Fight Scene

Why?

"Alright, I'll just find out later." He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, tearing his eyes away from Demille. She let out a small breath and relaxed a bit, realizing that her nails had been digging into her clenched palms, slick with sweat. She kept her eyes on the man- Egill, racking her brain trying to figure out what his goal was. There was no point in telling her his name that she could see, other than to simply mess with her. He was a complete mystery to her and she hated it, partially because he acted like he knew her inside out. He stayed close to her but stayed silent, seemingly in his mind as much as she was. Demille considered attacking him while he was distracted, but decided against it as soon as the thought formed. Even if she managed to attack him before he flung her away again, she wasn't about to gamble her life on whether or not she could use that strange ability and save herself again. If she could though... It would be a huge advantage.
"Tell me something, stranger." Demille uncrossed her arms, splaying them outward. Egill raised his eyes to look at her, ignoring the dirt he had started absentmindedly cleaning from under his fingernails. "What's the point of this?" 
"The point of what, destroying what was destined to be turned to ash?" He let out a small huff of a laugh, turning his body to face her again but keeping the distance, as if she would attack him the moment he got near. Not too bad a plan, but it would probably fail.
"This was a prosperous town away from any danger, crowded with people simply existing!"
"Such a place is teeming with ruin, a haven for people whose hearts are made of useless mush." Egill snapped at her, taking a brisk step forward and furrowing his brows.
"Sounds like your kind of people." Demille took a step forward as well, baring her teeth as if she were an animal on the hunt. "You called me a hypocrite but look at yourself! Destroying so many lives because there's a chance bad people are in hiding? What's your heart made of?"
"I'm not doing this." He scoffed, hand flicking at his side again. Demille broke her stare on his eyes to focus on his hand, watching to see if he's been doing something with his ability this whole time. It's possible he's a perception-type, though she doubts it. He followed her gaze and hid his hand behind his back, as if he were a child caught with a candy he wasn't allowed to have. Demille grinned.
"What'cha got there Egill, some new kind of trick?" A bit of red bloomed on his cheeks as his brow furrowed deeper.
"It's a habit. And none of your concern." He growled in a low voice. Demille could almost make herself believe she'd imagined the words and the hostility in which Egill had said them, if it weren't for the fact that they had sent a chill down her spine. Why is that a trigger for him? Yet another layer of mystery that frustrated her to her core. His sudden bursts of emotion were strange, she thought. Especially considering his dull demeanor before. Had she taken him off-guard that much when she overrode his ability?
In the distance the sound of unnaturally blowing wind erupted, making the two of them spin to face the sudden noise. Questions forgotten for the moment, Demille ducked down and curled her body to protect herself from the blast of heat she knew was coming. Egill didn't move, frozen in place and staring in the direction of whipping air. She figured he wouldn't have to worry too much about facing high winds since he could control the wind himself.
Heat enveloped her body in an instant, making Demille squeeze her eyes shut. She heard Egill yelp in surprise, as if he hadn't known what was coming, but couldn't make herself open her eyes enough to see what was happening. Instead, she slowly raised her body into a crouching position and booked it for shelter. There was nowhere to hide in the middle of the street if debris flew over, so she ran to the side of the building she had been facing. She kept her body low so the wind wouldn't knock her over, whether it came from Egill or the wind-controlling stranger in the distance. Sharp stinging pain ebbed through the wound on her arm again, burning in the hot air. Unable to see anything other than what was right in front of her, Demille was careful to slow down once she reached the building's fence. With a gasp she ducked to the side of a wall, making sure not to lean on the scorching metal and burn her back. The hot air no longer pushed against her frame, but it still nipped at her. Beads of sweat rolled down her neck, making a trail through the grime she had failed to wipe off. With her aching arm cradled to her chest Demille looked out over the edge of the wall, hoping to get a grip on the situation. Egill stood in the street, arms wrapped around himself. His hair whipped around his face brutally as he paced, shoved by the harsh wind. He searched frantically with his eyes, vision affected by both the hot wind and his hair, but for what she had no idea.