[There was something so satisfying about seeing Silco so rattled—if only for a brief moment—that made it all the more sweeter when Vander’s fist slammed into him with a successful first swing. Once, not all that long ago, he thought he never would have been able to bring himself to raise a hand to his old friend-turned-enemy again. There was no time to dwell on that, linger on the possibility of regret sinking its claws into him like it had in the past. He simply had to grab a hold of the satisfaction in this moment and let it propel him forward.
Vander’s own breathing was much more calm in comparison, all tightly controlled rage (for the moment) and well-practiced discipline when it came to a fight. He kept his attention squarely on Silco, eyes on the motion of his back-step, the readjustment of his knife, the way his gaze flitted about in search of—of what? A way out? A desperate way to even the odds?
He knew he had Silco on the back foot, knew he had to keep up the pressure. Vander had the advantage in this sort of brawl, and the best way to hold onto that was to not give your opponent a moment to recover, a moment to think—and that right there was paramount when it came to Silco. He may not have the raw strength, but he had cunning, and that could be dangerous in its own way.
So he followed Silco’s movement, pushed in to keep him on his toes. Vander sent a quick flurry of swings—one, two—his way, aiming to hit, yes, but more importantly, hoping to entice him to take a swing of his own with the blade, put him in danger of overreaching if he wasn’t just careful enough in his counterattack.]
no subject
Vander’s own breathing was much more calm in comparison, all tightly controlled rage (for the moment) and well-practiced discipline when it came to a fight. He kept his attention squarely on Silco, eyes on the motion of his back-step, the readjustment of his knife, the way his gaze flitted about in search of—of what? A way out? A desperate way to even the odds?
He knew he had Silco on the back foot, knew he had to keep up the pressure. Vander had the advantage in this sort of brawl, and the best way to hold onto that was to not give your opponent a moment to recover, a moment to think—and that right there was paramount when it came to Silco. He may not have the raw strength, but he had cunning, and that could be dangerous in its own way.
So he followed Silco’s movement, pushed in to keep him on his toes. Vander sent a quick flurry of swings—one, two—his way, aiming to hit, yes, but more importantly, hoping to entice him to take a swing of his own with the blade, put him in danger of overreaching if he wasn’t just careful enough in his counterattack.]