Cervato - Girl On Fire (Part 1 of Cervato's Saga)

The Duel with Saromire Lancastir

Pact soldiers buried their brows deeply with mouths gaping as they watched on in confusion upon Vizier's Tower. The landmark was being trekked more often in the years after Zhaitan's defeat by those who sought adventure, treasure, and pilgrimage to the lands of Orr. However, on this particular evening, there were two people having what seemed to be a spar.

The rain and fog flooded the landscape, soaking into the columns holding the structure upright. The two warriors would not relent as they fought atop the ruin. Blades danced with practiced steps to meet against a powerful shield. Intense eyes filled with the lust for victory stared across the barrier at one another. The beautiful blade that held a legacy of a family was thrust forward aimed towards her hip, sparks emitting from the gleaming metal. Blood ran down it like wine, quenching it's thirst.

However, being struck only urged her to engage harder. The woman drenched from the rain and overlying mist spun, and the glowing embers of life danced within the phoenix's eyes as the blade that represented rebirth found the spot between his breastplate and pauldron. That blood lust lingered, which he knew all too well from their first bout merely a year ago. Yet then, they had been drunk, fighting in the Palace Gardens without a care in the world. Lightning flashed nearby, striking the top of the tower, followed by the looming thunder that rolled across the land. The flash highlighted their forms to one another. Desperation, Pride, and Honor filled their eyes determined to win this bout.

A second flash, and their blades ran against each other. A laceration awarded to each as his blade eventually met her forearm and her secondary blade scraped along his ribs. The first to three strikes would bow down to the wishes of the victor, the prize for each already set at Luna's wedding. Soon. They both knew it was coming to an end. Once more they parried against each other, like clockwork, spinning, blocking, and halting any efforts before making the next strike.

His grand shield was thrown as a projectile, striking her arm to knock one blade from her hand. Now both were left to only one sword. The monument of a figure of the past stood within the center of their battlefield. She gave chase, following him around the statue, seeking victory. His blade engaged with hers as he was forced to retreat backwards several times from her efforts. However, due to his quick thinking, his blade snagged hers, singing steel sounding as it slid along hers. Without warning he pushed all his weight into the blade, forcing her to release the sword, and his own being discarded from the amount of effort it took.

Disarmed, they looked upon one another.

This was it.

Like a gale force wind, she rushed towards him with an arm raised prepared to deliver a final blow to his jaw. His own fist was falling down to meet her determined gaze. Both were knocked back by the others punch, hard blows delivered to each.

As her dark gaze lifted, she felt along her face, noting the scratch delivered by his gauntlet. He too felt along his jaw, a cut rendered their by her own. Each combatant looked towards their opponent noting they had succeeded. Yet, who was the winner?

His chest began to rise and fall, laughter being exhibited. Her painted lips pulled back into a signature smirk.

A new pair of silver shears began to cut the long golden strands from his head. As the locks fell, more words came from him, regarding the home in which he felt was a cage. A father that was no longer just. And a son being forced to make a terrible choice. As her task ended, he rose, the frozen sun clouded in the distance over his shoulder as dawn was breaking. Rain continued to fall as he brought her into an embrace. His expression was soft and his heavy blue gaze was filled with satisfaction. Her own revealed just how much pleasure she had taken in their spar as she smiled. Her reward had been claimed as he displayed just a short crop of hair remained. Then Saromire lowered his head as he went to claim his own.

A kiss.