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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Feb 25, 2009 23:04:49 GMT -8
Bastille was on the roof. The moon danced on the tiles like emeralds in a cool pond and Bastilles eyes, usually a deep crimson due to a distorted bluish brown color where now almost glowing deep blue. Her feet made a light clacking sound and the wind blew strongly for a cool spring evening. Leaves dusted past her blank face. It was as if she where performing at a Kabuki performance and her face was the mask, hiding something unknown behind it. The tension existed enough for it to be a intense battle scene.
Speaking of Kabuki masks, Bastille held a horned kabuki mask in her hands its teeth painted gold glinted in the moonlight. The wood almost looked porcelain as did her hands that held its fragile frame. She had called Gabriel Seran here to duel with her…let it be her own inside joke what this battle really was for. But she had found out he was a fencer, she didn’t like competition…it was her one passion. The way the sword danced was like an art…shall the blade dance begin?
Clad in a American Revolutionary War British uniform skimmed down to fit her tightly, she let her fingers glide over the masks surface. She then walked closer to the edge of the building and let herself look down. She would wait up here for him her smirk planted on her face. She tossed the mask in the air and then sliced it in half letting the pieces plummet to the earth.
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Feb 25, 2009 23:06:45 GMT -8
Gabriel decided a bit of laxity would be acceptable; of course he had to grab his gear first. He adorned himself into a formal sort of shirt of sorts, the kind of vest with ridges, the whole thing felt a bit too formal he wore it nonetheless. The shirt’s sleeves were decorated with slightly accentuated with different arrays of golden hems strewn about in complex patterns, at the end of each they were held up by an ornate cufflink. His pants were black silk providing for durability and movement, if he were to go head to head against Bastille he wouldn’t be caught in a suit. He had another secret weapon under his sleeves, the armguards he’d been given to rush the Correctional Facility, yes a handy trick in store considering they could block blades.
Gabriel grinned as he approached the school; it gave an eerie calm at night, especially with the moon out in bloom. Its radiant light gave everything a smooth serenity which was almost sure to be broken or be put to shame by the dance of two equally skilled swordsmen, or so he’d heard from rumors. Looking up toward the rooftop he caught a glimpse of Bastille making showmanship of her blade dashing a mask to pieces. A bit of a dramatic… Gabriel thought to himself as he ascended the stairs and opened the door hatch to the roof.
“Bon nuit, Ma belle, I see that you’re all prepared.” He made the common courtesy of small talk before hinting at his blade sheathed away at his side as the small clinking noise it made ticked down the time before one was to strike. One. Two. Three. Four.
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Feb 26, 2009 22:00:30 GMT -8
“of course, Im so very glad to see you humor me and oblige me with a duel…it is very pleasant of you.” Yes her speaking was different.
She unsheathed her rapier in a swift movement her eyes looking up at him with little to no emotion. The only thing that even hinted an emotion was the smirk she wore on her face. Her blade glinted in the mood light and she stepped forward motioning it into a starting position.
“shall we begin then?” her voice was softer, and more richly thickened by a strong British accent held by royal family members. Bastilles eyes glinted with the sword. She was going to enjoy this so very much. Gabriel was around her strength range, it should prove to be a fair fight. But something was different and she could tell by the way he acted he had an ace somewhere. Somewhere… her eyes dashed his from a bit to find it but as of the moment found nothing. She began to calculate his plan. The contacts in her eyes began to burn and she smirked. If anything, the contacts would prove to be her ace.
As the sword of the eclipse, let the lunar battle begin.
Though for fun lets just call it the second coming of your defeat at waterloo…frenchie. Remind me when this is over to give you the nick-name napoleon.
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Feb 26, 2009 22:12:14 GMT -8
“Of course, I’m so very glad to see you humor me and oblige me with a duel…it is very pleasant of you.” her speaking was different.
She unsheathed her rapier in a swift movement her eyes looking up at him with little to no emotion. The only thing that even hinted an emotion was the smirk she wore on her face.
“Shall we begin then?” her voice was softer
Gabriel leaned back as he unsheathed his own rapier. His was an older family one he’d used in many a duel always quick and ready for his use. The blade extended out giving him a wide range while the handle was covered with a guard bar giving his fingers some defense against cheap shots.
“Bon, let use commence.” He said accentuating his accent as to mock her own.
Gabriel kept his left hand on his waist as he extended his right arm out using the length of his blade to stab into Bastille’s box, pressuring her defenses till he found an opening. A jab to the upper right and then across to the center. He’d parry any offensive strikes he’d see coming his direction.
“En guard!” He commanded from a solid voice.
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Feb 26, 2009 22:23:00 GMT -8
“go” she said and then ducked. Ok so this was not going to be actually form fencing, she had learned long ago it went a hell of a lot quicker if you actually just pulled some other moved into it. She would notice the extra length in his sword, brilliant. This would be like the battle with that wanderer dude. Except now she had to compensate for his long range. She would take a step forward and then duck under his blade slamming hers up into his if he did not move it in time. She could continue to slide down the and then jump far to the side landing and then twisting all in one movement and hoping to slam her foot into his back. If he turned her eyes, covered by the contacts, would read this and she instead would kick her on legs out from under her and back summersault away to a crouching position.
(not once did I actually say I hit him!!! Take the hit if you will…)
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Feb 26, 2009 22:29:03 GMT -8
In the first few seconds the duel became a brawl, Gabriel’s father had always taught him you will know how a fight will end within the first few moments but this was odd, he knew how it would go but not the end. Gabriel’s long parries were dodged and evaded as Bastille closed the range performing an act of somersaulting about trying to take away his advantage of range. He couldn’t allow that, but if it did he still had his ace. She came about his back and sent a kick at his back which he instinctively turned to raise his left arm to block her kick. There she’d contact the arm band, the studs causing some fresh damage to her foot. He’d turn for a moment to glare at her as the tension rose, emerald and crimson crossing glances.
In another moment he was back on the offensive trying to press her to the edge resuming his advantage of range as he flung about his right arm again this time with swift slashing movement followed by a parry jab to the chest.
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Feb 26, 2009 22:38:08 GMT -8
She jumped up to her feet in a split second then jabbed her sword up in defense. Their swords would meet and she would stare at him. No emotion, none…despite the few holes in her leather boots and the scratched the studs had made on her skin, nothing. Her body didn’t even wince in pain. She had deflected the slash but with the jab she struck her sword at an upward slash motion to push it away. She would then duck to the side again and then falling hands first push herself up and off the ground and into the air. She would flip and then land facing away from Gabriel but in a swift turn, turn to face him face still blank. Her sword pointed at him ready to take on the defense, she was calculating his moves…right now she would have to focus on seeing how he fought, then she would find her offensive.
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Feb 27, 2009 20:59:34 GMT -8
Gabriel came at her sword clashing vigorously as they met in the center. Bastille’s figure was cold and emotionless, almost like a robot. While Gabriel had kept up much of the same attitude when the fight got truly strenuous he’d fight more vigorously and with more passion. He had fought far more advisories than Bastille, though he didn’t let his guard down something told him she was different.
Gabriel locked eyes with her, again the clash of crimson and emerald before she broke it with a swift uppercut of the blade. She made her way away playing the more defensive route to the battle, not the best bet for her; Gabriel could go on for hours. His lips turned up for a moment, it was just an instant but he covered it up once more.
He paced in a circle around, making the space between them tense with electricity waiting on the moment for the next strike.
“Where’s your passion, how do you fight like that? Emptiness….” Gabriel questioned from across the circle giving her a moment to reply before he would commence.
He sprung forward with a lunge and then recoiled to parry his blade within the box he’d created, he realized his advantage now, time to keep a close perimeter and wear her down.
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