Quick noble boy with his dark arts and arrogant words, she would cut him down and put this to an end.<br/><br/>Running on the last legs of her strength, Lyra scowled darkly when he evaded her icy onslaught. She dug the soles of her feet into the cobblestone and angled her direction just so before sprinting off toward him with her sword raised. Thrust once then twice. Useless. He'd ducked before metal could impale flesh and her actions had grown slow and sloppy due the growing influence of the veil. Every move began to burn, the same radiating pain she'd felt in her throat. Blasted Geslack and their cowardly curses. The house of Bremmington fought with Ice and Steel, but perhaps it had been too much to expect a fair fight from a snake. "Are you going to hide behind your magic forever, snake?" Because he was venomous and vile like all the creatures that crawled on their bellies in the dirt. The poison continued to spread as she pulled back her arm for another thrust, he caught her wrist and slashed the shears across the bottom half oh her ribcage. Metal tore through flesh, a fearful realization finally shone in haughty Bremmington eyes.<br/><br/>Blast it. Blast it all to Godforsaken Hell. Lyra raised her foot, aiming to stomp the sole of it into his kneecap. It was a simple defensive move, but the veil coupled with the latest injury he'd inflicted left her immobile and in pain. Easily he shoved her onto the ground and the air left her lungs as cement slammed into flesh and as her wounds and the curse from his magic continued to burn her from the inside. It was difficult to breathe and do anything.<br/><br/>The Geslack snake was much quicker than her, using her own sword to tear the fabric of her cloak and shirt to shreds and exposing her pale skin and the bleeding gashes he'd inflicted on her with her shears. Time seemed to slow (and for just a moment) the proud and brave Bremmington looked as if she were a frightened lamb. Had he seen the subtle shift in her eyes and features? She reigned it in of course, like she always did in moments of distress. Lyra reached for the canteen by her waist and uncapped it, allowing the water to spill beneath them. By then the Geslack had placed his lips onto her skin and her heart hammered in fear at where the encounter was going. Perhaps it was good that he was busy. It meant he wouldn't notice when she brought an ice spear up to impale him from the side.<br/><br/>Determined, Lyra slammed her hand into the grass and willed ice into existence. It didn't work. He magic failed her. "What," the words were barely a whisper. "What have you done to me?"  The hand slammed into the ground three times in succession, but no mater how hard she tried to channel ice into being, it failed. She realized she could no longer feel the cool magic flowing through her veins: it had been replaced by the sickly heat from the veil he'd created.<br/><br/>She'd handled ice for all of her life, and now, it had fled from her. Rage and despair mingled into hate as the Geslack pinned her down and began to lewdly lick at her wounds. Everything about this made her hate him more and more. Lyra thrashed beneath him before pulling back her hand to clock him in the jaw with a fist.