[Mamoru has a lot of questions to ask. Gu Yun is armored, but he can see from the outline that his shades are projecting that his—whatever this is—is, too, but it is also blindfolded. As though a taunt. A jab in itself.
He doesn't look at the Gu Yun beside him, though, even if he wishes to. Even if there's a little pop-up label that stems from the weapon in his hands, and he wants to know more about it. He knows the length of a jiang is equivalent to the status of the one who carries it, has read and read of them but never really thought he'd come to actually face one.
He snorts, though it lingers in a chuckle because he's excited. For all the lofty airs that this impromptu fighting partner had scattergunned in both in people's minds and in this room, his focus as he prepares to fight feels like the tip of their swords. A thrum rolls through his ribcage like a drawn-out relieved sigh and the sharp intake of breath before you take a dive.
So when the attack begins, Mamoru is ready for the momentum of it, for the profundity of the strikes. His own doppelganger's attack is nothing but what he had said it would be, methodical, analytical, and not giving any room to breathe. He all but spars in kind, moving sideways so he doesn't go backwards, the metal rings—
the metal rings odd. How real is this being, exactly?
So he does pull back, he pulls back and stretches his arm sideways.
The hilt of his sword shatters glass. There's no superstition for a nonbeliever, and they had already filled this place with bad omens anyway.] What happens when you lose your home base, huh?
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He doesn't look at the Gu Yun beside him, though, even if he wishes to. Even if there's a little pop-up label that stems from the weapon in his hands, and he wants to know more about it. He knows the length of a jiang is equivalent to the status of the one who carries it, has read and read of them but never really thought he'd come to actually face one.
He snorts, though it lingers in a chuckle because he's excited. For all the lofty airs that this impromptu fighting partner had scattergunned in both in people's minds and in this room, his focus as he prepares to fight feels like the tip of their swords. A thrum rolls through his ribcage like a drawn-out relieved sigh and the sharp intake of breath before you take a dive.
So when the attack begins, Mamoru is ready for the momentum of it, for the profundity of the strikes. His own doppelganger's attack is nothing but what he had said it would be, methodical, analytical, and not giving any room to breathe. He all but spars in kind, moving sideways so he doesn't go backwards, the metal rings—
the metal rings odd. How real is this being, exactly?
So he does pull back, he pulls back and stretches his arm sideways.
The hilt of his sword shatters glass. There's no superstition for a nonbeliever, and they had already filled this place with bad omens anyway.] What happens when you lose your home base, huh?