White Thorn | On Hold

Second Showdown

Silently, Arya cursed her luck.

Of course he'd choose to appear after she'd exhausted most of her strength on battling the thorns, rather than conveniently turning up just in time to get blasted away. That would've been handy, though somehow she doubted that'd be all it'd take to deal with someone like Jacob Thistlewood.

"So... you've already achieved it." His eyes narrowed on her, darting between her slight figure and the gaping hole that'd torn through the building. Thankfully, there'd been no one in it for one reason or another but the noise would've garnered some attention—most likely from a certain blonde Commander.

Flynn was no doubt already aware she'd left her room, thanks to his freakish senses when it came to her, but she doubted he'd be a match for the man in front of her.

Their meeting last time had proven that much.

"Seems like I need to teach you exactly why you shouldn't mess with those who've actually mastered the Bonebreaker Art..."

Velvet was dumped to the side in an instant, slumped out across the tiles of the courtyard. Knuckles cracked, hairs rose, and then Jacob vanished. Tiles cracked from the sheer force applied, and Arya threw herself out of the way she prayed he was coming from. She rolled across the large slabs of grey stone, clambering to her feet as she sprinted around the fountain that marked the centre of the large courtyard.

"Oh no you don't," Jacob sung, appearing in front of her in a flash, and Arya readied herself.

Not for a fight though.

No way in hell would she survive that in her condition.

Well...

Arya shook her head, getting rid of the thoughts creeping into her mind—invading like some sort of parasite. The images never went away, but they had no place in her thoughts at that moment in time. She needed focus more than ever. She ducked, her own feet digging into the ground as she leapt forwards with the last of her Bonebreaker strength. His fist skimmed her cheek, grazing her skin as she lunged past him and towards the place where Velvet lay sprawled out.

He'd ripped her from her prison cell, wherever that might have been. That much was obvious... which meant he wanted her for a reason.

And that reason would be enough to draw him away from her other two unconscious friends... because if Bonebreakers collided with fists and fury right there, they'd pay the consequences. Not that she could go toe to toe with the damn Thistlewood anyway.

She'd used the last of her strength to get away from him, and then—after she grabbed Velvet—the real test would begin. Arya grabbed her by the waist, slinging her over her shoulder with as much strength as she could muster. Velvet wasn't that heavy, per say, but Arya's arms weren't in great condition after all the events that'd already happened that night. Neither were her legs, but she ignored their protests. She ran into the roofed walkway, hurrying further into the building, smiling grimly as she heard the sounds of pursuit.

Jake and Lydia were safe.

Though she wasn't too sure how Velvet was doing.

She only prayed someone found them soon.

That was as much thought as she spared the three unconscious people she knew—her attention refocusing on the raging bull charging towards her from behind. She could hear every step, taste the scent of blood in the air every time she took a breath.

Her second prayer was that someone found her soon, and she silently asked Vasilith for help.

She needed it.

With every step he gained ground on her.

With every step her legs ached just that bit more.

"Give it up," Jacob's voice was alarmingly close, and rather than sprinting down the corridor she trusted her instincts... and sprinted into the nearest room.

Fortunately for her, her abysmal sense of direction hadn't led her wrong just yet as she charged through yet another door—it slamming shut behind her as she wove her way through a maze of rooms.

They slowed down her pursuer thankfully, but eventually her internal compass led her wrong.

She burst into the room as quietly as possible. The silence behind her was unnerving, as was the room of mannequins in front of her.

But it was those that gave her an idea.

She sprinted to the cupboard, shoving Velvet inside as quickly, and gently, as she could, grabbing the nearest dark-haired mannequin on her way to the window—the only exit in the eerie room. Glass burst in a rain of shards, the noise cutting through the stillness of the night, and Arya held her breath as she ran.

Whether by luck, or the sheer stupidity of her pursuer, he followed her without batting an eye. He charged towards her, his fist slamming into her unguarded back with a loud thud.

Arya sailed through the air, and the mannequin broke.

"You—"

She grinned, pushing herself to her elbows as he prowled closer to her. His fist was drawn back, ready to punch her into oblivion.

A flash of blonde hair flittered into her vision, her eyes widening as she recognised who had come to her rescue with a punch that could only belong to one kind of a person.

Ryu.