[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img]
[sub][@Raineh Daze][/sub][/center]

[b]"Far more desperate. Far more forward."[/b] Words echoed, their fight stalled for a brief moment. Serenity narrowed her eyes incrementally, [b]hollow light within the cerulean gaze. There was nothing pleasant about such laughter, even if Damon wasn't a blood-thirsting zombie. "You would compare yourself favorably against the common people of Thaln, yet ignore that unlike them, [i]you[/i] were born into House Cazt."[/b]

Born to privilege and education, to mannerisms and the noble's obligation. To be an exemplar that common folk aspire towards, to be the paragon that common folk shelter before. And that was not a duty one was freed from in death, for their life has been blessed many times more than the son of a peasant, a merchant, a craftsman, a servant. If they were a steward of the land, it was their duty to see it flourish. If they were gifted the swordhand of a war-spirit, it was their duty to restrain it, to lash out only against foes of the realm.

[indent][i]Your Ancestors rest in the Elysian Fields.
Die they may, but forever stand as humanity's shields.[/i][/indent]
She would not understand Damon. Damon could not understand her.

So onwards, the shadow-dance continued, wind whistling and sparks clashing as steel met steel, boots sliding against cold stone, dust kicked up into clouds of haze with the blasphemed crypt. She could see it in his face now, curiosity and thought behind the veneer of a vampire-noble. But so long as he remained within the realm of a duel, she could follow along. His manual of swordsmanship was centuries out-dated, and as for herself? The lion was ready to [i]try[/i].

Steel sang its deflectional parry, the longer blade's tip flicked aside by the forte of the shortsword. In the same motion, Serenity released her grip on the mace, momentum sending the flanged head towards Damon's face without any telegraph. It wasn't a maiming throw. Just a distraction for what happened next.

A step to the side. A spin of the wrist. Shortsword slicing towards the extended forearm, angled so that even if retracted, flesh would be drawn against the edge. Free hand now, grasping the blade. Pulling at it, pulling with the intent of disarming a vampire who would hopefully have just had the tendons of his arm severed.

And if not? Then that was fine too. The more weapons Serenity [i]discarded[/i], the lighter she got.