As they fell, he searched for any sign of a place to take hold – to grasp onto and hold himself from the turmoil of landing roughly on the candy grass he knew was below. His sword lay, teetering on the precipice of falling from the courtyard above, out of his reach – and he had nothing but the strength and power in his hands and arms to try and mitigate his fall. As Unaru broke away from him, speeding toward the ground at a much faster rate than Lysander intended – which meant it was exactly the speed Unaru intended. He stabbed a knife-hand at the wall, letting his fingers dig into the rock and concrete and stone – slowing his descent further until finally, barely clinging at the edge of a broken pipe, feet dangling over the edge. 

[color=ed1c24]“Goddamn, that was close.”[/color] He said to himself, looking down just in time to see a pair of emerald hands rising from the dim light below, grabbing and twisting. The force of it pulled his grip from the metal pipe and flung him across the room – his body slammed into the wall, even as the shadows of the dimly lit wall moved to soften his blow. The dust spewed out from impact, a cloud of it covering the area around him – and he fell onto his side on the floor. Grunting, he tried to push himself back up – but pain wretched his stomach into a knot, and his vision went white for a moment. 

Shaking his head, he coughed and sputtered for a second, before rolling over onto his back. [color=ed1c24]“We almost done?”[/color] He asked. [color=ed1c24]“I’m…not giving up, but I could really use a drink. This is starting to hurt a little bit, you know.”[/color] He said out loud to Unaru, who was somewhere off to his left. Pushing again, he forced his body up from the ground until he stood on his feet – face bunched up from the pain and the effort. [color=ed1c24]“I mean, we both got some good hits in. I think we just call this one a draw, and go on about our way, yeah?”[/color] He didn’t expect the other to agree to that. Unaru wasn’t one to take a draw when he saw a sign of victory. Lysander knew it, and in some ways, he counted on it. His injured right arm twisted, shadows curling around it to provide something akin to buffering against further harm, healing – and if it came down to it, an immense burst of power. His legs bending, he brought his arms up and clasped his hands into fists before him. 

[color=ed1c24]“Or we can keep this going, because momma Kaie didn’t raise no bitch.” 
[/color]