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"Mihr," Ch'Kyal reciprocated. "Seems like he's become attached to Tharja more than his sword," Ch'Kyal joked. "You'll have to do me a favor and tell him about the Rhaac'val ordeal. I could do it as well if you cannot," Ch'Kyal offered.
While he had noticed the young magic user in the tavern, Ch'Kyal made no comment on him. |
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"Oh, I'm sure in the end, you'll just wanna go easy on me." she says, standing and offering a hand. "Shall we go?" |
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Mihr took her hand and was careful the way he held it. He wanted to come off as confident and assertive, so he gripped it, but not aggressive or abusive so he tried being gentle and loose. "Yeah, for sure. Buuut..." He paused, looking down at her, who was a few inches shorter than him. "Can I have the honor of knowing your name?"
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"Wow, what a tough guy, I better put you in your place~" She sings, as they walk. "I'm Tharja, and you?" |
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Smiling at the compliment and cute threat, he couldn't help but feel happy. "My name's Mihr." He said. Normally he would have given out his last name, but seeing as she didn't he was a bit hesitant to give out any info he didn't need to.
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They approached the place they were to spar at, a little open field, away from most crowds, but has some passersby. She lets people follow if they wish.
In the grass, she smiles to him. "Restrictions?" The girl asks, stretching. |
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"Ohh..." He paused. "Wanna just give it our all?" He winked. He looked down at his right hand and looked at the injury... yeah, this needed to be fixed soon, especially if they were to fight.
Forming claws with his left hand over his right hand, light spilled out. His muscles seemed to contract, and his face cringed a bit in pain, but soon the wound was gone and he just ripped the bandage off. "That's better."
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Tharja didn't look impressed. "You call that healing?" She asked, and removes her cloak, leaving her standing there, long hair flowing in the wind, in the skimpy outfit that showed way too much off.
"Whats win conditions?" |
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"Oooh." Mihr stood and stared. "You look much better with that off." He paused, and looked at the ground. "I think you should make them up. You seem like more of a g.ambler than me."
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"Good idea," Ch'Kyal says, waiting a minute before leaving the inn with Argent.
After a bit of tracking, he and Argent arrived at the arena, just as the two were deciding terms. "Seems they'll be combating soon. We'll be able to see the power both withhold. You mentioned you sparred with Mihr, yes? What's his experience? Did you win the spar?" Ch'Kyal asks, showering Argent with questions as they lurked in the shadows of the arena. |
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"Well, lets see...not real weapons, let's try not to kill eachother." She promies, dropping her staff and book. "And if you win, what do you want?" "If I win I want a foot massage" |
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"Okay, no real weapons." He smirked. His smirk was replaced with a quizzical look. "A foot massage? Thaaat's definitely giving me motivation to do my best." He trailed off, thinking about what he wanted. "Alright. Since you're choosing something weird, I... want that kiss that got interrupted before."
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"Well well, you call a foot massage weird?" "Can't have fun?" She asks, shaking her hips side to side. "Well, you ready to start?" She asks. |
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"I'll show you I can have fun." He said, definitely taking those hips into account with a massive mischevious smirk growing on his face. Some light erupted from his body, and soon something tugged at the back of his shirt, wanting to be free. Violently, his shirt completely ripped off, the cloth sent tens of feet into the air, falling to the ground slowly.
What was revealed in the back, now fully stretched out, were twelve foot long wings. These wings, originally meant to be white but tainted to turn a faint beige, were the staple feature of every Anfean around. Besides these wings, Mihr was just a regular human. "I'm ready. But you go first, what courtesy would I have if I didn't let you?" He said playfully.
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Tharja was prepared to throw down with him, and looked quick confused as the light erupted, shielding her face. Not looking at him, she didn't notice his large visible wings until they were already in full bloom, and admired his muscular chest.
"Well well, you really are a birdie." "Well then, I'm a cat, and I'll catch you, and play with you all day until you quit." "How about it, first to quit?" |
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"Hmph. You seem to be an honest man. I'll take your word for it," Ch'Kyal responded, trusting what Argent said wholeheartedly. He made no further comment until the two were about to start.
Ch'Kyal couldn't help but tilt his head slightly when the wings burst from underneath Mihr's clothing, having not recognized the Anfean present within him before. "Astonishing. I had no idea he was part Anfean. Did you?" Ch'Kyal asks Argent. |
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"Yeah, sure, first to quit, but... If you're the one playing with me I don't think I'd want to quit." Mihr said. He spread his legs apart and bent his knees. Flexing his arm muscles and curving his wings until they were a few feet in front of him and forming a C shape, he was ready. "Come at me whenever ya want."
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Tharja blinked at his comment, looking a bit jealous at him fighting fire with fire. "W-what do you mean!?" She yells, charging forward.
Her first plan of action was simple, slap him silly. The demon elf's open palm flew to his face, aiming right for his cheek. |
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His wings curled up. It'd been a while since he had to use these, but he suddenly got a use for it's many functions. His wings started out grand and feathery, but as they reached the end, they were limited to only three or so large feathers. Using these to get a grip, he used both wings to try and hold her wrists back.
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Tharja began to rear her hand back for the slap, and as she was about to send it forward, her wrist got caught up in the wing's grip. "W-WHAT!?" She yells, then aims for his face with her other arm. This arm was easily nabbed by the avian feathers, and held her in place, as she would use her free legs to give a swift kick to his gut, and maybe disable him from her hands like this. |
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Before he could react, Tharja's foot bashed his gut in. Making a groan, he fell backwards, stumbling a few steps and, as a result, dragging his opponent with him a few feet with his wings. He finally let go, and used them to regain balance so he wouldn't fall. Flapping them a bit, his feet levitated above the ground a few inches and he stood up straight yet again.
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Tharja's boot connected right with his gut. "TAKE THAT!" She yells, and is dragged a bit. "You wanna play dirty, well so can I!" Tharja announces, and quickly casts an illusion spell.
Three of her appear, and seemingly swap places randomly. She would make a charge forward, once again going for a big slap to him. |
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