His knife scored hits on both movements, and it was unfortunately that the black clothing didn't allow the full scope of how the blood bloomed from the other weapon. He had felt the shock of his blade skipping off of bone, but he wasn't to kill the other, so he withdrew before he could twist to do more damage. What he had done was enough to prove that, while he was only Soldier to this Commander, he was capable in his own right of inflicting damage and following orders.
The call to stop the fight didn't come, but he hadn't been waiting for it either. He was here to fight another weapon, and he would do so until he was told to stand down. There was never a pause or hesitation in his motions to keep going as his metal hand continued to prevent the smash of the shield on him. They struggled, his blue eyes intent on the face of the other weapon who continued to carry that faint whimsy of something better, something warm and tender, something he needed in the same way that he required to be fed, watered and exercised.
He felt the wet spatter of blood on his half-mask, across his nose and had to blink quickly to avoid it in his eyes. He drew his head back but not fast enough, their foreheads colliding and with the greater strength and height, he released his hold on the wrist with the shield and withdrew, shaking his head to clear it as he raised his bloody knife.
This time, he took the offensive and darted back in low in an attempt to jam a leg hard into the other weapon's knee as he punched at the man's sternum with metal fist and slashed for the back of his opponent's thigh with his knife.
no subject
The call to stop the fight didn't come, but he hadn't been waiting for it either. He was here to fight another weapon, and he would do so until he was told to stand down. There was never a pause or hesitation in his motions to keep going as his metal hand continued to prevent the smash of the shield on him. They struggled, his blue eyes intent on the face of the other weapon who continued to carry that faint whimsy of something better, something warm and tender, something he needed in the same way that he required to be fed, watered and exercised.
He felt the wet spatter of blood on his half-mask, across his nose and had to blink quickly to avoid it in his eyes. He drew his head back but not fast enough, their foreheads colliding and with the greater strength and height, he released his hold on the wrist with the shield and withdrew, shaking his head to clear it as he raised his bloody knife.
This time, he took the offensive and darted back in low in an attempt to jam a leg hard into the other weapon's knee as he punched at the man's sternum with metal fist and slashed for the back of his opponent's thigh with his knife.