Description: A play fight gone wrong earlier in the day has left the punk rock princess in a bit of an emotional upheaval. So, she's gone off to a clearing in the Southtown woods in order to be alone. Only, she's not as 'alone' as she thinks. After a bit of bantering, she agrees to spar with the would-be Champ of the Junior League... which leads to an interesting outcome.
It is a dark and stormy night...
Okay, it really isn't. The night is wonderfully gorgeous. The sky of the evening fading from a multi-toned pastel hue into something more of a royal blue. No clouds tarry in the sky, a gentle breeze blowing the subtle wisps overhead. Chirping from the trees can be heard as birds begin to settle in for the evening. Grass rustles about beneath the canopy of trees as small creatures dart away from predators. And in the distance?
A soft sob can be heard.
The woods of Southtown aren't a place a young woman normally hangs out in; especially when they're from a much larger city on a different continent. After today's events though, Arika really just needed some place where no one would bother trying to find her. Sparring with and injuring the one person she actually cares about more than she cares for herself really did a number on her psyche. To make things worse? He totally cooled toward her because of it. She can barely be seen, sitting beneath a tree in the clearing. Knees are drawn up, arms around them as her head rests upon it. Eyes are puffy and red from crying most of the late afternoon and evening. Definitely not a sight she'd want any fans to see.
The British girl really need not worry; no one is coming to find her, even if someone is likely to stumble onto her quiet hidey-hole for crying. The air may be crisp and full of wildlife, but that doesn't mean Preston likes it. Far from it, in truth. A man of the sea, he's thinking entirely that he's exited through the wrong side of town, and that he'd be better off down at the harbor instead. Regardless through, he strides through the forest, as arrogant and as proud as ever -- in that order, mind. The would-be Champ of the Junior League, even if he fails to recognize the supposed importance of the title, it seems he's seen fit to stride the forest floor this eve.
Whether to clear his own mind or otherwise, his purpose out here is likely to fall by the wayside as he picks up something that isn't the cry of an animal, or the hoot of an owl. "Do they even have owls in Japan?" he wonders aloud, his mental muse turning physical as he stops to scratch the back of his head.
Pushing on, the British boy finds himself drawn in the direction of the sound. Maybe it's an injured animal -- maybe a deer. He could certainly go for some fresh deer, however sacred the animal is meant to be in some parts of Japan. Mouth salivating at the thought, the brute pushes through the undergrowth, his oar extended as he stalks his new prey...
Sad, isn't it? With all the people that claim to be a friend, not a one of them will bother coming to find her. Though, Arika hasn't precisely left a forwarding address, or told them to send mail care of the critters of the forest. Lost not only in her own thoughts, but the feeling that the one person she really cared for now hates her she disregards the noise.
Normally alert, she'd be on her feet seeking the source. Tonight, however, she figures it's just an animal. A large cat, maybe. Perhaps a deer. Certainly a sound she heard in the summer home back in England. Little does she know that the sounds of her sobbing is luring a predator directly to her.
Sad perhaps, but it may turn all the sadder, depending on how the rest of the evening goes for the British lass. The undergrowth continues to be stirred, until finally -- finally -- an imposing silhouette looms out of the foilage. Big, brawny and apparently topless, a set of predatory eyes turn down to regard the prey present. Teeth are bared, and then...
"Oh."
Stepping forward, the son of a Duke reveals himself, scratching at the back of his head again. The oar is hefted, and slanted across his shoulders, that arm continuing up to rest over the shaft. "What in the fuckin' hell are you doing out here, girl?" he questions, tone mildly accusing for some reason -- no doubt a reason all his own. "This isn't a pop stage. I don't see no fuckin' band."
Had she been standing, Arika likely would have jumped at the sound of a voice. As it is, she back up against the tree trunk almost defensively. Lifting her head up in an instinctive manner, she wipes away the tears and peers through the darkness to see who it is. There is one name on the tip of her tongue, but even before she hears the accent she knows it's not who she wishes it to be.
More's the pity.
Quickly shifting gears, she slams her 'mask' into place. Hurt and confused 'Erica Halburn' goes back to being the bitchy Arika Fade. "Wot the bloody 'ell does it look like I'm doin' out here?" Answer a question with a question, even with tears wavering in your voice and it usually gets people to back off. "Could ask you the same thing. Wot's the matter? Lose your rowboat somewhere?"
Defense mechanism. She can't help it really. He's caught her at her most vulnerable, and that's not precisely something she likes.
And in the face of such a tiny offensive, the burly Brit finds himself with that smirk on his face -- the smirk that is practically the trademark of Pacific Resistance. Teeth flash, entirely too straight and white for someone from their country, as he replies; "As a matter of fact, yes I have. Don't suppose you've seen it out here while you've been doing... whatever the hell it is you're doing out here, eh?" Does he know? In the limited light provided, is he able to see how red her eyes are, the tell-tale signs of tears falling?
Either way, it seems Preston isn't likely to either notice her emotional state, or otherwise care. "Funny place to run into you though. Whatever happened to that little charity fight we were meant to have, anyway?" Is he aware at all, of her involvement overseas? Unlikely. He seems entirely too self-centered to have seen her on the news, if she made an appearance. "Didn't figure you the type to bail on such good publicity."
"Nope. No ships 'round 'ere," Arika states, trying to get control of her voice. Another wipe of her eyes and a small, almost silent sniffle. Hands slide up along the trunk of the tree and she draws herself up to her feet. Catching the white flash of his teeth in the moonlight she sighs. It's working out to be one hell of a day. Should she really continue with the verbal sparring?
What if it turns into something more physical? Could she live with herself if she hurt someone else today?
"Mm." Funny place to run into her? Precisely why the diva is out here. Not a soul would think to look for her out here. Only someone's found her in the illustrious game of hide and seek she was trying to play solo. "Got busy. Was out of the country for a bit. It 'appens." Shoulders roll back in a tiny, unconcerned shrug. "Out of my control really."
Either blissfully unaware or opting to ignore it to save Arika some face, the girl's emotional state goes by. Preston continues to speak about as normally as he would; likely the fact that she's a countrywoman is the only one thing that saves her the cutting edge of his tongue. "Guess I'll just have to keep walkin' 'til I hit the port then," he adds, going along with the minor gag; it's entirely the wrong direction for him to be walking in. He offers no explanation as to why he's here, and she does much the same.
"You're lucky I got a look at you before I decided to just strike, mind. Thought you were a deer. I'm kinda hungry." For a man as big as he, he very likely finds himself in that state rather frequently, but his dietary needs fall by the wayside. "Don't worry 'bout it. We'll get that fight happenin' sometime."
After a moment's pause though, he lifts the oar clear of his shoulders, testing its weight as a smirk paints his face. "Unless you happen to feel like a little... rumble in the jungle."
"Saints preserve us. Did you just make a -joke- Preston Wellington?" Through the emotions beneath the mask, the diva actually smiles a little at that. Maybe he's not all -that- bad after all. Especially since he's not prying about her emotional state or questioning her reason for being out here further than he already has.
"Now you're soundin' like that Blanka bloke. Did you know he's got a penchant for trying to devour people?" Pretending skulls are melons is apparently a pastime of the green 'monster'.
The darkness of night -thankfully- covers the whiteness of her face as the color drains from it. Mention of 'jungle' has her feeling queasy for a second. Memories flood her then, and she tries to shake them off. "Er..." Pause. Should she be fighting? In this state of mind? "Oh, why the bloody 'ell not? You're 'ere, I'm 'ere. Might as well do a wee bit of a test before our charity match, hmm?"
"Me, make a joke? Think you need to clean your ears out, luv, do I look the type to make a joke?" Preston defends his actions, playing off his part in drawing out that momentary smile from her; he doesn't really care, really! But it was a joke, he just doesn't want to admit it, opting to maintain his image instead. "Blanka? Never heard'a him, but if he's into cannibalism, I don't want no part of that."
Despite what memories he may stoke from her recent ordeals, the British brute pushes on. "A test? I guess that's one way to put it. Was wantin' to tussel with a deer or a bear or somethin', but I guess you'll do." Wasn't the one who offered the fight -- and already he lightly pokes fun at her about it? A man of contradictions, he swings the oar lazily through the air, glancing this way and that with those clear eyes of his to get a feel for the surrounds. The foilage isn't too bad, but with the trees nearby he'll have to be careful with his swings. "Well, whenever you're ready, luv," he adds, looking at her again.
COMBATSYS: Preston has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Preston 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Arika has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Arika 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
"Don't worry, mate. Me lips are sealed. 'eaven forbid someone of your standin' make a joke, eh?" Arika exhales a deep, shuddery breath and then shrugs her shoulders. "You'd know'em if you saw'em. Big green bloke. Penchant for zappin' people with electricity and slobberin' on 'eads." At least, that's what it seemed like from the SNF fight a week back. Curious that she's not run into him tonight, unless he's stopped hanging out in the forest around here.
"That's right. A test. See 'ow well we play together. 'ate for one'a us to become -seriously- injured at a charity match." Arika squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries her best not to think about what happened earlier in Chinatown. Not think about Drake being hurt or cutting her off like that. Hurts too much and she doesn't want pain or anger to seep into this fight too much. "Just do me a favor, hmm? You 'appen to knock me out cold with that bloody oar of yours, you carry me out of the woods and back to civilization? Loathe the thought of bein' slurped on by a wee beastie." Shuddering she nods at him.
"Right, then." It takes her just a second of shaking her body about as she limbers up to try and figure out a way past that oar. Chambering her right hand into a fist, she launches herself forward and upward in an attempt to send a jab up to his jaw. As she tries to distract him with her tiny little fist, her left hand slams toward his torso. Bright violet energy flares up around it in the dimness of night, outlining her for a moment. If he didn't happen to see puffy eyes before, he'll get a good look now.
COMBATSYS: Preston endures Arika's Diva Allegro.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Preston
Just how well will they play together? It all depends really, on that first strike. "Yeah, you seem light enough for me to carry," Preston agrees with a smirk. "In fact, you should consider actually eatin' sometime, you can't be a healthy weight." Isn't he just a charmer when he wants to be? What may have been a compliment turns into a criticism; it's the Brit's patent way of speaking to other living beings. The talk of Blanka falls to the way side as she launches at him though -- and the burly Brit simply smirks as she draws in near.
In retrospect, she need not worry about the feint; the Brit fails to move, simply absorbing the blow to his belly. While it stings, it does little more than draw a heavy grunt from him as he remains that towering monolith of muscle. "Oh, that tickled," he's quick to retort verbally, as his body ripples into motion. His hand snakes out to grab her, but just as she feinted, so does he. Those massive fingers curl in an attempt to grab her clothing, but it's the sudden swing of his oar that she needs to worry about! It swoops through, whether he catches her or not, in an attempt to simply bludgeon her with blunt trauma. "Don't worry about the wee beasties right now, luv; you've got bigger fish to deal with!"
COMBATSYS: Arika blocks Preston's Medium Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Preston
Trained as she is in Dambe, the Brit is no fool when it comes to feint attacks. Oh, she certainly doesn't catch every single one of him, but had the much larger Preston Alistair Wellington II wanted to manhandle her, he could have easily made the attempt already. Though her eyes flit over to the hand that's making the 'grab', she's paying more attention to the oar. Seems someone knows his style from the one fight they were paired together. Due to this, she's able to get her arms up to block the majority of the force that's coming her way. Bruises will appear by morning, but at least they're not on a place she likes to show off so much.
Grinning through the darkness, she shakes her head. "Fishies and rowboats won't work out 'ere, mate. Start thinkin' more along the lines of allusions that work for the forest." Arika ponders what to do next. He's far too large to simply lift up and toss to the ground, isn't he? Looks to be. For that reason, though she lunges in like she's about to grapple up with him she twists her body. At the very last possible moment, she sends the heel of her foot careening toward his ribs in a mule kick.
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Arika's Medium Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Preston
"Let me think about it," the Brit replies back with a smirk, mentally considering his options; he's more used to mentioning water-related activities, affiliated as he is to the sea -- but he'll no doubt come up with something witty momentarily. While his strike through is blocked, he seems hardly perturbed. She can't defend forever, he knows that -- not with the amount of force he's bringing to the table. But as she leaps at him in her retaliation, he considers his options; surely she can't be meaning to grapple with him, not with his bulk! Instead he thinks ahead, thinks laterally, and as that kick snaps out for his ribs he brings his forearm into place, cushioning the blow with sheer muscle.
"Get your head out of the trees, that won't work on me!"
It's weak, and it's meant to be. Let her laugh if it will distract her -- he reaches for her ankle in the meantime, to simple grab her and slam her into the nearest tree! Talk about vicious, but then, that's Preston all over. Should he grip that slim ankle, she can expect an oar in the middle for her troubles, before she's sent on the journey with a massive heave.
COMBATSYS: Arika dodges Preston's Bunting Tosser.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Preston
It's very weak, and Arika does laugh at it. Snicker, really. She'd never be so rude as to laugh loudly at someone's attempt at working with their surroundings, even if it is feeble. But does the attempt distract her?
Not in the least.
Hands reach for her ankle, and Arika is leaping skyward. Luck would have it that there just so happens to be a branch from which she can dangle momentarily. While it doesn't get her very high, it places her out of the way of the strike. "Tch. Come now, Preston. You wanna manhandle me, don't you think dinner's in order first?" The tough-girl 'flirt' attitude is coming out more than she'd like, but it's all part and parcel of this masked persona.
Since she's already up here on a branch, she utilizes it as much as she can. Kicking her feet forward, she begins to swing back and forth on it. Enough so that she's building up a decent amount of momentum. Releasing both hands, she literally -throws- herself at him in the hopes of knocking him back. To the ground would be the goal, but even surprising him enough to get him to stagger a few steps would be good enough for her.
COMBATSYS: Preston interrupts Medium Throw from Arika with Queen's Regulations.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Preston
While it may not have distracted her, it seems entirely a failure by the end of it, with her managing to neatly evade his attempt to monopolize on the would-be joke. "If I wanted to manhandle you, I think I'd be succeeding a little better. But don't go thinkin' I won't, if you keep flappin' ya gums like that!" Preston roars as she comes in for her strike against him, the bodily attempt to force him back. She impacts, but he has something waiting for her -- something that isn't quite the manhandling he promised.
It is however, very wooden and very hard. She collides with his barrel-like chest, but then his oar comes crashing through. Graceful would be the word to describe the way in which he wields his weapon, floating from hand to hand as he seeks to strike her not once, not twice, but thrice -- the final to take her legs out and knock her back, to force a momentary space between the two so he can deliver that smirk of his. "Was it good for you?"
So, throwing herself at a guy that has well over a hundred pounds on her isn't a great idea. Upon impact, she finds the air being knocked out of her. Unfortunately, that's not all she feels. How could she go and forget that he's got a massive oar with him? Oh, right. She didn't forget, just didn't figure he'd be quick enough to react in this manner. Each strong hit sees her wincing, but there's a sheer stubborn streak in her that has her refusing to cry out. Hitting the ground, she brushes her thumb along the side of her nose a few times and intakes a sharp breath.
"Good for me? Luv, you'd 'ave to be a whole 'ell of a lot better than -that- for it to be good."
That retort could stand to have been a little wittier, but Arika is trying to keep things 'clean'. After all, she doesn't want to give him the wrong idea.
Using both hands to push herself up to her feet, she gives her head a shake. The diva has to keep focused, but her mind just keeps slipping back to earlier this afternoon. Fists set to either side of her temple as she tries to push away the pain from that incident. Without realizing she's doing it, her feet begin to hop from one to the other. Back and forth, picking up speed as she moves to some sound or tempo only she can hear. As the steps bring her closer to him, she pirouettes in a perfect three hundred and sixty degree circle. Before facing him again, her right leg is drawn up in a near vertical position. Hip rotates to the side and then the instep of her foot is launched toward his torso.
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Arika's Rhythmic Roundhouse.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Preston
The witty talk momentarily ceases as they both concentrate on the battle, at least for one move -- she twirls at him, bringing that foot at his torso with a thundering force -- but again, he seems to bring his forearm into place, bracing against her shin to cushion the strike. "You've got slick moves, but it feels like it's all for show, luv. Show me something good!" Preston roars the last sentence from deep in his belly, startling birds into flight and deers into a fierce run -- but with the exertion comes a show of force all his own, as he pushes back against her strike.
Repelling the blow, he seeks to capitalize, again by gripping her ankle. This time though, he's entirely less fancy. Aware of her speed, he seeks to simply drag her through and send her into the ground, to display his brute force.
COMBATSYS: Arika blocks Preston's Quick Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Preston
Not every fight can be filled with witty repartee. After all, there comes a point when people need to focus on things. Crashing her shin against his forearm, she curses in a muted manner to herself. Looks like she's barely putting any chinks in his 'armor'. Any reply to the great roar is lost in the cacophony of animals taking flight.
Before she's able to put her foot back on the ground, he's got her ankle and is dragging her onto the forest floor. Bracing herself for it, the damage to her body is minimal. A smirk appears upon her lips and she quips, "Oh, bloody brilliant. You Tarzan, me Jane. Are you quite done with the Neanderthal games?"
Wrenching her ankle free she twists her body up onto the right side. Both feet shoot out and try to lock around his ankles in order to trip him up and knock him backward as she suddenly twists her body in the opposite direction.
COMBATSYS: Arika successfully hits Preston with Quick Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Arika 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Preston
She may be putting more chinks into his proverbial armor than she realizes. Her latest attempt proves particularly fruitful, as her feet twist his leg and it sends him for a minor scatter. Stumbling back, he collides with a tree rather roughly, the bark doing a charming number on his bare back. "Ow," Preston mumbles as he rubs at the back of his head, grimacing as he pulls out a piece of bark. Well, that was hardly the effect he was after. "Neanderthal games? Fine, shall I show my other side, the one with the blue blood? I don't fuckin' think so, luv."
Essentially promising to be a caveman, he wields his club and attempts to do just that. Drawing it forward, he twists it once between his hands before lashing out. The blade slices the air, held flat, seemingly seeking her throat -- but it's JUST short, the air instead distorting as a crescent of energy forms in the oar's wake. Floating for but a moment, it's that which slashes forward for the Singer, aiming to hurt!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Arika with White Horses.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Arika 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Preston
Oh, it hurts alright. Expecting a blow from the club, the diva attempts to tumble out of the way. Very little chance that she's actually going to allow -anything- to hit the moneymaker after Kurow's tried to tear her throat out twice. When the blow comes just short of her throat as she starts to roll to the side, she blinks. If it's not going to hit her wha-- ohmigodow.
Momentarily stunned by the abruptness of the energy attack, she blinks up at him. "Wot's for the aftershow, mate? Grunting and dragging the wee woman back to your cave?" One of these days, she'll learn not to be such a smartass.
Though if he wants to play that way?
Staggering back to a tree, she takes hold of a branch and hoists herself up onto it. Making him out in the moonlight, she leaps off of the branch and executes a backflip in mid-air. As she descends, she careens toward his body. Arm extended in an attempt to slam against his throat and knock him down.
COMBATSYS: Arika successfully hits Preston with Medium Throw.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Arika 1/-------/=======|=======\====---\1 Preston
"Play your cards right, and maybe," Preston plays along with the running joke, smirking after that brief exertion of energy down the line of his oar. That smirk is swiftly wiped from his face though, as her arm collides with his throat. "Guurk-!" he manages, as her flabby little (ok he's just being mean) arm slams through his heavily roped muscles. Stumbling back several paces, the Brit is forced to try and breathe, let alone catch his breath -- but he isn't long about it. Flexing the muscles that run his neck, he growls out a curse; "That fucking hurt, bitch."
Shaking his head, he casts off the pain as sweat runs his brow. Without a doubt, this has been a workout -- and a painful one at that. Spitting to one side, he cracks his neck loudly... and then he grins.
With a sudden dash of speed for a frame his size, he leaps to close the gap between the two. As he flies through the air, the oar snaps out to one side -- and he twists, spinning once in the air, dragging that massive weapon through with all the force he can muster. The air whistles as it is sliced, but the linear strike seems pretty clear.
With his fellow Briton as the target, Preston lets loose a guttural roar as he nears, every muscle in his body flexing hard as he draws additional strength from his physique. As he completes his spin, he snaps the oar out wide, offering her the broad face of it in an attempt to send her into, or through, the nearest tree -- if not right into last week!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Arika with Man Overboard!.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Arika 1/-======/=======|-------\-------\0 Preston
Her meek little arm to the throat hurt him that much? Damn. Maybe Drake -is- right. She plays a wee bit too rough. But then he's just getting coarse with her. Arika pauses just long enough to respond, but she never gets the chance to. That bloody huge oar comes crashing into her torso, sending her flying. Airborne, she struggles to launch herself forward and out of the toss. It's not to be, sadly. Her back hits against the trunk of a rather massive tree and a thunderous **CRACK** can be heard throughout the clearing and quite possibly the rest of the forest.
Sprawled out beneath the tree, the diva groans. She's content to lay there unmoving, but the sound of creaking wood has her crawling out of the way as fast as she can. Once several feet away, she pushes herself up to her feet and then she glares across the night at the blue blood. "And that didn't?" She'll be pulling splinters out of her backside for a week, she's sure of it.
Tired and pained, she's just got to continue. It's her way. Rushing toward him, she angles her arm out toward his face. Before it's got any hope of impact, she's circling behind him and stepping up onto a stump. There, she attempts to reach under his left arm with her right hand. Her left hand crosses in front of him the opposite way as she tries to lock him up in a half nelson...
COMBATSYS: Arika successfully hits Preston with Punk Rock Breakdown.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ]
Arika 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Preston
Upon a successful grapple attempt, she locks her arms around his neck. Now comes the extremely difficult part. Reaching into reserves she rarely uses, she actually manages to hoist him up into the air. For a moment it's touch and go. Her footing falters and she nearly drops him prematurely. Quickly regaining her balance, she begins to spin him around in a slow circle. Each turn sees the circle gaining speed, but she's not about to attempt to hoist him up above her head.
She happens to like her arms and intends on keeping them.
After several more turns, she uses the remainder of her energy to slam him down to the ground roughly using the full force of her body. The intent is to drop him on his head and shoulders. But once this is all done? She takes a step back, trying to catch her breath.
Now suffice it to say -- that hurts! After demolishing the older, girly Brit with his strike, Preston actually figured she'd give up and go back to her crying -- or whatever miscellaneous activity she out here doing. But not only does she get back up, she gets back up angry. "Hey, it's meant to hurt. Them's the breaks, as it were." And were she made of less stern stuff, she'd likely have a few breaks. But when she comes back at him one more time, he's finding himself a touch too exhausted to properly evade her charge. The half nelson works, and for a moment the burly Brit finds himself off of his feet.
It's a rare experience, and he could almost swear he was flying -- right into the ground, after that slow circle. "Worst... ride... ever," he growls, skidding a few meters before hoisting himself back to his feet. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grimaces, knocking away a bit of dust as he does so. "You got some moxey, luv, managin' to lift me. Hope that didn't put your back out." From the smirk on his face though, he half-hopes that it did. For a man of his size and stature to be hoisted, it's mildly embarrassing.
Fully aware that he's done though, he considers his options. One final strike, to keep her guessing -- or does he take the higher ground? "Guess we'll be seein' each other again soon, luv; I'm done for now." Lifting that oar, he considers again his options... and then simply slants it over his shoulder. Turning, he lifts a hand over his shoulder as he ambles off into the forest, away from town as he originally intended. "And whoever made you cry isn't worth it," he offers as his parting words.
"After all, you're British."
COMBATSYS: Preston takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Arika 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Preston can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Arika 0/-------/-----==|
Arika could use his own words and point out that 'hey, it's meant to hurt'. Instead, she gives her smart mouth a break and remains silent for a long moment. Crossing her arms over her chest, she rubs at them and tries her best not to wince. Lifting a man twice her weight? Put one heck of a strain on her muscles, that's for sure.
"It ain't meant to be fun, mate," the diva retorts regarding his 'ride' comment.
"Guess so." Deep blue eyes pierce through the night, trying to come up with a reason for why he didn't take the final strike that would have likely brought her down. Finding none, she sighs softly. He certainly wasn't holding back with her, as evidenced by the poor broken tree across the clearing. "Thanks for the distraction." Much needed, thanks to the day she's had.
A slender eyebrow lifts a little, accompanied by a smirk at his parting comment.
No reply is given though.
None is needed.
She obviously thinks whoever it is is worth it, otherwise... she wouldn't have been crying to begin with.
COMBATSYS: Arika has ended the fight here.
Log created on 22:09:22 07/24/2007 by Arika, and last modified on 15:59:36 07/25/2007.