[img]http://i.imgur.com/uysGLNb.png[/img]

[b][u]Phillis Circus: Big Top[/u][/b]

Isabella was sent skidding back by the force of Lute’s attacks, her legs quivering and body shaking as she struggled to remain standing amidst the reel of the virtuoso’s blows. At first all was quiet and still, the fighters around her all watching Isabella in silence and awe, amazed and enraptured in seeing what the cool and calm acrobat’s reaction would be. She was one of the circus’ most pried performers- diligent and hardworking, her talents keenly displayed throughout each and every single one of her performances, enough to earn the admiration and jealousy of all her peers. A woman such as Isabella Raine would not be so easily defeated… and once again here she was, proving such a fact.

The results of Lute’s attack however, was not what anyone could have expected. Even Poppy was stunned into silence at seeing her mentor brought to such a state, unable to comprehend it. This was… impossible for Isabella…!

The blonde, pigtailed acrobat wearily lifted up her head to face Lute and Aria, a hauntingly pained visage staring back at them. Blood trickled down Isabella’s nose and mouth, with a great volume of it running down from her ears. Lute’s attack was no mere sound attack, it had weight and power behind it too. The assault had reverberated throughout her body, attacking her from within, and the following shoulder tackle had only served to exacerbate it. Her hearing was shot, with nothing more other then a dull whine audible for her. She could no longer hear the chaotic screams and shouts of her fellows and their foes about her, only that unceasing, constant whine. 

She tried to take a step forward, and almost collapsed as well. Her sense of balance was gone. She could only hope it was temporary, otherwise… otherwise that boy had killed her. He had destroyed her life. Destroyed all sense and meaning in her existence. It would be a fate worse then death. 

Anger and rage consumed Isabella’s body. Despite the pain and difficulty, she broke out into a run, charging one last time towards Lute and Aria. Their attacks upon her home and friends, the audacity and nerve, the pure sacrilege it meant to try and hurt Guinevere… she could take no more. 

Her body crouched low, swiping up one of her dropped knives, holding it tightly in both hands as she charged towards Lute. Tears intermingled with the blood running free down her face, as images flashed through Isabella’s mind. Pictures of a young and lonely, traumatised girl staring at a burning village, all hope and love dashed in an instance. A girl on the brink of death, saved only by the warm and inviting smile of a teenage girl in a wonderful green dress, talking to and taking the crying girl to meet with and play with all of her wonderful friends… a life spent growing up and looking up to her friend and saviour, and the dedication and effort she put into paying her back, and become someone her friend could be proud of… 

Isabella screamed as she swung her knife at Lute.