[Alice still hasn't gotten the full hang of magic yet. She's a fairly literal thinker when it comes to fighting given she's very much from a world where magic doesn't exist. Whatever tricks and twists she does in a fight have to be physically possible and she certainly doesn't consider using her newfound abilities to help in the moment.
It's a clear detriment to her style and one that she's now beginning to recognize with Gavial's shielding of both her and Amos. That first swing of hers was clumsy, meant to get them to back up some and perhaps scatter to one side or another. They barely do either and it's enough to have her gritting her teeth at her own ineptitude. She ought to have been practicing more with the Mahne, it had been a good month since she had and there's already a noticeable difference in how she can heft it.
They're trying to surround her as much as they can with only two of them. She tries to move with them, the tip of either end of the Mahne pointed each of their ways. If one strikes forward then she can jab in that direction -- that gives the other an opening though.
She takes in a deep breath, the weight of the Mahne in her hand familiar and saddening at once. Was a month or so all it took to make her so weak? She had always been so ill as a child but she had clawed her way into brandishing a blade and using this small, weak body of hers to her advantage.
... Ah, that's right.]
You're right ... there is no honor in this ...
[She sounds winded by the way she takes in her breaths. The droop of her shoulders says as much too, the way she braces her feet. Is that all she can stand of swinging such a big thing? Or is this a case of the lion feigning injury for the advantage?]
Then come and take whatever it is you need from me, cowards.
no subject
It's a clear detriment to her style and one that she's now beginning to recognize with Gavial's shielding of both her and Amos. That first swing of hers was clumsy, meant to get them to back up some and perhaps scatter to one side or another. They barely do either and it's enough to have her gritting her teeth at her own ineptitude. She ought to have been practicing more with the Mahne, it had been a good month since she had and there's already a noticeable difference in how she can heft it.
They're trying to surround her as much as they can with only two of them. She tries to move with them, the tip of either end of the Mahne pointed each of their ways. If one strikes forward then she can jab in that direction -- that gives the other an opening though.
She takes in a deep breath, the weight of the Mahne in her hand familiar and saddening at once. Was a month or so all it took to make her so weak? She had always been so ill as a child but she had clawed her way into brandishing a blade and using this small, weak body of hers to her advantage.
... Ah, that's right.]
You're right ... there is no honor in this ...
[She sounds winded by the way she takes in her breaths. The droop of her shoulders says as much too, the way she braces her feet. Is that all she can stand of swinging such a big thing? Or is this a case of the lion feigning injury for the advantage?]
Then come and take whatever it is you need from me, cowards.