Demoiselle || Vinceliese

Demoiselle

There was the violent crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot as two beings charged each other. It was a man and a woman, both seemingly around the same age. The man had longer black hair, a light tan blindfold somewhat covering his eyes. The woman, on the other hand, had a hair color close to the look of crimson blood. It gleamed whenever the sun struck it. A mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only the intensity of her narrowed red eyes to tell her emotions.

The two clashed swords, muscles straining as they tried to force the other back a step. It seemed that the woman was gaining the upper hand, her crossed blades preventing the man from making any attempt of disarming her, as it locked his own blade straight in the center. Just as it seemed the woman had won the upper hand, the man spun to the side, parrying away her attempted attacks.

The two were breathing heavily now from the strain, though fell into a circle, never breaking their interlocked gazes. The man suddenly charged at the woman, and she ducked beneath his swing, rolling to the side. He tried to bring his blade back around, but she was quick to block this, only using one sword while she used the other to swing at his shoulder.

The man jumped back safely and took a few steps backwards, watching as the woman raised herself back to her feet, sliding into a defensive stance. A smirk formed on his lips as he once more charged, swinging and thrusting the gleaming iron blade at her, trying to find some mistake in her form.

The woman either parried or dodged each attack, never breaking the beautiful dance she seemed to be performing in the wake of his onslaught of blows. Suddenly, she blocked his blade and forced it to the side. There was the scraping of metal against metal as the swords slid downwards. The man let out a hiss and dropped his sword, stepping back, holding his hand.

The woman, confused, pulled down the mask. She was frowning. "Vincent, are you alright?"

Vincent nodded, though as he moved his hand, it was clear she had sliced a gash into the flesh. Blood was starting to swell up in the wound.

"Oh my Irene, Vincent! Don't lie to me!" She stepped forward to try and see the wound, but the man was quick to pull his hand away.

"Hey now, Sweetheart. Don't worry about me. This is a good thing." He waved his injured hand about, and a bit of blood trickled down his wrist.

"How in the name of Irene is you getting hurt a good thing!"

"You were able to hurt me. You're improving." A smirk tugged at the corners of Vincent's lips.

The woman quickly grabbed at his arm and pulled off her mask, wrapping it around the wound to prevent any more blood loss. She refused to let Vincent pull his hand away, keeping her grip around his wrist tight as she did so. She tied off the makeshift bandage and looked up at the man with a triumphant, cheeky grin.

His own red eyes gazed down at the woman, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "Careful now Sweetheart, hold me any tighter and I might have to pin you up against a tree."

She blushed faintly, quickly letting go and stepping away in hopes he hadn't seen the slight change in color in her face. "I thought I told you to call me Anneliese..."

"That takes the fun out of everything," Vincent teased with a laugh. He turned and started walking the path back to the village, Anne following close behind. She eventually jogged until they were walking side-by-side back to Meteli. "Have you been thinking about my offer?"

Anneliese seemed somewhat shocked at his words, though bit her lip and lowered her head. "Y-yeah, I have... I just... I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of thing again, not after..."

"Storm Shield?" Vincent raised a brow, cutting her off. He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she had swallowed hard and looked away. "What happened wasn't your fault Sweetheart. You didn't have any other choice."