Cyril’s whole world spun, and for a moment it felt like he’d been flipped rather than simply dropped. Camille had taught him early on that if you’re gonna fall, fall correct, or you could do more damage to yourself than whatever had hit you. So he crumpled, and then when he came close to the mat he rolled onto his back and slapped himself down. It sounded much worse than it was, but he still took a second to lay there while his vision refocused. 

“[color=caffbf][i]Mon dieu,[/i][/color]” he wheezed, spitting his mouthguard out onto his hand. Look at that, a little trauma knocked the Casobani back into him, their parents would be proud. He propped himself up on his elbows and held up his palms in surrender, in case she came in for a finisher. “[color=caffbf]Felt like you had a metal bat strapped to your leg.[/color]”

“[color=55cbcd]Camille warned you,[/color]” Sybil said, though she seemed a bit shaken herself. “[color=55cbcd]She trains with [i]Dragon[/i], what’d you think was gonna happen?[/color]”

Cyril got back up to his feet and shook himself off. Truthfully, he hadn’t known what to expect. Obviously Quinnlash was an experienced combatant, in her Savior, but he’d found that to be a poor benchmark. Being in a Savior felt [i]powerful[/i], immensely so, but it was different face-to-face. He supposed he’d expected it to be the same for her; not weaker, per se, but different. Evidently that was not the case—Quinnlash was exactly as fierce out of the cockpit. 

“[color=caffbf]Well, that’s me for the moment,[/color]” he said, peeling off his helmet and tossing it at Sybil. “[color=caffbf]Your turn![/color]”

“[color=55cbcd]Uh…[/color]” Sybil looked between, to Cyril, to the helmet, then to Quinn. “[color=55cbcd]Pass.[/color]”

“[color=caffbf]No. No pass. Do you know what happens if Camille hears we called out just to ditch? I'd rather spend all day getting kicked in the head, thank you. Besides, this is a fantastic opportunity! She’s our teammate, we get to learn from [i]Ablaze[/i]![/color]”

Cyril hopped over to her, taking her by the hands and pulling up. Sybil groaned reluctantly, but eventually resigned and put on the helmet, along with the rest of the pads from the basket. When she was finished, she made her way onto the mat, popping the mouthguard in, and raising her hands. She seemed to be trying to mimic Cyril’s stance, but there was something off about it. Was she shifting her weight strangely? Holding her hands too low? Too high? Perhaps she was facing flat forward for a reason. 

“[color=caffbf]Watch her legs![/color]”

Sybil did, eyes darting down to Quinn’s feet briefly before they shot back up to her face. Rather than wait at the start as Cyril had, she elected for a different strategy and rushed Quinn right away. There was a nervous, inaccurate energy to her movements, and she came out with a wildly wide haymaker aimed to take Quinn somewhere between her head and her shoulder.