Swordplay (Bastille)

[Bastille Amtrum]

Bastille has watched with little to no emotion. Not even moved by his display. However as soon as specks of his neck flew away she cringed.

“gross”

She muttered under her breathe going for the third time. She jumped back this time as he began. His quote about the dance made her smile a most peaceful smile. She then opened her eyes as a gust of wind seemingly blew from behind her. Of course it was her timing, her eyes opened just as the powerful gust came behind her giving off the affect she was the source of the wind. She took a deep breathe. Being a freshmen and this he first challenging fight since she came here she felt her limits coming closer. Her body was shaking so badly it was physically crying for her to stop. But she knew her limits, and she also knew that the body was always stronger then it appeared.

“The last waltz, I would be honored”

She said dashing forward and going but she hit ice….damn ice. She could feel it on her skin and her heightened senses with movement only mad the ice more difficult. She knew the ice would through him off more. She smirked pulling her sword away and going for the third choice. But she found his foot at her the next second. She skidded far off rolling. She didn’t move for a moment until she was using her sword the next second to stand. Blood began to run down her sword like a constant river and she flicked it off and stood up whipping her bloody mouth. She smirked and went in for another attack immediately.

Might as well go out with a bang, at least she would end up better then her ever so devoted fan boys. She ran up and stopped suddenly in front of him going up and under his arms as if actually taking a dancing stance she pivoted on her foot jamming her hilt hopefully at her full speed into his spine. However using full speed in this state cost her and she passed out just as she finished digging her hilt into the air. She fell down in front of him seemingly still standing and awake but her eyes where still open.

Clouded over they where she still held her sword tightly as he body quaked though didn’t fall over only stand inches from him passed out on her feet.

["Unfettered"]

As With Any Good Dream...
Theme Song: silent, dream, night-sound by High-End

...One must eventually return to reality.

“The last waltz, I would be honored”

...Frau Red Eyes would probably never know how happy that that simple statement could make the German. This was, by far, one of his most favored fights, as with any, already as it stood. ...And speaking of standing. There she was. This time, the struggle was apparent, using her own sword as a cane. The soul, the soul, used as a simple tool! A sign of what was to come---

No. No... once again, one more time, she surprised him. Though her blade was crimson, flicking it off, standing defiantly, wiping the blood from her lips... And charged forth. Whipping towards him with all speed, with a sickening crackling sound, as the German felt his bones creak in a way that they were not supposed to, right below his head. But it was the hard exoskeleton that he wore, the ice that kept him going, allowed him to part his hands from up above, and bring them down to both sides to catch her on both ends, and hold her to him.

Shock.

Shock that her eyes were open, still fighting him, though violent red eyes of hers, though mysterious crimson eyes. But a slow, and already familiar small grin spread across his face... He'd come to expect this of her, as if she were already an old friend.

"Die Ehre... war alle Mine, Frau Rote Augen."

Expecting some amazing climax, the crowd around looked at each other. Almost as if expecting someone to start a slow clap. But whether they did or not wasn't heeded to by the German. With bokken still in his right hand, he passed it onto his left hand behind her, stepping forward to her, to let her head rest on him, as he 'sheathed' his bokken with his left hand on his left hip.

Allowing his left hand to crease back over to her back, his right arm would lower down, floating for a moment as they passed her rear end, and down to behind the knees, bending slightly to pick her up, while still letting her head rest on its side on his left shoulder. Thing was... she never let go of her blade. Just resting across her torn open uniform and shirt. He'd apologize, if he still cared at that latter time, if she'd catch a cold.

And he did with her, as he did with those rare few who could give him something so close to a 'Fighting-Nirvana'. Carry her, slowly, to the Nurse's Office.---But he couldn't deactivate his Qi. Slower, and slower, his body shutting down, he looked at the nurse as he came, nodded briefly, and went to the farthest open bed with a window view, laying down the girl on the soft thing. Letting his hands slowly crease out from beneath her gently, not so much as to not disturb her, but to go easy on his own back.

If she'd wake up... he'd perhaps stay for a moment longer. But with the fight so recently having broken upon her body...

At any rate, if that was not the case, he'd wave off the nurse as he usually did, he looked back. A moment. Five seconds. Maybe eight. And turned around, went through that nurse's office, and didn't look back. Just as always. Headed towards his locker, where he kept his usual supply of minor supplies... It was a passing period.

*SLAM*

Slowly sliding down the locker, back towards it, a cold layer of 'dried' blood smeared off behind him, melting at the room temperature. Bandage in hand, alcohol as well, he broke one of the containers in half, over his head. Letting it freeze on him too. And just wrap the bandages, here, there... About his neck. Making a wad, and shoving it into his underside. Stripping apart his, apply tight bandages and more alcohol, tightly about each and every single wound... which was most places. Standing up slowly, closing his locker, a roll of bandages and half-a bottle of rubbing alcohol still in hand, his Qi still maintaining a decreasing level of temperature, as he headed into the nearest boy's bathroom. Splash the remaining alcohol on the toilet seat, rub off the clean shit, put down the seat, and sit on top of it, he'd lean, with his back and head against the wall, as he continued to apply bandages on himself.

---He'd never get a chance to finish.

...

"Wachsen Sie... wächst stärker, Frau Rote Augen. Ich will Sie wieder kämpfen. Bald." mumbling, as he he lost conciousness, the ice melting away, as the blood began to warm, and gently flow in an unhealthy manner...