The slighter of the two blond men was the next to move, and when he did, his form wavered and shimmered with light, splitting him into three. One of the clones went each to Erys and Morgan, drawing a hand spear from his belt as he did so. When they spoke, it was in unison. “We are Jormungandr. It's so very nice to meet you, Morgan Alistair and Erys Kuragari." They wore matching smiles, bright but oddly detached, as though they did not belong on the faces they occupied.
Morgan turned slowly, so that he was facing the blonde man, and his back was to Erys. His lips curled into a silent snarl. The scent of his sister's blood assaulted his nose, but there was little he could do about that right now. His ruby eyes flickered to three copies of the man. He was not in the mood for games, and this guy seemed rather intent on playing with them.
He pulled out three of his own knives, one fitted between each of his fingers. The blades crackled with the energy he charged them with. With a swift movement, he threw them, each one aimed for one of Jormungandr's heads. He had little doubt the man would either dodge them or block them, he wasn't stupid enough to think otherwise. But there was little he could plan if he knew nothing about his opponent.
Erys recovered quickly at the sudden tackle to the side. She had been glued to her spot when Ava had tried to attack her, but all Erys could do was look on with sad eyes. Her friend was someone she did not recognize, even if it was Ava, it wasn't Ava. She turned to face the one who called himself Jormungandr. He split himself into three copies, all smiling as though there was nothing to smile about. Erys narrowed her eyes as she removed Ulrik from the hitch at her back. She flicked it, releasing its blade form in the process. She was angry, and she needed to take her anger out on something. Pure-blood or not, Erys wasn't going to back down from this fight.
"The feelings are not mutual. I care not who you are," Erys retorted, not hiding the anger in her voice as she spoke. She turned so that she was fully facing the strange man and pointed Ulrik at him. "All that matters to me is that you are one responsible for what happened to my friend, whether or not it was directly or indirectly. You will pay for it," she stated, charging one of the copies as Morgan threw his knives as well. She brought Ulrik down, aiming for the man's chest in the process.
Jormungandr only smiled wider, each of the copies’ hand-spears deflecting the thrown knives in perfect symmetry. The advantage of information was definitely his—he had done his research beforehand, and that was why he’d picked these two to fight. Well, that and because he’d rather expected certain other match-ups to occur the way they had. There was just no keeping Fenrir from trying out his new toy on the von Nacht heir, after all. “I look forward to seeing your retribution, dear,” he told Erys, and the copy that she engaged with locked the shaft of the hand-spear with the sword, turning it so that the gun part of the gun-blade would fire over his shoulder if the trigger was depressed.
He lashed out with a deceptive quickness, attempting to hook one of his legs around the backs of her knees and sweep her footing out from underneath her. The second copy flicked the fingers of his free hand, a mote of light issuing from each and forming into a dagger-shape. “Your turn, Mr. Alistair. Do you dance?” The daggers launched one by one, only on a slight delay, and seemed to anticipate the most likely dodge trajectories. Each one also had the unfortunate effect of exploding on contact, either doing additional damage or kicking up a bit of dust and debris by hitting the ground.
Morgan paid little attention to Erys. If anything, he knew she could at least defend herself. He was not at all surprised by the man deflecting his attack, enough so that when they exploded, they were far enough away they did little damage. Morgan ducked to dodge the first knife thrown at him, and didn't even flinch when it exploded. It did surprise him, he just didn't let it show. True to his aim, Jor's second knife was headed straight for Morgan, but instead of dodging, Morgan caught it. The blade also did not explode. He had nullified it with his own ability, and he then threw it back. Blade and blade collided in mid-air, the combined energy exploding with more force than that of one alone. Morgan scowled at the man. "As a matter of fact, I do dance...but not with the likes of you."
Erys glared harshly at the man as he blocked her attack, locking their weapons together and forcing it to face the other way as she pulled the trigger. The bullet missed, lodging itself in a part of the building as she felt his leg hook behind hers. Her eyes widened slightly as he tripped her, causing her to fall backwards, but she managed to catch herself somewhat. Twisting so that she could regain her footing, she kept her gaze fixed on her copy. She wasn't prepared for how quick he would be, and she wasn't quite sure she could match him. She released a sharp breath before pointing Ulrik at him. She wouldn't be able to attack him at a close distance, so she had to resort to a further distance. Closing one eye, she aimed Ulrik at him and fired.
Morgan’s sass only caused Jormungandr to throw back his head and laugh. Well, the real one did, anyway. The copy just grinned a little wider, the expression taking on a slightly-manic edge. In his free hand, he conjured a shortsword to compliment his and spear, this one comprised entirely of light, and then he was suddenly in Morgan’s face, lashing out with both weapons several times in quick succession. “Clever boy,” he said, “but I wonder how long you’ll survive with such a clever tongue, hm?”
Erys’s Jormungandr cocked his head to the side in amusement when the girl retreated, allowing her to do so mostly because he was curious as to what she would do. When the gun fired, his hand snapped up, and much like Morgan had earlier, he caught the projectile aimed for him, the bullet smoking between his index and middle fingers. “Tsk, tsk, my dear. Such a temper. You should learn to have a little more fun.” The last word fractured and reverberated a little as the light around him bent and twisted, rendering him entirely invisible. Being a clone made of light, he also had no scent, and made not a sound… not until it was too late, anyway. His hand-spear suddenly appeared, along with the clone itself, right behind Erys, the weapon aimed squarely for the center of her back.
Morgan was prepared for Jormungandr's speed, he'd seen it already. What he was not prepared for was the fact that he could yet again smell Nikki's blood. There was more of it this time, a lot more. Too much. was the thought that flickered through his head. It was enough of a distraction to allow his opponent to land more than a few hits. Morgan skidded away from Jor, clapping a hand over his right ear, half of which was missing. He snarled, blood leaking from several shallow cuts on his body. He'd lost track how much blood he'd lost.
Erys clicked her tongue in annoyance as the man caught the bullet. Her eyes hardened when he spoke, saying she should have more fun. She wasn't here to have fun. She was here to destroy the beings who took Ava from her, from Vincent, and she wouldn't stop until they were nothing but broken shards of glass and dust. She, however, did not count for Jormungandr to disappear. Her eyes widened a fraction as her head snapped in every direction. She place Ulrik in front of her, however; it was too late when she smelled him. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes widened in fear as his hand-spear aimed for her the center of her back.
Blood coated the air, mixing with the other scents of blood as Erys choked out a cough. She had twisted herself enough so that his spear had pierced the side of her back instead of the center, however; the wound was still deep and still just as effective. She glanced down and noticed it peeking through from just underneath her rib-cage. He had missed her heart at least, however; she was losing blood, and fast.
For the second time, Morgan found himself distracted by the scent of blood. This time, however, his eyes glowed. This time, he reacted to it without thinking. This time, he was truly angry. Morgan moved faster than he had been before, and with a swipe of his clawed hand, he cleaved the clone's head from its shoulders. The rest of it, spear included, seemed to flicker and then vanish altogether. Morgan caught Erys as she collapsed, his lips pulling back in a vehement snarl, fangs gleaming whiter than his eyes were red.
The original Jormungandr and the remaining clone both raised a single eyebrow, smirking. If he was at all concerned about the fact that one of his clones had been destroyed, he was not showing it. “Ah, so it is true. How darling.” He shifted for a moment, and the other clone shimmered and ceased to exist. He could sense the incoming presences, and knew that unfortunately, the time for amusement was at an end. How he would have preferred to finish what he started, but alas, good drama was not sustained with such quick deaths. The tension must linger even after he was gone.
“Well, it’s been fun,” he said lightly, “but unless your cousin is a fool, it’s time to move on to more serious matters…”
Morgan turned slowly, so that he was facing the blonde man, and his back was to Erys. His lips curled into a silent snarl. The scent of his sister's blood assaulted his nose, but there was little he could do about that right now. His ruby eyes flickered to three copies of the man. He was not in the mood for games, and this guy seemed rather intent on playing with them.
He pulled out three of his own knives, one fitted between each of his fingers. The blades crackled with the energy he charged them with. With a swift movement, he threw them, each one aimed for one of Jormungandr's heads. He had little doubt the man would either dodge them or block them, he wasn't stupid enough to think otherwise. But there was little he could plan if he knew nothing about his opponent.
Erys recovered quickly at the sudden tackle to the side. She had been glued to her spot when Ava had tried to attack her, but all Erys could do was look on with sad eyes. Her friend was someone she did not recognize, even if it was Ava, it wasn't Ava. She turned to face the one who called himself Jormungandr. He split himself into three copies, all smiling as though there was nothing to smile about. Erys narrowed her eyes as she removed Ulrik from the hitch at her back. She flicked it, releasing its blade form in the process. She was angry, and she needed to take her anger out on something. Pure-blood or not, Erys wasn't going to back down from this fight.
"The feelings are not mutual. I care not who you are," Erys retorted, not hiding the anger in her voice as she spoke. She turned so that she was fully facing the strange man and pointed Ulrik at him. "All that matters to me is that you are one responsible for what happened to my friend, whether or not it was directly or indirectly. You will pay for it," she stated, charging one of the copies as Morgan threw his knives as well. She brought Ulrik down, aiming for the man's chest in the process.
Jormungandr only smiled wider, each of the copies’ hand-spears deflecting the thrown knives in perfect symmetry. The advantage of information was definitely his—he had done his research beforehand, and that was why he’d picked these two to fight. Well, that and because he’d rather expected certain other match-ups to occur the way they had. There was just no keeping Fenrir from trying out his new toy on the von Nacht heir, after all. “I look forward to seeing your retribution, dear,” he told Erys, and the copy that she engaged with locked the shaft of the hand-spear with the sword, turning it so that the gun part of the gun-blade would fire over his shoulder if the trigger was depressed.
He lashed out with a deceptive quickness, attempting to hook one of his legs around the backs of her knees and sweep her footing out from underneath her. The second copy flicked the fingers of his free hand, a mote of light issuing from each and forming into a dagger-shape. “Your turn, Mr. Alistair. Do you dance?” The daggers launched one by one, only on a slight delay, and seemed to anticipate the most likely dodge trajectories. Each one also had the unfortunate effect of exploding on contact, either doing additional damage or kicking up a bit of dust and debris by hitting the ground.
Morgan paid little attention to Erys. If anything, he knew she could at least defend herself. He was not at all surprised by the man deflecting his attack, enough so that when they exploded, they were far enough away they did little damage. Morgan ducked to dodge the first knife thrown at him, and didn't even flinch when it exploded. It did surprise him, he just didn't let it show. True to his aim, Jor's second knife was headed straight for Morgan, but instead of dodging, Morgan caught it. The blade also did not explode. He had nullified it with his own ability, and he then threw it back. Blade and blade collided in mid-air, the combined energy exploding with more force than that of one alone. Morgan scowled at the man. "As a matter of fact, I do dance...but not with the likes of you."
Erys glared harshly at the man as he blocked her attack, locking their weapons together and forcing it to face the other way as she pulled the trigger. The bullet missed, lodging itself in a part of the building as she felt his leg hook behind hers. Her eyes widened slightly as he tripped her, causing her to fall backwards, but she managed to catch herself somewhat. Twisting so that she could regain her footing, she kept her gaze fixed on her copy. She wasn't prepared for how quick he would be, and she wasn't quite sure she could match him. She released a sharp breath before pointing Ulrik at him. She wouldn't be able to attack him at a close distance, so she had to resort to a further distance. Closing one eye, she aimed Ulrik at him and fired.
Morgan’s sass only caused Jormungandr to throw back his head and laugh. Well, the real one did, anyway. The copy just grinned a little wider, the expression taking on a slightly-manic edge. In his free hand, he conjured a shortsword to compliment his and spear, this one comprised entirely of light, and then he was suddenly in Morgan’s face, lashing out with both weapons several times in quick succession. “Clever boy,” he said, “but I wonder how long you’ll survive with such a clever tongue, hm?”
Erys’s Jormungandr cocked his head to the side in amusement when the girl retreated, allowing her to do so mostly because he was curious as to what she would do. When the gun fired, his hand snapped up, and much like Morgan had earlier, he caught the projectile aimed for him, the bullet smoking between his index and middle fingers. “Tsk, tsk, my dear. Such a temper. You should learn to have a little more fun.” The last word fractured and reverberated a little as the light around him bent and twisted, rendering him entirely invisible. Being a clone made of light, he also had no scent, and made not a sound… not until it was too late, anyway. His hand-spear suddenly appeared, along with the clone itself, right behind Erys, the weapon aimed squarely for the center of her back.
Morgan was prepared for Jormungandr's speed, he'd seen it already. What he was not prepared for was the fact that he could yet again smell Nikki's blood. There was more of it this time, a lot more. Too much. was the thought that flickered through his head. It was enough of a distraction to allow his opponent to land more than a few hits. Morgan skidded away from Jor, clapping a hand over his right ear, half of which was missing. He snarled, blood leaking from several shallow cuts on his body. He'd lost track how much blood he'd lost.
Erys clicked her tongue in annoyance as the man caught the bullet. Her eyes hardened when he spoke, saying she should have more fun. She wasn't here to have fun. She was here to destroy the beings who took Ava from her, from Vincent, and she wouldn't stop until they were nothing but broken shards of glass and dust. She, however, did not count for Jormungandr to disappear. Her eyes widened a fraction as her head snapped in every direction. She place Ulrik in front of her, however; it was too late when she smelled him. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes widened in fear as his hand-spear aimed for her the center of her back.
Blood coated the air, mixing with the other scents of blood as Erys choked out a cough. She had twisted herself enough so that his spear had pierced the side of her back instead of the center, however; the wound was still deep and still just as effective. She glanced down and noticed it peeking through from just underneath her rib-cage. He had missed her heart at least, however; she was losing blood, and fast.
For the second time, Morgan found himself distracted by the scent of blood. This time, however, his eyes glowed. This time, he reacted to it without thinking. This time, he was truly angry. Morgan moved faster than he had been before, and with a swipe of his clawed hand, he cleaved the clone's head from its shoulders. The rest of it, spear included, seemed to flicker and then vanish altogether. Morgan caught Erys as she collapsed, his lips pulling back in a vehement snarl, fangs gleaming whiter than his eyes were red.
The original Jormungandr and the remaining clone both raised a single eyebrow, smirking. If he was at all concerned about the fact that one of his clones had been destroyed, he was not showing it. “Ah, so it is true. How darling.” He shifted for a moment, and the other clone shimmered and ceased to exist. He could sense the incoming presences, and knew that unfortunately, the time for amusement was at an end. How he would have preferred to finish what he started, but alas, good drama was not sustained with such quick deaths. The tension must linger even after he was gone.
“Well, it’s been fun,” he said lightly, “but unless your cousin is a fool, it’s time to move on to more serious matters…”