His lips shifted subtly, but he gave no verbal response to her declaration. It was good enough. Tobias grasped the hilt of his blade tightly in hand and eyed Philomel silently. She roared defiance to the heavens, her body swayed with anger, and Tobias' smirk slipped into a broad smile.
At last, he would face a foe worthy of the title. The man who had began the Magus Cup as a timid trickster had evolved into this beast, eager to slake his thirst for violence with blood. He caught himself and stifled a tremble of anticipation. His tongue flicked dangerously across his teeth. As she jolted forward, he hefted his sword.
The flat of the weapon greeted her powerful hoof. He pressed his palm to Blackheart and felt it's malicious beat as it shivered from the impact. Tobias spat on the ground as he slid backward from the utter strength of her strike and his boots dug into the white hot sands. Though she had proven her point, Tobias did not waver in his tenacity. Her strike had drawn a gleeful laugh from him- a masochistic and maniacal sort of laugh.
Her bastardly blade swept for his neck and Tobias tilted his body backward. The Dehlar blade shot upward, punched into the motion by the hand that had previously been reinforcing his block. The resulting collision gave an earth-shattering shriek. Tobias stared at he woman above their interlaced blades in the way a lover might suggestively stare at his mate.
He winked at her.