[b][u]Aliquam: Academy of the Arts – Performance Hall, Corridor[/u][/b] Despite Moira’s intentions, she couldn’t really accurately predict Mattis or Estelle’s actions and reactions. Despite his incredible size, Mattis had a definite litheness in his agility that allowed him to dodge the smaller woman’s blows, and a quick few jabs of his own hit home. Moira bore the brunt of the pain of course, due to her own natural resilience and the defence buffering offered by Amy, but it still hurt. And before she knew it, she started to grow a bit too acclimated to her fighting high. The adrenaline rushing through her felt like it had a mind of its own… and once the faucet had been opened, it was difficult to close again. She swung another powerful jab aimed at Mattis’ face, but the large man, wearing the innocuously adorable rabbit mask darted to the side, out of Moira’s reach just in time… as Moira’s fist kept swinging. And landed, with a powerful, aching thud against someone else. [img]http://i.imgur.com/2uDBgEK.png[/img] Estelle was sent reeling, flying backwards from the force of the beserker’s fist to her face, and skidding along the smooth marble floor until she crashed against an ornately detailed column with a gasp and a cry. She reeled over in pain, holding her face, and didn’t rise up. Oh. Oh shit. In that brief moment of hesitation and realisation, Moira stopped. And Mattis’ own fist swung into Moira’s, a more powerfully swung attack that sent the berserker toppling off her own feet and skidding with a crash into one of the far walls. The sudden yank on the magical tether between her and Syed sent him dropping to his feet and skidding backwards as well, dropping his scarf. Mattis turned to Estelle, with a clearly displeased expression on his face, and shake of his head. He took no please or pride in that. Nothing beyond guilt. But what other options were there? -------------- [b][u]Aliquam: Academy of the Arts – Performance Hall, E Sector[/u][/b] "I know you're here!" Trixie called. "I can... uh... I can smell you!" “Oh god I give up don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me~!” A sorrowful wail erupted from Trixie’s side, followed by overenthusiastic sobbing. The barrels of Trixie’s uzis shot in the direction of the voice, which were surprisingly louder and closer then she thought- so loud and close in fact that she hadn’t noticed she was actually treading upon the voice’s back. “My butt already hurts enough no more please I swear!” The clatter of high heels landed upon the ground, and Francesca rose with great posture and poise, as slithering tendrils of darkness that emanated out from her shoulders curled down her forearms to her fingertips, and she lashed out into the pink haze that was Trixie’s smoke grenade. But then… “You! Harlot!” [img]http://i.imgur.com/WDVJyuu.png[/img] Francesca was suddenly rudely grabbed by her arms and thrown to the ground. Before the stunned woman could react, she felt a heavy, pressing pain in her right wrist as Tobias’ heavy boot fell atop it. Looking up, she saw the aristocratic patron look down at her with eyes heavy with anger. “What the hell did you do with my sword?”