#106
Post
by give me food » Mon May 26, 2003 9:46 pm
Hack, slash, hack, slash. Her injuries throbbed with every strike. Damn.
Like the rising and falling of...something that rises and falls on a regular, quicktime basis, Neo watched contemptuously as her opposer of ebony leapt at her, hacking and slashing furiously and relentlessly. Of course, this type of attack was simply construed out of absolutely no strategy whatsoever, drawing no concern from the femme fatale, and the veil of monotony quickly melted away as if it was never there...but instead, it was replaced with an arrogant, almost psychotic look boring into Dragoshi's own eyes ceaselessly.
Ceaselessly, as in, without movement or hardly a blink: not even to ensure that her already-handicapped vision was protected from the dust. >_>
This almost confirmed the fact that she was conjuring up some form of attack of plan in the depths of her puzzling mind. Yet through the eyes of Dragoshi, blinded by sheer rage and devoid of any modesty whatsoever, he figured that these two-handed strikes would do the trick. Normally Neo had her dead, blank look down to a K, but most of the time the energetic warrior allowed positive emotions to shine. Extreme rage was not one of these glimmers (rage was kept bottled up, and calm was her strong suit).
Neo allowed her tired, almost blind eyes to relax, and in a somewhat liquid motion her left arm--not her Kendo arm--raised a few inches away from her chest. Her fist clenched, as if a sort of soft sign of defense. Her other arm no longer throbbed, allowing her slightly crispy body to relax slightly; her injuries no longer felt pain, but numbed slightly, passively absorbing what damage had earlier been caused. She had a rather peculiar ambition for ignoring hurt, emotional or physical--though the latter didn't bother her as much, she was easily affronted by jabs at her tough exterior. This led foes and friends alike to see the more aggressive, less quiet-and-indifferent side of Neo B. Genesis, and by extensive use of these "low blows," had now come to fear her more...ambitious side.
Gelatinous blood seemed to cast darker shadows on the ground lit by flames, making small patterns on her shadow. It was kind of disgusting, like patches of some sort of disease if you looked directly at her; and indeed, a few years ago, at the sight of her now she probably would've vomited. Neo now saw disgust at things like lizards, insects, and bugs as a sign of weakness.
Suddenly, almost as if on instinct, her Kendo stick flew to her front, adjacent to her other arm--already cut up, like a fish ready to be served--and Dragoshi's blade made impact with an earth-shattering clang. However, the Kendo stick did not retract from the strength of the impact, and Dragoshi hunched over, his face inches away as if attempting to push with all his body weight...all 120 pounds of it was not enough to waver the lightweight girl, and out of her own stubbornness, neither sword vibrated with the force. It simply stayed that way, unlike the shaking blades of those in movies.
And in an explosion of metal, muscle and blood erupting from her wounds, Neo pushed out her right arm allowing it to sweep across in a horizontal motion to the East--the direction her part of the X had been placed in--and violently hurling Dragoshi across the cavern and into a rock dust wall, where he slammed violently in it with a sound similar to an explosion creating a Yoshi-shaped crater in the side. Her freakish look had fallen off in a plunk--the change unforseen, probably dropped in the middle of this--and replaced by a dead look, her eyes shining with something adjacent to mercy...but for who, herself or him? Her lips were curled in something short of concentration...
"Not too bright, are we...?" Neo said in a tone near a scowl, her face not matching her tone. Inexplicably, her eyebrows twitched--as did the hands at her sides--and she continued to watch the lame Dragoshi with a piercing stare.
Ribbons were intwined with her blazing locks--the ones reaching to the back of her knees--coming to a curly stop at the tips. An unzipped denim top bearing pockets had long sleeves, rolled up to enormous cuffs at her shoulders bearing trangles of blue and white, was promptly worn at the top--the unaccomplished zipper revealing a crisscross top, and blue ribbon-type cloth was wrapped in the style of mummification around her arms. She also clothed herself in a black hakama splitting into oversized pants withstanding black ribbons at the right side, and navy blue socks with a soft, flexible type of "sandle" tying itself over her feat. Floppy socks, I might add...
The black, crispy parts that dotted her like scabs and patches appeared to scoot and huddle onto her left hand...no, literally, they moved onto the hand for some inexplicable reason, like an oversized amoeba scuttling to embrace her forearm and fingers (her hand was already gloved in black, and her nails painted a rather contrasting red). It was disgusting, but the still color was drained leaving her normal tan as it once was before Dragoshi's firey outburst.
This was a very strange time to be alive. o_o
Heat energy and weather--the two main powers at the disposal of Neo B. Genesis, but weather only at an extend: she could not conjure rain or snow, or water of any form unless she did it artificially. Perhaps this was how the speckled black curled into her hand: the movement of burnt-out energy, from various places to her hand. Yet a sort of smoke seemed to seep out of her fingernails, as if experiencing an aftereffect from this movement, but her face did not change...well, it did, actually. Her eyes curved into a look of irritance and hints of anger, and her head tilted. Dragoshi was still imbedded in the small crevice between the wall and the floor, but quickly leapt to his feet in a somewhat adequate acrobatic display. Yawn.
Right hand...responding. Left hand...singed, burning, slow......
Right leg, left leg...stings a little bit.
As if a mutual agreement, both Neo and Dragoshi lunged forward violently in a display of aggression with perhaps a short battle cry from the samurai girl and a dinosaur-like growl from the "amateur," thus ensuing a short but relatively flashy and impressive display of swordplay from either side. The fight was less then evenly matched; Dragoshi moved a little bit more towards the pit with every opposite strike Neo landed, but the attacks continued relentlessly--sword and stick dancing evenly creating a rhythmin pattern of clanks and creating the image of something most certainly worthy of a period drama against the shadows. And when their blades locked, somehow, they would rise or fall to get eye-to-eye, and then he would take a quick glimpse at that psychotic, confident look gracing her tomboyish features.
His nemesis had a peculiar aptitude for period drama movies; IE, samurai, the code of Bushido, the Shinobi...When she was little--and still known as Paichi Mitsurugi--this kind of stuff fascinated her. In fact, I suppose you could say it still does, and that she's still little. o_O
Dragoshi put forth his all into this bit of hack-and-slash--noticeably not well enough, you should say--but failed to notice that it was cooling slightly here. It was felt as a blessing, the frigid biting into Neo's very flesh and skin, and slowly enough (for some inane reason) her attacks began to fail, or slow down... She was distracted. By what? It was then seen that her left arm had not been moved a single bit from its sentry position, but rather the blackness seemed to fade, and smoke swimming out of her fingers made its way out of the volcano. Now that her effort was slipping, a stalemate had been reached--Dragoshi could now compete with and counter her every move.
Suddenly, her left hand raised--an unexpected movement, as he had expected it to stay in a limp, flat position--and immediately went into contact with Dragoshi's throat, like force feedback on a futuristic simulation game, creating almost a type of explosion sound. His throat area felt cooler then usual--what was going on? Of course, there was no time to think about that--Dragoshi flew backwards, his scrawny neck writhing from the area of impact (where a purple-and-blue shaped ring was already beginning to form, as was a small bit of blood...bony knuckles? Maybe).
There was a shattering sound, like the sound of glass hit by a bullet... Wait, glass?
Her sensitive ears twitched at the sound, but her punching arm was still outstretched and her stance was retained stubbornly--yet her breathes were deep and heavy, shot with fatigue. Her breath was also visible in the cold... Wait, cold?
Yes indeed; the volcano wall was lined neatly with shimmering patches of white-blue ice, and the dust embraced by snow and other wintery things. Dragoshi's head jerked to where a lava pit would normally be--but all that remained was cool magma, and slight steam escaping. Walking in a winter wonderland, one might say. Neo began to walk a bit, but immediatly stopped to hide her rhythm, then stumbled to a wall. Her blood dropped onto the ice and slid off easily, and her eyes continued to sneer, never leaving Dragoshi's own optics.
She shifted her feet slightly, assuming what appeared to be a battle position, but instead found herself scrabbling for steady ground. Damn ice. Her sandles didn't help with the friction, and she would have an easier time going barefoot--but it was cold as hell. Bad analogy, yes, but that was the extremity of this situation. Neo raised her hand to grasp the volcanic wall, bent in a slight limp; she eyed Dragoshi, who seemed to be having a little "skate park" set up, his claws creating small ramps in which he slid up and down. Hopefully not on purpose.
Crap, this sucks. Neo inhaled a bit and chuckled morbidly, her grip tight enough to create small crevices in the crystalline walls. She lifted her fist from the wall, shifting slightly to maintain what little balance she had...and slammed it creating a "blam" kind of sound. "Ha--" She inhaled sharply, eyes narrowed, harsh and dangerous. "--fuu..." It was kind of a wierd sound--kind of the thing you'd see in a Manga, and the character is in the same condition--but that's what a ragged breath sounds like. As her icy, less-then-minty breath made contact with her metal Kendo stick, it created yet another sound--that hollow sound sounding like the ringing of steel drums in the tropics. That's what Master Onizuka said. But to her, it was almost angelic. Now, if she wasn't so firmly set against angels for some inane reason...
This was fun! ^__^
Neo knelt down, her body wobbling just a little as she did so, and tightened the ropes on her sandals. It was a little painful, but the numbness would probably wash over her after the battle was over, and when her feet could snag rest. Dragoshi managed to pull himself out instantaneously, as if noticing she was preparing for another onslaught... Neo eyed the small ramps he had managed to create with his constant sliding, as well as the rest of her morphed surroundings. These glacial conditions would probably disperse as soon as she was damaged enough, but she was willing to take a risk. Risks were everything in her world, because hey...she was 11. She thought they were pretty cool. And sometimes she might neglect times, schedules...but then she would remind herself that she would deal with them later.
She stood up tall and straight, almost the way a normal person would outside of battle, but her right arm was raised with her Kendo stick held a foot or two away from her head...and her left hanging limply at her side. The ribbons winding in and out of her locks of crimson hair appeared to glimmer with confidence, as did her small smile and her own eyes.
The samurai idly glanced at her reflection in the mirrorlike ice: not exactly see-through, but rather a sort of solid white or sky-blue. She looked pretty terrible: tears and slices riddled her body creating less-then-elaborate patterns on her rough skin, and her clothes were occasionally torn or ripped adding to her rugged appearance. Somehow, the ribbons in her hair and at her side seemed unscathed and neatly designing her body with their silk forms; her frame, though she was about 4'6", appeared tall and mighty due to strength and stretch. Her hair tossed recklessly albeit there was no wind to be seen/felt... But she suffered silently. In fact, to the naked eye she wasn't even suffering. She just looked battered.
Why was the heated, almost blazing volcano now reduced to this shiny Christmas cheer? Of course, this was her kind of thing: the removing of heat energy, not the weather (as aforementioned, she could not summon any form of water in a raw way). The sudden loss of fire and heat had reduced this once living stereotype of Hell to...well...yeah.
For a second, Neo looked up to the sky, at the small opening at the edge of the volcano, eyes glistening with something unexpressable; but her teeth gritted, and she slightly opened one hand, the one with the stick, but not as to let go, but rather just pointing her nails to the sky. A rather uncharacteristic movement, as Neo doesn't like doing things that looked pointless: she just didn't think that a warrior of such a high calibur should do such a thing. Then again, she also thought that Jell-o Gel Sticks were the spawn of Satan and that her next-door neighbor in another life was an undead zombie queen. Don't take that for granted.
(She had also, in a true Largo style, gave her best friend a couple of sharpened pencils and wore a T-shirt that said "3V1L L337". There was a couple of handmade "robots"... But I digress--)
Suddenly, she pushed off her right foot, allowing her left to slide towards Dragoshi in a sort of ice-skating motion, rather slow for a samurai warrior. Dragoshi pushed off as well, but in a leaping fashion so as to sail above her head. Suddenly, he reassembled behind her and swung his hand/claw horizontally in an attempt to smack her. The skating femme bristled at the change of the wind under his claw, and ducked instinctively--good thing too, a slight miscalculation probably would've cracked her cranium--but, in a truly brash fashion, she brought her sword up and bashed it into his ribcage.
CRAAACK
His skin suddenly flustered and crumpled slightly, and two seperate parts were felt making impact with her forearm and stick. Apparently she'd broken a rib...or two...or three...or six or seven. Don't ask me, I don't know the anatomy of a Yoshi-type thing. But anyway, this slight change was quickly recovered as Dragoshi grasped what strength he had lost from the blow and lifted his head, ready to smash it onto the top of Neo's cranium. She blanched. Uh, FSCK. Okay, think. Almost everything was in a delayed reaction for this girl. That's what made her...uh...something. ...There's an idea. She blanched briefly, for less then a microsecond. Would it work?
Dragoshi's head suddenly began to smash down. Crap.
Neo suddenly rushed at his torso for a quick tackle, knocking him down to the ice violently and briefly...and hereby, his chin cracked onto his torso because of the delay between the construing of an attack and the actual tackle. He felt the bones in his lower face dislodge, and he crumpled again slightly as blood began to seep out of the side of his...snout lippy thing. Between the knock, Neo, who had been adjacent to his torso and was in a sort of running position, left arm held out in front of her similar to the position she had assumed earlier to defend herself against his own onslaught, had placed her feet on his stomach area and sort of did a walk on his torso, stopping one foot at his chin, bringing it up in a somersault kick.
She lightly landed on the ice, her feet creating a small tap as they hit almost like a ballerina, and sank into a deep crouch so as to not shatter the ice beneath her feet. "Ha--" Neo inhaled again, her eyes glistening with what a normal person would've looked "tearful," but on her features, it was greeted as "playful". "--fuu..." Maybe they were just misty, or hazy, from all the pain she had pushed aside and allowing them to numb.
Still in the short crouch, Neo watched BSD leap to his feet into a similar position, glaring at her with all he could muster. But she simply grinned and held up one hand. And with a playful, almost childish motion, she motioned for him to, as she would've put it--
"Come on."
<i>relax, we understand j00</i>
