[ Gray is genuinely putting her all into her offensive; even if Mordred is handicapping herself by withholding her abilities, she's still a Servant and Gray won't forget it. So when Mordred begins to goad her, Gray takes it to heart. The roar of Mordred's voice penetrates her chest, putting a flame to her heart even as her expression grows steelier.
She isn't clever enough for mid-battle repartees, so she leaves Mordred's question unanswered. Instead she falls into a familiar trance of ringing steel and harsh impact. Her doubts and insecurities have long fled the stage, giving way to single-minded survival. As Mordred throws Clarent aside, Gray wastes no time trying to take advantage of that brief moment of vulnerability, uninterested in stopping to see what trick Mordred might be up to. Her scythe gets as far as biting into Mordred's shoulder before its trajectory is wrenched to a halt by Mordred's grip.
Gray's jaw clenches hard, her eyes finding Mordred's wild look over the shaft of her weapon. She knows immediately that she won't win any contest of raw strength, so she'll need to make speed her advantage. She pushes forward to try and headbutt Mordred sharply, an effort to loosen Mordred's grip. ]
[ By any standard, Mordred's head is hard. But, by the same measure, Gray's head is equally as hard, and she has striker's advantage.
With an audible crack, the skin in the middle of Mordred's forehead splits open. Blood starts to trickle down into her eyes; vision blurring into a literal red haze. Pain-wise, it's nothing compared to the scythe buried in her shoulder, but it's distracting, and that's what counts. It's certainly enough to loosen her grip like Gray wanted. ]
Damn... you...! [ Gritting her teeth, Mordred swings a wild uppercut at Gray's chin, before wobbling once, twice, and dropping to her knees. Her left arm hanging limp and useless, she gropes in the dirt for Clarent, fury radiating off her in violent, practically tangible waves. Though she's threatened to kill Gray multiple times today alone, this is the first time it feels like she honestly might carry through with it, if she gets the chance to regain her feet and weapon. ]
[ Mordred's fist connects with Gray's jaw with a muted crack, and Gray tastes blood as she staggers a step backward. When she blinks past the stars, she sees Mordred on the ground, reaching for Clarent.
She should take advantage of Mordred's position and strike while the knight is low and unsteady with her weapon. If Mordred were a simple ghost, Gray would be ruthless about eliminating her. A fight for survival: that was Sir Kay's condition for approval with regards to Rhongomyniad, and Mordred's malice would seem to make this such a fight. Suitably, Gray's motivation for learning to fight was also survival.
But it isn't her motivation this time, and Mordred isn't a simple ghost. This is a battle for worthiness. She won't have Mordred coming out of this complaining about Add making it easy. Gray flings her scythe down, its wicked point biting into the earth so that its shaft juts upward. She abandons it to launch herself at Mordred with a tackle that hopes to roll her away from Clarent, fists flying in a less than precise manner to sock at that all-too-familiar face. ]
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She isn't clever enough for mid-battle repartees, so she leaves Mordred's question unanswered. Instead she falls into a familiar trance of ringing steel and harsh impact. Her doubts and insecurities have long fled the stage, giving way to single-minded survival. As Mordred throws Clarent aside, Gray wastes no time trying to take advantage of that brief moment of vulnerability, uninterested in stopping to see what trick Mordred might be up to. Her scythe gets as far as biting into Mordred's shoulder before its trajectory is wrenched to a halt by Mordred's grip.
Gray's jaw clenches hard, her eyes finding Mordred's wild look over the shaft of her weapon. She knows immediately that she won't win any contest of raw strength, so she'll need to make speed her advantage. She pushes forward to try and headbutt Mordred sharply, an effort to loosen Mordred's grip. ]
no subject
With an audible crack, the skin in the middle of Mordred's forehead splits open. Blood starts to trickle down into her eyes; vision blurring into a literal red haze. Pain-wise, it's nothing compared to the scythe buried in her shoulder, but it's distracting, and that's what counts. It's certainly enough to loosen her grip like Gray wanted. ]
Damn... you...! [ Gritting her teeth, Mordred swings a wild uppercut at Gray's chin, before wobbling once, twice, and dropping to her knees. Her left arm hanging limp and useless, she gropes in the dirt for Clarent, fury radiating off her in violent, practically tangible waves. Though she's threatened to kill Gray multiple times today alone, this is the first time it feels like she honestly might carry through with it, if she gets the chance to regain her feet and weapon. ]
no subject
She should take advantage of Mordred's position and strike while the knight is low and unsteady with her weapon. If Mordred were a simple ghost, Gray would be ruthless about eliminating her. A fight for survival: that was Sir Kay's condition for approval with regards to Rhongomyniad, and Mordred's malice would seem to make this such a fight. Suitably, Gray's motivation for learning to fight was also survival.
But it isn't her motivation this time, and Mordred isn't a simple ghost. This is a battle for worthiness. She won't have Mordred coming out of this complaining about Add making it easy. Gray flings her scythe down, its wicked point biting into the earth so that its shaft juts upward. She abandons it to launch herself at Mordred with a tackle that hopes to roll her away from Clarent, fists flying in a less than precise manner to sock at that all-too-familiar face. ]