Conclusion The fight was more balanced now. Isis's hair gave her extra limbs and eyes, making up immensely for her lack of experience. My heightened awareness gave me a clear image of everything that was happening around me. In a way, it was too balanced. We had been circling each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of us being able to land a blow on the other. I would dart in and be blocked by a spurt of hair, then I would dart away and leave Isis without an easy target. She would launch several different clumps of hair at me and I would dip around them, then she would curl her hair about her and leave me without an opening. We repeated this dance countless times. No ground was gained or lost, and no blows were traded. It was the most frustrating stalemate I have ever been in.
Realization Maybe I could increase my chances of survival if I throw rocks in all those Eyes. I leapt back as a giant fist made of intertwined hair strands attempted to squash me. One of the eyes in question glared at me from the back of the hand. I decided to continue backpedalling. The fight had become much more of a challenge now. Isis's hair had no limit to its range of motion, nor to its length. It could sprout eyes at any point and form any sort of shape Isis could imagine. It also acted like a pack of wolves, herding me around like an injured deer. An image of wolves tearing into a helpless doe sprung to mind. Was it a coincidence that multiple, hairy mouths began to close in on me? I dove in the only direction that didn't have teeth incoming, seeing the slight bump in the ground three seconds too late. A rattle, then a bang. The burst of shadow energy slammed into me and l
Evolution Fear began to show in her eyes and they quivered as they met mine. I don't know what she saw in my eyes, but I was positive that there wasn't a lot of sympathy. Her breathing was fast, her chest rising and falling with increasing rapidity. Mine was even, a product of hours of conditioning and training. Her hands were cold and shaky as they tried to move my arms off her shoulders. Mine were firm, heavy and still as they held her to the ground. Her body was tense, writhing and wriggling, trying to find a way out. Mine was relaxed, letting my weight keep her at a disadvantage. She was weak, I was strong. And yet, I was in turmoil. This doesn't feel right. I shouldn't cause her so much pain and fear. She's a hiems guest, and has more strength than you credit her for. It feels like I'm bullying a toddler. She's a world eater, I don't think they come weak.
Confrontation Does she know what she's doing? I easily ducked under a sloppy punch and sidestepped a sloppier follow up. Isis kept powering on, kicking and punching, apparently oblivious to her lack of skill. I let out a low sigh, the only outward sign of the endless pit of boredom growing inside me. Isis had oceans of energy, boundless in depth and width, but didn't have a drop of experience when it came to fighting. Fighting an amateur is both a boring and frustrating process. I bowed beneath a punch aimed for my head, then swayed to the right. I balled my hand into a fist. Isis began to block, seeing my right fist, but was blindsided by my left leg. The direct hit staggered the girl, sending her back a few steps, but did little damage. I wasn't eager to hurt her. Isis bent over, gripping her right side, and gasped for breath. I lowered my foot, and waited for her to collect herself. It didn't feel right attacking her at that