She had been surprised by the intercepting blade, magicked out from the end of his handle. It was a good trick, but as defensive spells go, it couldn't really stop her in her tracks for long. She went on with trying to access his intestines from the pristine skin of his abdomen, which eventually let him feel the undoing of the cartilage of her nose against his knuckles. By no measure was the blow deadly, but its reward swelled when he was able to combine it with the indignant tugging of her horn and then a well aimed - if he may think so - knee. It was good to feel her chest give for the cap of his bent leg.<br/><br/>He smiled in accomplishment when she commented on his feigning prowess. "Yes. Yes, I am. Leaders aught to be." which was a critique on her own position. Unfair perhaps, because she was also here out of a plan to mislead or at least misdirect him. Honestly, Aryel was a decent general, given her circumstances. He'd not given her many options but martyrdom. She was plenty engaged now, with her anger roused. Adrenaline does well to drown out the dire of most situations. He like her feral. It would be such a waste to take a break from following her group if she wasn't worth his efforts.<br/><br/>She wore an even better expression for him when he performed the trick of his melting blade, which procured its tip at the center of her throat. She waited for the opening of her airways, such tightly squeezed eyes, and almost looked disappointed when she looked at him again, with as many breathing holes as before. Cheater? "Oh, did you expect me to be some kind of gentleman to you, Aryel?" he asked. His men howled with amusement in the background. "Pluck you wild flowers. Fuck you under the silver trees, maybe? We can still do that, you know." he teased and looked her over as though considering it.<br/><br/>His brow raised when she let her sword fall. That kind of submission has its own eroticism. His ego might even have let him assume it was for the little suggestion he'd entertained his troops with. It wouldn't be the first time they'd watched their master have at his spoils so soon after victory. Submission is an aphrodisiac. How many maidens of pillaged places still blushed and reciprocated with their hips? A sobering reality burnt and bludgeoned his face, instead.<br/><br/>He was mute and dumb in the air, mouth rendered open from the ruthless ram of a fist as he slid and rolled on the sand, his body jumping twice to leave its terrestrial path to do a few arches in the air. His men cheered merrily at the gruesome treatment of their commander. Arrogance came back to the still body before the first thought, even. He stood through the dust while his eyes rolled back into place, and the smoke of the healing spell knitted the burn skin of his cheek back to its former perfection. A hearty glob of blood rolled off his lower lip, the crimson string remained unbroken until it had stretched most of the way to the ground before it shattered into suspended droplets and collided into a fat puddle.<br/><br/>He smile widely as he muscled his jaw back in place with his free palm. The colors of his eyes were vivid then, through the cloud of dirt that was already starting to lay down. He ran at her, bloody-mouthed and enamored. His sword hand squeezed the handle as the metal of the blade swirled to dress his forearm and fist instead, making a small silver tiger's head of his hand - a dangerous ram in itself. He swung the stiff glove at her face from high. He hoped she'd avoid it somehow.<br/><br/>And then, if she didn't let it touch her, his other, naked fist would seek her out from below, visiting her diaphragm again, since it should still be sore after his knee. He expected that to fold her again, so his silvered hand could grab at another horn, and keep her bent while a storm of unprotected knuckles would rap her stomach and chest repeatedly. If she ever felt like she'd recover, he'd shake her by her horn to disorient her, so he could continue expending his other arm into her. And then, when he was good and ready, he'd shove her back with his boot.