[ Dextera lunges for the doppelganger, and with how intensely it's been gazing at him, it must be no surprise that it moves to retaliate at the same moment. Wounded or not, it might have even managed to land a reciprocal blow to Dextera, with a little luck.
-- except Gen manages to disentangle himself from that dizzying, stomach-churning haze of his copy's words just enough to move. He hurls his own mace at the doppelganger.
That copy of his manages to dodge the incoming projectile with ease; its trajectory is obvious, and its shape makes it a poor weapon for throwing, its weight spinning end over end with a heavy whooshing noise as it clips past the doppelganger to smash into a distant mirror. But that brief distraction does restrict the doppelganger's possible routes of movement, and by the time it returns its focus to Dextera, it's a little too late.
It staggers back as that sword rips a deep gash through its chest. Its own mace clatters heavily to the ground as it reflexively clutches at its chest, struggling to process what must be a significant amount of pain. ]
-- aha. [ But still, it talks, like it's what it was made for. Its gaze fixes sharp on Dextera. ] You really don't care, do you. -- you did that without hesitating at all.
[ Even as it starts to wobble on its feet, its smile is venomous. Getting in one last barb before it perishes. ]
Your pity's wasted, y'know. Just let him die next time. It'll be better for everyone that way.
no subject
-- except Gen manages to disentangle himself from that dizzying, stomach-churning haze of his copy's words just enough to move. He hurls his own mace at the doppelganger.
That copy of his manages to dodge the incoming projectile with ease; its trajectory is obvious, and its shape makes it a poor weapon for throwing, its weight spinning end over end with a heavy whooshing noise as it clips past the doppelganger to smash into a distant mirror. But that brief distraction does restrict the doppelganger's possible routes of movement, and by the time it returns its focus to Dextera, it's a little too late.
It staggers back as that sword rips a deep gash through its chest. Its own mace clatters heavily to the ground as it reflexively clutches at its chest, struggling to process what must be a significant amount of pain. ]
-- aha. [ But still, it talks, like it's what it was made for. Its gaze fixes sharp on Dextera. ] You really don't care, do you. -- you did that without hesitating at all.
[ Even as it starts to wobble on its feet, its smile is venomous. Getting in one last barb before it perishes. ]
Your pity's wasted, y'know. Just let him die next time. It'll be better for everyone that way.