Snippet #2274058

Eiurin

There was a hum running through her mind, the pounding of her blood in her ears as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. The young woman narrowed one of her eyes, lashing falling partially over slitted, golden orbs as she observed the opponent in front of her. A smirk slid across her face as she took a step carefully to her right, her opponent circling her just as well. The woman was tall in form, slender in figure--yet the leanness of her muscles indicated she was a fighter. Her fingers twitched just slightly as her smirk widened into a crooked upturn of lips. Her opponent refused to approach her first, watching, waiting. Her opponent was a larger man, surely twice her weight and fully clad in armor. He held his polearm professionally, the grip indicating he was not new to long-range combat.

She stopped abruptly, the turn of her heels bringing up dust from the ground as she did so. The figure tensed, as if sensing the oncoming attack. The woman whistled once in amusement before trilling her fingers together. There was the faint sound of metal scrapping against metal and the man looked utterly confused. For the woman before him looked human, albeit in skimpy clothing, but a normal woman nonetheless. She shifted her weight to her left foot as she pushed forwards, taking dashing steps towards the other. He instantly raised his polearm in front of his body to fend her off but at the last moment, she bent her body backwards and slid against the ground.

He hesitated and she twitched her fingers once more before allowing the metal to rush to the surface of her skin. She could already feel the bones in her hand shifting, altering, the skin becoming sleeker and smoother. Her hand morphed into a metallic claw and she swiped upwards, cutting into the side of his calf through the gap in his armor. The man let out a yell of pain but this did not deter him from spinning his weapon around in an attempt to connect with her body. The woman flashed him a sly grin as she allowed the weapon to nick the side of her arm, all for sport of course. These dim-witted people didn't seem the type to be entertained by a purely, one-sided fight.

The man drew false confidence out of this and drew his weapon back to thrust it forwards in an attempted jab to her stomach. She leaned back before she could be hit and grabbed on to the end of the weapon with her claws. With a malicious light in her eyes, she dug her claws into the metal, her clawed fingers instantly melding into the steel with ease. The man tried to rear back and pull his weapon away from her but she held on tighter and the weapon fell out of his grip. He swore, probably trying to re-evaluate his strategy on how best to attack her while she held his weapon. The metal that was touching her claws began to melt away and was absorbed into them, the man's eyes widening in horror.

Dropping the polearm, which was now just a stick, the woman eyed him through her mismatched eyes--one narrower than the other in an unsettling type of way. Giving a short laugh and a shrug of her shoulders, she winked at him before darting towards him once more. In a desperate attempt at defense, the man grabbed the partially useless polearm and fended off her blows, her claws razing against the stick with a ferocious velocity. She was intentionally not grinding it to bits, which she could've done long ago--she had to make this look good to ensure her victory was a success and not simply a "win". The man's eyes darted from his weapon to her claws and he turned over the longer stick in his hands and flicked it upwards. This actually caught her by surprise and it hit her right beneath her chin, the force of the blow enough to make her stagger backwards a few steps.

Her eyes flashed as her annoyance at him grew. Well, playing nice had just gone out the window. This little piece of shit thought he could hit her and she would take it kindly? Oh no.

A wicked gleam entered her eyes and she tilted her head to the side, jumping back several feet. The metal was already running through her body to her shoulder blades and the bones mutated as the metal slid out from under her skin. The crowd cheered louder as there was a slight ripping noise--an unfortunate section of her top had been snagged by the sharp edges of her wings as they protruded outwards and had been able to stay intact. The man trembled, ah yes, that look someone got when they realized that attempted resistance would be futile. She smirked cruelly as she spread out her wings and, with the darkest of sweet smiles, she flapped them once--small, metal blades coming out from the ends of her wings and penetrating through his armor with ease and into his flesh.

The man screamed but she quickly silenced him with one more blade straight through his throat, the yells turning gurgled. He gaped upwards for several more seconds before his body limply fell forward, already dead before he hit the ground. Wiping just a slight coating of perspiration from her forehead, the woman looked up as the trumpets blared to signify the end of the match. The crowds yells were thunderous and the girl merely raised an eyebrow. Funny how the people here seemed to worship carnage so. The announcer for the match looked nervous as he wandered into the large arena she had been battling in, stepping around the body and holding what appeared to be something she had heard was called a "microphone".

"A-And that brings us to the conclusion of the match! This newcomer surely doesn't mess around... It seems the young Princess Ignivicarian VI has chosen a lovely champion! But... ah, it seems your name isn't written down here, Miss ah... Miss..." She grabbed whatever this stupid device was from him and spoke into it clearly.

"It's--"

===============================================================================

===============================================================================

Liandre

The young princess had been sitting on the edge of her seat, biting her lower lip as she gazed down at the events. As she had predicted, the white-haired woman was certainly lethal in battle. Such prowess would work well in the future, though it made her nervous to watch. As a rule, the royal did not attend these events for she found the carnage rather unnecessary. But this woman was her champion, her chosen guardian--and as the sponsor of such a woman, it was the princess' responsibility to oversee the events. Even if the sight of blood made her squeamish...

But when the woman grabbed the mic from the announcer, Liandre immediately went on high alert and stood up in her seat quickly. She couldn't let any of the others know about her guardian's name--the steambots would use that information to figure out that....! "S-Stop!" She called from her seat high above the arena, having stood up in her excitement. The shrill voice of protest echoed through the stadium and it seemed at once, the people had silenced down in surprise. She blinked, aware that she was being eyed by the king and the other royals who were attending the event. She cleared her throat anxiously.

"I-I mean, she does not have a name. The Metal Champion should work just fine." She tried to say firmly as her gaze slipped down to her feet. She had allowed her excitement to get the best of her and now her shyness was increasing. The announcer fumbled and tried to take the mic back, but not before the woman got her two cents in.

"Yeah, Metal Champion. Whatever, fucking posh idjits. Glad you enjoyed the blood, prin~cess~" The girl ended sarcastically before shoving the mic back in the announcer's hands and sauntering to the arena's exit. Liandre peeked upwards to see the woman being escorted between two of the steambot guards that were stationed by the exit. She sighed in relief; thank goodness that catastrophe had been aver--huh? Right before the woman was taken away, she raised up her middle finger in a rather offensive gesture. The sight made Liandre blush as she sat back down slowly, blue locks tumbled over her lap.

The king cleared his throat, giving a flick of the wrist. "Don't just stand there like an idiot, bring the next one in." He said with a dismissive voice. Liandre tensed a bit as she thought of the coming match. Those poor chosen, forced into the arena like mere fodder... There was not a part of the Battle Royale that struck her as entertaining or charming in the least--the very idea made her cringe. But hopefully, so long as her companion didn't stray too far from the plan, she'd be able to save the survivors by the day's end... Hopefully...

She looked down at her lap again, taking out the small mirror she always kept on her person. 'Oh Eiurin... please come through for me.' She thought wistfully as she stared at the object. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of gold and a slitted iris reflected back at her; the moment passing too quickly for her to evaluate. Before she could disconcert whether or not it had her imagination, she received her confirmation as a sarcastic voice filled her mind.

'I know, dumbass nymph.' Liandre gave a tremulous smile at the nickname. The connection vanished as the other must've severed it but the princess felt more reassured. Maybe the plan might be a success after all.