Location: Ruined City
"Friends?" Syd smiled; evidently he was in a good mood after feeding, "with benefits I hope,"
"You look so adorable trying to 'protect' my pet, even though you protect her from the wrong person."
Morgen rolled her eyes slightly, shifted a little in position. "Who else should I be 'protecting' her from, then? I believe that the only person I see here that would mean harm to her is you, whether she wants it or not."
Syd started to twirl his machete, flamboyantly, the swish of metal cutting through air audible.
"not against her will you say? She wasn't resisting as I cut her wrist, nor as I drank," that tone he used when he was trying to be sarcastic, she noted; "but fate seems to want me to throw out all my rules today, not that it wasn't worth it." he took another step towards her.
"Maybe that was because she /couldn't/ prevent you from cutting her wrist with your machete and drinking from her because...you seem to forget that she is merely human, and that you are stronger than her physically." Morgen took a few steps to her right, circling him warily.
With an unexpected movement, Syd closed the distance between them, swinging his machete, taking advantage of the element of surprise. "Tch," Morgen's eyes widened, and she hissed, reflexes automatically raising her katana to block it, but she still stumbled back a few steps. Damn, the Sym was stronger after a drink...
Syd continued slashing, merely testing her. These she blocked easily, metal clashing against metal. Then he appeared to want to use brute force, as if something angered him. "Trying to turn this into a common alley brawl...? I won't let you," she thought, blocking more fiercely than ever. She could go on doing this all night.
He left an opening, and she took it, swinging the blade downwards, aiming for his right shoulder. Syd leaped back, denying her the satisfaction of drawing first blood.
He smiled, comfortable again."Ah, such grace, such elegance, such cultivation. Your skill is only matched by the delicacy of your skin," he circled her, stalking her every move. "Now, let's get a bit serious shall we?"
Morgen allowed him to charge forth, wildly swinging his machete, and then sidestepped easily, slipping into his mind. In this illusion, he'd sliced her apart, and blood gleamed wetly on her front, soaking into her kimono top, turning white silk crimson.
"I won't waste my energy if I don't need to. And I'll spare him the pain of attacking his mind again." still holding her katana, she stayed to the side, where she fathomed up more illusions, each one more gruesome then the last; because they were, after all, illusions.