[CENTER][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230116/a7d94ebf6892f0bf63ad8069ecd19282.png[/img][/CENTER] [hr] Well, she wasn't wrong. He did not in fact dodge the knives. But what he did wasn't really any better. Honestly, it was miles worse. Luen almost laughed as she batted aside the obviously mocking blows; there was no way for them to even [i]reach[/i] her, such was the difference in their reach. As it was, a small and deeply bitter smile spread across her face. [i][color=D0D4E5]Of course I would fight a fire aura. Why did I think my luck would be any different?[/color][/i] After all, she was born under a star too, she thought. Just a [i]different[/i] one, apparently. But still. She wasn't going to just throw her weapon down. She knew she was going to lose; it was obvious from the start. But that was no reason to give up. Not until she landed at least one hit. So in response to his jibe, she flourished her glaive again, brought it to bear, and redoubled her offense. Stab, slice, sweep, strike; she wove them together into an elaborate string, striking from every angle that she could. And yet still he remained untouched. It didn't even seem possible. Her pallid face finally began to show some color: a furious flush of anger and embarrassment as he made a mockery of her in the most thorough way possible. The lightness of her weapon let her keep going past when her arms would've otherwise tired, but even then, she was starting to feel the fatigue of constant movement; she wasn't quite sure how long she'd been in the arena, but it felt like an eternity. Still, she refused to use her magic again for more than the glaive. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. With a sudden burst of speed she moved closer in; further in than spacing with a glaive would dictate in a normal fight against a swordsman. When she was nearing the range of his sword, she feinted high, then dropped low and swirled it at his legs. She was close enough now, she was pretty sure, that he couldn't just backstep it, and he'd need to jump. And she'd be there: with a final twirl, she cannoned her elbow back with all her strength. If she'd read the situation right, then she'd clock him right in the chin. And then the fight would probably end, since she was too close now, and she sincerely doubted an elbow to the chin would knock this boy down, given that her strength wasn't exactly something to write home about. But, she hoped, she could at least say she'd landed a hit on him.