by her if he didn't start using his own magic. Gritting his teeth at the thought, the faint traces of his magic still crackling faintly around his arms, he stood up straight with his feet engulfed in the surf, cold water caressing the flesh of them. He watched his opponent with that same cold expression not gone from his face, his hand still on the hilt of his sword and the other still clutching his dagger.

"What is your name?" He suddenly asked, and inside he felt a jolt of surprise. Why was he asking this? The words just seemed to come out of his mouth, as if they were directed by someone else. "It doesn't seem right to me to be trying to kill a woman who's name I do not even know, despite whatever cruelty she may give."

[The Forgotten]

A single chord carried from the clash of the two warriors to the crashing waves; one note that resonated deep within the soul of the pink-haired murderer. Never before had such a disastrous melody been played out so perfectly. The crash of wood against iron; one man’s worthless attempt to live becoming mutilated under the determination of another to end his feeble existence.

First came the shadow of a smile, then the ghost of a smirk. Jessica’s countenance was cold even before her lips split with a deep icy laugh. First blood belonged to her, but now the first true strike of the battle was hers as well. The solid crack of her naginata connecting with the fool's chest plate was immensely satisfying in ways she could not even begin to imagine. Much like arousing herself from a deep slumber, foggy memories were clearing at last. The thrill of battle, the rush of adrenaline – these were the things she lived for. Not the babbling of a fool on his deathbed.

“What is my name?” She spit on the sand and shook a few granules from her hair before settling back into the same position that launched her first attack. “I am the Warrior Jessica. Torn from my tormentors in hell to become a plaything of these damnable monks and their games one last time.” She would say no more. The vermin standing so calmly there deserved less than the dignity he would receive through dying by her hands. Far less.

The writhing mass of violet Aether spread along the length of the staff, dissolving the naginata blade and replacing it with a single long, slender spike on either end. She wouldn’t make the mistake of simply bashing his armor this time. Rose-colored eyes flitted about, never quite lingering on any one part of his exposed anatomy for too long. Shoulders, thighs, and joints received multiple glances, but nothing to truly telegraph her intentions. He would bleed, then he would plead for a death that would not come. The Warrior's macabre mind longed for the pleasure of torment, and she would see him scream before giving him a merciful end to his agony.

[Lord Anglekos]

Disdain. She reeked it as she stood above him on the incline, shining with violet light like some bloodthirsty goddess. Crimson orbs flickered over the points in his body that were exposed from the beach wind, flapping his black tee over his form even as he shifted his stance, pulling forth once more the steel blade at his side. He watched her spit upon the ground with cold eyes of his own, shining with eloquent rage, as she gave her name out to him with a voice echoing the disdain that she brought with her grace. Her own stance shifted even as he moved, and her magic shifted to bring blades to both ends of the wooden staff she held in her hands.

"Jessica." He said her name without emotion, holding a blade in each hand as he slowly advanced upon her, step by precious step into the hot sand. His eyes remained locked upon hers, staring with simultaneous rage and resolution at the task ahead. His other hand spun the prevalida dagger around his fingers until he held it in a reverse grip at his side, stopping his slow advance not seven feet away from the warrioress. Even from that distance, he could feel her magic tingling along his skin. "I see. I apologize, then, for the....inconvenience I seem to have caused." Drawing the steel long sword up, he held it pointed to the sky against his chest and pressed his forehead against the cold steel.

"Blade..." He murmured quietly, closing his eyes for a split second. "...be true this day." They reopened with a snap, and the blade dropped down as he began his slow advance upon his opponent once more, his eyes beginning to dully glow even in the light of the sun. No more words came from him, none of strength or of confidence. He knew; only the weak said such strong words.

[The Forgotten]

One moment. A split second of time passed where every fiber of Jessica’s body longed to destroy the man who dared to stand before her like this. Muscles snapped like whips, sending the pink-haired woman’s body lurching toward the adventurer the instant he closed his eyes. The honed tip of her magical spear stopped inches from his left shoulder, confounding her own mind as to why she would not- could not kill him.

Then something changed, something very slight yet exceptionally important. It was not the Aether evaporating from the ends of the staff, though that was notable. It wasn’t even the look of shock on her face, though it was closely related. To understand, you would have to follow the line from her quivering mouth up to her small nose, then farther still until you reached her eyes: longing hazel on one side, bloodthirsty rose on the other. Her left arm twitched, then moved, very slowly and incredulously pulling the staff back to her side.

Why? Why are you stopping yourself? This is what you want to do! Jessica screamed in her mind, forcing her left arm to halt the stave’s retreat.

No. It’s… not right. A soft voice whispered in her mind, filled with a deep sorrow for some reason.

A small speck on the horizon now grew into a wall of pitch towering in the sky, moving toward the beach despite the ever-increasing wind blowing against it. What little wildlife had stayed to silently watch the duel between mortal enemies and strangers now crept into hiding. A small flock of songbirds erupted from the forest canopy behind the Fallen Warrior, twittering madly about something incomprehensible before vanishing into the darkening sky. It was then that she realized something: her opponent was advancing closer.

Her staff flew back up into position, but there was no cloud of magic to shape it into a lethal weapon. No matter how she pleaded with her magic, it simply wouldn’t answer. For the first time, both since her unwanted resurrection and the life she lived before that, Jessica was utterly terrified. Her magic had abandoned her. But she wouldn’t lose to such a simpleton. Even without magic, she was formidable. Perhaps Jessie’s form would be more fitting now that magic was no longer an option…

[Lord Anglekos]

She had caught him off guard; before he could move to block the violet spear it was at his shoulder, inches away from piercing his flesh and rendering his bone. The very air held still as the two combatants froze with it; Eric in shock, his opponent in...well, he didn't know. Her hair drifted over her visage as the point of the weapon trembled quietly, her arm shaking with it. The grip upon his sword did not loosen; rather, it became tighter, sweat dripping from his palms down the length of it's leathery handle, into the small strands of hair decorating it. His muscles ached with the need to attack, his every instinct telling him to take advantage of the woman's momentary breakdown. But yet, he fought them, his eyes examining his opponent's as the breeze caught her hair once more and revealed her face. What he saw there caught his breath in his throat.

One eye remained the disdainful, hungry crimson that had sparked his own rage, the orbs that had cast down upon him with such vain fury. But it was not this eye that caught his attention; no, it was the other, a deep hazel so beautiful and compassionate that had it not been for circumstances, he may have lost himself in them. As it was, his own glowing eyes remained fixed upon hers, trapped there even as she retreated, ever advancing to the ominous forest at her back. Step by step, he followed her, ignoring the swift darkening of the sky around them as he held his blade at his side, feeling the wind dance around him and shivering momentarily.

Another blur of movement, and she had her stave up into another position, an aggressive pose that bespoke practice and execution behind it. Her bloodthirsty determination remained upon her face, and her sneer was still apparent, but no longer did the strange magic she had wielded appear upon the wooden weapon. It did not seem as if she wouldn't wield it, at least to Eric's speculating and cruel gaze. No, it seemed, rather, that she couldn't.

"What do you think you are doing, Jessica?" Eric spoke once more with a hint of irritation in his voice, easily carrying to the other warrior's ears despite the increase in the howling wind. Sand shifted into the air between them as the sky above them grew darker yet, the wildlife around them scurrying to their homes and hiding places. He ignored a crab crawling over his foot, waiting until it passed before taking a step forward, bringing the point of his weapon to bear before pushing off the ball of his foot, dashing forward through the curtain of sand. His arm cocked back, his hold upon the hilt tightening, and he drove the sword straight forward towards his opponent's midsection, the edges of the blade parallel to the ground.