[RADELLA!] TNT, WE'RE DYNAMITE!

[SHAUN MITCHEL DAMON]

*- -Fury was an emotion that Shaun was well-aquainted with, and the one that he used the most. He didn't like to outwardly display emotions, but this was one that he didn't have a problem with. He had been angry, although it wasn't directly at anybody. Brielle was the one that usually got the brunt of his anger, the one that he got angry with. She was there, and if he slapped her around she couldn't do anything about it because she belonged to him. He could misuse and abuse her all he wanted. But he didn't today. Yeah, he had been short with her, threatened her a bit, but he had left after gathering his armor and sword. He needed to do something to vent a little, get some of his anger out. He figured that he would just go for the fields and spar a little with whoever was there. He was vicious in sparring, known as one of the best. He spent a lot of time practicing, to the point that it was nearly an obsession. Skill came from practice, after all. All that 'luck' stuff, or 'talent' was pure bullshit. It was all through hard work.

*- -He swung his weighty sword around, getting the feel of it. It felt so natural in his hand, like an extention of himself. He had first decided he wanted to be a knight when he was thirteen, and since then he had practiced day and night. He wasn't the most chivalrous, brave or kind, but a knight had always been idyllic for him. It was the violence that appealed to him the most. Hurting somebody else and watching them squirm, it delighted him. Call him sick, he already knew. Yes, it was weird and wrong that watching somebody else hurt brought him such euphoria, but he didn't give a fuck. He could do what he fucking wanted, and his ability to hurt others without a second thought about it was what made him such a good knight. He was cruel and swift, footwork ingrained in him from years of practice. Half of it was automatic. He swung, parried brought it back to cover himself and then out again to strike. He was violent and aggressive, he sparred hard. He didn't go lightly. He went full out, which is purposely why he only sparred with high-ranking knights. Didn't want to go killing the freshies.

*- -His annoyance built hot inside him and he wanted to release on someone, anyone...so he took on the first knight he found in the sparring area. Dressed in full armor, it wasn't long before the comforting and familiar sound of clashing metal filled the air and he took out his aggression. He was vicious, moving quickly and landing blow after blow on the other. He took a hit once in a while, but he was dominating, attacking the male with all the power and force that he had. He hit hard enough to dent the metal, send his sword clanging off. Just as soon as it bounced back, he swung it again and made hard contact. He didn't play around. When he played, people got hurt. He was sure the other was feeling the sting of his weighted swings, and he purposely dealt another to his hip. A flush of satisfaction crept up his chest and face as he saw the pained look. That was what he was looking for. The pain, the sign of being totally beaten. It was just what he wanted.

*- -His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as he brought the sword down again and again, hitting all the sweet spots with a satisfying clash. It made him feel so powerful, ebbed away the feelings of fury that had been building in his gut. He brought it down on his chest, his arms, used a hard side swing to knock him down on the ground. He didn't stop, bringing the sword down hard. He stopped before it hit the armor, stopping so the point dangled an inch or so above the other's heart. "You're dead," He answered bluntly, turned around and sheathed his sword. Leaving the other man laying flat on the ground. Grumbling darkly to himself, he moved to a bench, wiping the slight sheen of sweat fron his forehead. It was hot in the armor. He stretched, unlaced and pulled off the top part of the armor and the shirt underneath, leaving him bare-chested. His chest glistened with sweat as well, intensifying the color of his tattoos. He stretched his muscular shoulders, rubbing the hurt out of them from lack of use over the night. That was better. That felt good.

words, 801
status, completee
tagged, radella
notes, wow this post took a lifetime.

[RADELLA SYLPH RYME !]

radella ryme was bored. it was almost unbearable, because she was lying flat out on her back in the middle of nowhere murmuring curses to butterflies. thats how terribly bored she was. and it didn't get much worse than that. but, of course, she had to do something, and so she traveled in the northward direction, ambling and swinging her bloody chain around in the air, getting the feel of it in her hand. she'd used it recently, and the blood from her last victim still rotted away the metal. she didn't get a chance to remove it yet, and it had become handy in her whole, 'fear me, i'm sadistic' thing. but the sounds of battle drew her like a fly to a wound, and soon she was sprinting across many a joyous - not really - field and slowed down about forty yards away from the atra battling field. the large expanse of flat, even land was dominated by a huge guy pounding on this other, considerably smaller guy, the big one scoring hit after hit. she crossed her arms over her chest, cocked her head, narrowed her eyes as she watched him. he seemed almost cocky as he did it, but his moves were skilled and percise with the sword. too bad she couldn't see him through the armor.

but soon enough it was over, and he had pinned the other with his sword at the man's heart. big boy walked over to a bench to cool off. he then proceeded to get half naked, and rad cocked an eyebrow. the man was covered in ink. it was no or never, because the guy was surely going to go back into battle.

but as rad got closer, she recognized him almost immediately. it was that shaun kid, who terribly abused his slave-girl. rad snorted into her palm, because it seemed like only fate would take probably the most wicked atra and the most abusive one and plant them in the same place at the same time. squaring her shoulders, she continued her purposeful walk forward, and soon she was standing beside the bench, angling her body towards him.

gawd, you're sweaty. showers much? she then proceeded to plop down on the bench beside him and watch as his former opponent struggled to get up from the grass. her expression was cruel, nothing but vile emotions expressed on her beautiful face. she tucked a brown curl behind her ear and threw her bloodied chain at her feet so she could get a good view of the fallen knight properly. who's that? i have a sudden urge to punch him. she cocked her head, giving a slightly quizzical look. never once did she look at shaun since she sat down. her game of wills had begun.