He was fast, she'd give him that. It surprised her, for usually she was the swiftest in play, the first to land a blow while dancing upon her neat hooves. It seemed that for once she would not be matched with a brawny warrior but one as fleet-footed as herself... and that perhaps Aion could be more of a challenge than she had first thought. As his hard hooves flicked upward (those tender bones avoiding her initial strike) she jerked her elegant head backward, the momentum from her own attack working against her even as she found ground to push off of.
Soft white hair filled her vision as she lurched backward, feeling rather than seeing her opponents hooves as they flew past her delicately boned face, scraping the side of her soft skinned cheek. There was a brief pause and then blood welled and spilled in a crimson line down her face, a thin slice of flesh missing just below her left eye. Liesel snarled, exposing bone-white teeth even as she felt her chest buoy with adrenaline and excitement — here was someone she might actually find difficult to outpace!
Wasting no time and ignoring the burning bruised feeling of the cut, Liesel leaped forward with bared teeth as she attempted to sink them deep into the Sages alabaster rump. It wasn't the most elegant move, but it would be a tough one to shake if she managed to get a good enough hold.
Aion seemed to emanate cold like body heat, the scent of brittle winter air clinging to his porcelain skin in a refreshing,
clean perfume. He
also seemed to give off the distinct sense of contempt, which, combined with the messy cut he'd gouged across her cheek, made attacking him considerably easier.