[The first punch shocks him. Not in the physical sense, but a mental. She's a vicious creature and that alone gives him an odd, unexpected thrill. Appreciation, despite all the blood she's pulled out of him. More of his own to join the collection across his tunics.
The second provides the physical shock. A ringing disorientation through his being. He'd think he slotted out of alignment with his vessel if that were at all possible.
He spits a glob of blood her way before slipping out of reach with a beat of unseen wings, not wanting a third strike to follow.]
You know, you're a spitfire, I'll give you that.
[He tosses aside the speartip he had still clung to and extracts the switchblade from his palm, licking at the injury with a manic trill of laughter before dropping his arms to his side, grinning toothily, the moon reflecting off the blood on his teeth.]
I think I'd like to meet again. I am not going to forget you anytime soon.
[He turns and legitimately tries to just walk away.
If she makes any sign of coming after him, he'll fly completely out of the clearing (and add it to his growing list of Regrets).]
no subject
The second provides the physical shock. A ringing disorientation through his being. He'd think he slotted out of alignment with his vessel if that were at all possible.
He spits a glob of blood her way before slipping out of reach with a beat of unseen wings, not wanting a third strike to follow.]
You know, you're a spitfire, I'll give you that.
[He tosses aside the speartip he had still clung to and extracts the switchblade from his palm, licking at the injury with a manic trill of laughter before dropping his arms to his side, grinning toothily, the moon reflecting off the blood on his teeth.]
I think I'd like to meet again. I am not going to forget you anytime soon.
[He turns and legitimately tries to just walk away.
If she makes any sign of coming after him, he'll fly completely out of the clearing (and add it to his growing list of Regrets).]