hyperlit: (to get your potions)
ᴅʀɪғᴛᴇʀ ([personal profile] hyperlit) wrote in [community profile] lifeaftr 2019-02-24 06:35 am (UTC)

[The Drifter does not answer.]

[Or rather, their answer is all in motion - in the streak of kinetic energy that they've become, a blaze of scarlet blurring into violet from the force and speed of their forward momentum. They tear forward, blade drawn. Press the advantage, while they have it.]

[They engage her.]

[A blur of cerulean sings across the distance between them. They pivot, duck, juke, retreat, dodge, whatever they can to prevent her from pinning them down, whether by fists or by the rippling battlefield, the sand that threatens to swallow their ankles in a hold that, for one such as them, may as well be fatal. They do not strike at any point that might jeopardize their foothold. They do not sacrifice security for a parting shot.]

[If they can outlast her, perhaps there lies a chance.]

[Assuming they don't slip first.]

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