Feeling his skin sear under her grip was almost as satisfying as socking him in the jaw. She was a tad disappointed, though, she had wanted to hear him scream--let<i>him</i>be the one in pain for once. The smell of cooked flesh was reward enough, though, and when she managed to pull her leg under herself and buck her spine, he was tossed off. Rather painfully, if the dull thump of flesh on ground was any indication. The moment she felt the weight leave her back, blessed air was pulled back into her lungs and she sprung to her feet, only for the world to tilt alarmingly as she surged upwards and her gut to protest the sudden movement with another wave of pain. Widening her stance and stubbornly shaking the dizziness from her skull, Aryel tightened her jaw against the ache in her muscles and forced herself to endure, dropping into a stance of readiness as her captor picked himself up again.<br/><br/>Unlike before, where his spells had healed his broken and burned jaw almost immediately, the burn she had inflicted lingered--a nice little anklet to go with the rest of his finery. That was interesting--did most of his might lie in his adornments, then? Charms were powerful tools to have, if you could afford them, or<i>take</i>them, as she suspected was the case with him. She, on the other hand, was raw and unaugmented (as much as being only half-human could be considered unaugmented, at any rate). Her pyromancy was not the result of a spell or trinket, it was as innate to her as breathing. As she faced him down, those flames licked at her fists once more, weak and flickering, but there all the same. Truth be told, she wasn't sure how much she had left in her, but she was prepared to throw everything she could at him in a final show of defiance.<br/><br/>She snorted at his quip, rolling her head from side to side to crack her neck bones. "'Playful' may not be the best word for it." 'Vengeful', maybe, or 'murderously angry'. Her wings twitched behind her shoulders, straining at their bonds from a habitual desire to work as counterbalances, just as they had in their first fight. They had been a part of her natural movement her entire life, and to try and fight with them restrained was like trying to fight with an arm tied behind her back, it just left her feeling<i>odd</i>, ever so slightly off-balance.<br/><br/>It was the best she'd get for the time being, though. When he launched himself at her, she was as ready as she could be, bringing her hands up and her shoulder down to meet his charge. She would gladly close and grapple with him, if that's what he wanted. Close-range fighting had always been her strong suit, and she was more than eager to try and land a few more punches in that smug, perfect face.<br/><br/>Rather than meet her head-on, however, he instead opted to sidestep and feint. Thinking back, she probably should have expected such conniving from him.<br/><br/>Had she been in better condition, she might have been able to react fast enough, but as it was, her previous injuries and lingering exhaustion gave him the advantage. She tried to turn and bring up her arms to block his uppercut, only for his fist to catch her in the throat, just below her jawbone. Knuckles dug painfully in the soft skin there, throwing her head backwards and almost knocking her off her feet. He had missed a direct blow on her windpipe, whether on purpose or from her attempt at dodging, but clipping it was still enough to bring an ugly wheeze up out of her lungs as she reeled back. She felt herself tipping, and stuck out a leg behind her in a desperate effort to avoid toppling over so soon after challenging him. What would have been a fall instead became a heavy, clumsy step backwards as she reached up one hand to shield her throat on reflex, the flames at her fingertips licking harmlessly against her own hide. Aryel coughed heavily, the noise suddenly cut off as his backhand rung out through the tent. In a way, the sudden sting of it against her cheek almost helped her, snapping her out of the daze his underhanded strike had inflicted on her and rekindling the embers of rage within her.<br/><br/>She swallowed with a grimace and rubbed her throat as he goaded her to get up, a growl her only answer.<i>Fine.</i>If he wanted to fight dirty, then so would she, and she could see one great big weak spot between his legs.<br/><br/>When she charged, she came in high, seemingly seeking to land another punch to his jaw. At the last moment, however, she would try to shift herself and bring her right arm down, hand still garnished with flames, to grip his shoulder in a searing vice. Using that as leverage, she would then bring her right knee up in a brutal strike, aiming to drive it straight into his family jewels. Though he likely outweighed her, she had thrown her mass forward as she attacked, intending to knock him off-balance and make her retaliation all the more forceful.