Fight Scene

The Power of Wind

Demille reached out her right hand and grabbed the man's shirt, just as he had grabbed hers, and pulled him close. His eyes went wide with surprise, and though it was only for a moment she relished in seeing some real emotion on his dull face. He lifted a hand to bat her away but she took hold of his arm with her other hand, finding just enough strength in her burned arm to hold him still.
"The hell we are, two sides of a coin." She scoffed, finding it unbelievable that she'd believe such a thing for even a moment. "I work on my physical skills alongside my ability skills, it's just that I was a bit of a late bloomer." She squeezed the man's arm tight with her left hand, ignoring the screams of pain shooting through her nerves. Letting go with her good hand, she stepped forward and tugged hard, pivoting with her foot. The man's feet lift off the ground, his mouth opening to make a sound. He doesn't get a chance to speak. Demille kept on tugging, squatting slightly to get him up onto her shoulder before straightening up and bending over. As she leans forward she tugs with her arms, throwing the man over her head but keeping an iron grip. He flew with ease, still silent, and it felt like time itself had stopped. It was practically slow motion as Demille could see his eyes close tight and feel his muscles tense. His curls flew all over, smacking harshly against her face, and when she couldn't handle the moment any longer she pulled downwards, tossing the man onto the pavement below. The satisfying thump of her opponent hitting the ground came, and yet Demille felt it was somehow... Wrong?
Time sped up again all at once as she realized the man had landed on his feet, bending his legs and straightening his torso so that his head wouldn't connect with the ground. He straightened himself quickly, twisting his body in order to use her hold on him to jerk her forward before she could let go. As she stumbled into him her body was lifted straight up off the ground, and she didn't dare to relax her grip on the man's wrist or else she'd fly upwards without any kind of tether. Her eyes snapped shut. For a brief, terrifying moment she was completely at the man's mercy, having no way of defending herself midair. Her body was yanked in the opposite direction of him, and she tried clawing with both hands for the man's arm. She opened her eyes, desperate to hold on. Silently pleading to the man of living ice. Another yank separated them completely, her short nails dragging against the cloth of his shirt. Her legs swung over her head and the breath was knocked out of her lungs as she flew, unable to control her movements.
Demille was tossed upwards into the air with great speed, fighting to have any kind of control over her body. Something, which she assumed was the man's wind, tugged her limbs this way and that, like a toy being fought over by children, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut again to keep from throwing up. She couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't even hear where she was going other than the rushing wind passing by her. Then just as suddenly as she had flown up her body stopped, frozen in the sky. She couldn't move, not for lack of trying, any more than just squirming around. She didn't dare open her eyes, not knowing if she would be blinded by the light of the sun or get sick from the sheer height she felt she was at.
There was only the sound of her own heartbeat and panting breaths, ever audible over the screams and crackles of flame echoing throughout the town. She heard another building collapse in the distance, relying on her hearing with her eyes shielding the horrific view she knew was just below her. The world on fire she might be dropped back into at any moment. Her arm stung, the burn seeming to taunt her with its fiery heat against her cold skin. A viscous reminder of what's to come. If she somehow managed to survive the fall, which is unlikely in of itself, she would still have to either fight the man who had gotten the best of her with such little effort or escape who knows how far in the middle of the broken city. Not to even mention the fact that her fiance and their mother were still alive inside the collapsed building she crawled out of. Though, she didn't think she'd mind too much if her soon-to-be mother in law were to croak before she could help free her from the rubble.
Demille started inching her eyes open, her determination firming by the second as she thought of the people in town. Trapped, dying and dead. She doesn't need to defeat the man, there are people who will come to do that eventually. She's not an authority figure, but just some village girl. Yet... She's strong enough to do it. Her mind glazed over and her body started working on autopilot, an instinct she couldn't recall ever using before. Her arms stretched out as far as they could go with the restrictions and her head tilted backward, exposing her neck as if a vampire was going to eat her.
Focusing on her breaths and clearing her mind, Demille activated her ability. She started pulling her blood out of any open wound she could find in her skin. Scrapes that hadn't closed, the wound from biting her tongue earlier, the cut she had used before on her leg, the small cuts on her head from the fence post. As much blood as safely possible escaped her body and wavered in the air, forming a thick orb under her control. Control. She slowly started moving it downward, feeling for the pull of power from the man's wind, and latched onto the ability itself. She couldn't physically feel the direction of the wind, but she knew how to control it. She reached out with her own power and felt the support of the wind itself, strings of motion that grabbed at her with invisible paws. Demille grabs hold of them, pushing. Pulling. Twisting it wherever suited her. Her mind sparked as she made her blood flow throughout the wind's patterns, cascading down toward the man and taking her body with it. She didn't dare to move, in case it would break her concentration, but she ebbed away at the distance between her and the ground. Her own ability overpowered the man's as her blood flowed throughout the wind, breaking its shape. She moved it in patterns of her own, forcing the wind it's interlocked with to move with it.
After what felt like an eternity her feet finally touched the ground. Not with a hard crack like she had expected only moments ago- for in truth she was in the air for less than five minutes- but with a gentle tap. Her power, and blood, receded back inside of her, ready to grab at any moment but unnoticeable. Demille finally dared to open her eyes, straightening her back in pride. She didn't allow any of her excitement and wonder to escape outside of her mind, struggling to keep the raging emotions off of her face.
I have to look like I know what I just did, she thought, lifting her head. She found herself right back in that same destroyed street, staring at the man whose power was just her own. His features were pulled tight, as if someone had clamped back the skin on his face, but still collected. The only thing that gave away his true emotions were his eyes, wide and bright with wonder in stark contrast to his disinterested expression before. Demille could practically see the man taking mental note of the situation, showing a side of him she never would have expected. And a connection she hated. A curious mind like McRoss. (A.N: Demille's mentor)