[Her mouth tightens, but she does as she's told, stabilizing her weight, making it harder for her to be knocked down-- and good that she did, for in the next moment he's on her.
It's a series of strikes and frantic defense, Rosalind's sword sweeping up desperately, only barely parrying him again and again. It ends suddenly, a short stab right to her shoulder, and she hisses sharply, more shocked than pained. And then up again, her sword flashing, but it's not as if the rest of the bout goes much better. Again she defends, and again he strikes, until there's just one moment where her mind works too fast and her body not fast enough. He strikes and she skids back, and suddenly she's sprawled on the floor.
She's breathing hard, sweat shining on her skin: she'd at least lasted a few minutes, which is more than she could at the start of this lessons.]
no subject
It's a series of strikes and frantic defense, Rosalind's sword sweeping up desperately, only barely parrying him again and again. It ends suddenly, a short stab right to her shoulder, and she hisses sharply, more shocked than pained. And then up again, her sword flashing, but
it's not as if the rest of the bout goes much better. Again she defends, and again he strikes, until there's just one moment where her mind works too fast and her body not fast enough. He strikes and she skids back, and suddenly she's sprawled on the floor.
She's breathing hard, sweat shining on her skin: she'd at least lasted a few minutes, which is more than she could at the start of this lessons.]