RP:Close Shaves and a Hair Cut

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Mage Tower Training Center

Satoshi appears tremendously out of place currently, and not for her usual peculiarities either--those just added to the effect. No, what separates her from the other mages present is the katana of frost in her hand, the series of dancing sequences she moves through with the blade, and lastly the way cat and sword seem to be humming an identical tune throughout. Certainly there are others with weapons in hand, but she's the only one practicing without a single spell to augment her training. An instructor lingers, watching, before seeming to become fed up and begin approaching the feline, to send her to another training ground for swordplay.


Drathir had been just standing to the side, watching the woman practice with her humming weapon. At least, until the instructor decided he wanted to try to interfere. Drawing his twin weapons, the elf intercedes, shaking his head at the instructor. Seeing the mage about to scold him, the vampire extends his daggers to swords, lofting a brow. The elderly mage gives up, throwing up his hands in defeat and muttering something about damnable kids. And so, risking life and limb, Ayras throws himself before Satoshi, slamming one of his magically extended blades against hers. Of course, a smirk is on his lips.


Satoshi falters a moment at the sudden blade against hers before feline reflexes correct her pause. "I seem to be cursed with undead swordsmen following me around~." Smirking, she suddenly draws back and twists to the side, letting Ayras' sword feel the abrupt loss of opposing force as her turn brings her full-circle, frozen-blade moving with the momentum to lash out in a right-to-left horizontal swipe at the vampire from his side. A certain elven corpse--now fireplace fodder, might have noticed the feline's improvement with the weapon as of late. Still, she's rather good at leaving herself open after an attack...


Drathir follows his momentum as he suddenly dips forward, moving into a spin to bring his sword's twin to intercept Satoshi's icy brand. He presses forward, his other weapon slinking behind Satoshi's neck...and incidentally, the woman's hair is cut to jaw-length before the elf's sharp blade is turned to avoid cutting flesh. "We offer some of the best training around, I'm sure," he veritably purrs.


Satoshi freezes, going as rigid as the element she's so fond of, when the slight weight of those lengthy locks simply fall away with the faintest slicing sound. Sword-wielding hand drops to her side, katana hanging in a limp grip, while her free hand reaches up to tentatively feel at the severed hair, only the two thick locks laying in front of her shoulders spared the execution. "You..." the feline's voice is icy as she turns to regard the elf--her movement a hint off-balance. Grip trightening once more on her blade, she growls out the rest of her statement while bringing the katana up in a diagonal sweep from his hip to shoulder, only so the blade can twist and reverse at the end of the sweep to make a swipe for his neck, all leading up to a series of wild swings forced with every ounce of speed the cat can muster. "You're going to pay for that!" Temper in place, what little grace she might possess with the weapon is out the window.


Drathir keeps one sword ready to clang against Satoshi's ice katana, forcing it away from his body; and, too, when she twirls it around for another slice, it's his other weapon that meets it headlong. Over and over the pattern repeats, his body twisting, twirling, and spinning, his weapons singing their song with Satoshi's. Soon, though, Ayras grows weary of the spiraling defensive and decides to take things into his own hands. Catching Satoshi's sword with one blade, he bashes it away with the other...all to bring his now-free sword to the woman's throat...as low as that may be. "Do not let your emotions control your attacks, Satoshi. You will get yourself killed like that. And, as for the hair..." he smirks, tipping his head so he can regard the short feline from behind his ruby locks. "You don't want hair that long for your opponent to grab hold of."


Satoshi's fury evaporates as quickly as it appeared with a blade to her throat, only huffing breath and narrowed eyes remaining of her mood. "Nyeh... -You- don't have short hair! And..." the mage's shoulders slump with her words, her voice taking on a childishly whiny tone, "I liked my hair that length~." Carefully turning her head to avoid slicing her own neck on the sword so close, she tosses a forlorn look to the fallen locks.


Drathir snickers as he turns Satoshi's gaze back towards him. "I don't have short hair because I have had decades to practice fighting with my hair this long. An advantage you don't have yet." He leans down, all of a sudden, and his lips are against the feline's...and when he pulls away, Satoshi would find that her lips are bleeding, with two pricks in her bottom lip...and her blood on Ayras' lips. That in itself makes the vampiric elf heady, and he winds up stumbling back a bit.


Satoshi is left wide-eyed and unmoving for a long moment and it's only after a lick across her bottom lips leaves the taste of blood in her mouth does she react. Aryas' stumble back only lines him up that much better for the slap, claws flexed just enough to scour a few lines across his cheek. "What was that for?!" she hisses, fangs clenched and small frame trembling as she struggles to resist the urge to make a lunge for his neck.


Drathir can't exactly respond, and the slap only sends the spellblade to his rump - thank the gods for a wall behind him to support him. Indeed, he looks like he's been drugged, even.


Satoshi would say she's on an emotional rollercoaster, if she knew what a rollercoaster was... Nonetheless! Sudden fury once more dies out to be replaced by a mild concern--although, it's really more curiosity than concern. "Erm... What the hell is wrong with you...?" Tentatively, she pokes at his shoulder with her katana. The remaining dregs of her temper come in the form of a mite too much force used in those pokes, just enough to prick the skin beneath leather.


Drathir now has blood leaking from his shoulder, albeit minisculy. The elf seems to be staring, and nothing more, at the blood on Satoshi's lips, and the look in his eyes would be akin to that of a drug addict. Apparently Ayras has found himself an addiction to call his own.


Satoshi begins to back up slowly, eyes remaining on the vampire warily. She recognizes the look well enough, it's one she's worn when with her tiefling. "Erm... Hamlet, er... Ayras. Stop looking at me like that, hmm?" She tries to keep the tone light, joking, but she can't quite stop the anxiously helpless expression she wears.


Drathir : Perhaps it's for the best - for Satoshi, at least - that Ayras' collection of spells goes haywire at that moment. His weapons flare with various auras, plants sprout and die...and suddenly, Ayras, himself, falls through a portal that appears under him.