Good theory, good form. A power stroke from an angle that takes advantage of the natural spawning position of her heartblade and is simultaneously designed to incite a blocking instinct in the opponent. Weight on opposite end creates a natural fulcrum around which the power of that large body could constantly be leveraged. Attack defeats lesser foe instantly, greater foe reduces possibility space via absorption or avoidance, defeated by follow up strike from more natural stance. Higher power, weakened opponent, broken will. In short, immaculate training resulted in purest crystallization of the Paladin as a woman, as a warrior, and as a creature of this beautiful world. 

How! Ev! Er! Fundamental misunderstanding of the opponent in front of her. Few fools would dare, if they knew.

Eclair is perching on the tip of the glaive. The skateboard she uses as a shield has already left her back and is arcing through the air over her head. When the inevitable, wild swing attempts to shake her loose she merely turns the weapon into a launchpad. Such a beautiful haft, as strong and as straight as the Paladins' code. A more perfect rail could not be asked for. 

The board comes down and Eclair's feet plant firmly atop of it. As one they come down on the shaft of the Kel's heartblade, and now it is the Maid-Knight who controls the weapon's center of gravity. Angled as it is when she rides one set of wheels the whole way down its length it is as though she has controlled the Kel's own heart into betraying her. She builds speed in shockingly little time. She leaps as she reaches the bottom, forcing the weapon out of a blocking position and flipping her board up into the air behind her.

It is [i]entirely[/i] necessary to perform the mid-air split. In the first place she must achieve maximum extension in order for her kick to have the desired effect, and in the second place she must reach in the opposite direction to put on foot back on her board as she grabs the edge of it with her left hand. Place the offensive foot on center of breastplate. Push. Full transfer of energy of motion through largest amount of opponent's body, now off balance from kickflip/grind combo, mountain girl takes flight. 

Eclair curves her spine in the seeming of the crescent moon to plant both of her feet on the back of the skateboard while she is still pulling it back into alignment with the ground. The stomp onto the clean, sand free surface transitions perfectly into a smooth kick along the ground to realign her momentum toward the skidding form of the woman who had dared come between her and the act of cleaning. The gentle sound of wheels rolling across the ground is a brief balm to her mind, even now attempting to hold onto Dollwaltz, but before long she has overtaken her target and taken her by the heartblade.

It is, of course, folly to try and disarm somebody of their heart's weapon by simple brute force. Fighting their willpower [i]and[/i] their muscles with only the power of your body was a type of arrogance that belonged more in a Fallen Star than in anyone who counted themselves as an ally of justice (or even just a casual fan of justice). The tendency of a heartblade was to remain with its master until or unless said master yearned for surrender. But all the ways a heartblade was the true strength of a warrior made it their weakness, as well. Maintaining grip at the center of the shaft on an opponent determined to fight was essentially the same as holding a kitten by the scruff when you both go spinning around a support column to build up sufficient velocity to go careening through the front door and into the cool, dark streets outside. What could the Kel even do but hold on? To be disarmed of your own heart was to surrender inside of it.

Strike with broom, still held, at fasten of armor near waist. Goal: unbalance, disorient, remind of soft flesh underneath that glittering shell. Release. Admire sparks on street for ONE two three... darn it. Roll to stop. Stomp on board, return to back.

Eclair plants her broom in front of her like a sword. In almost the same motion she has retrieved her notebook and is hastily scribbling information into it. No time to care about her handwriting now, that's a problem for future Eclair to unravel.

[i]Attacked. Kel Paladin, unusual build. Tall, heartweapon typical single edge glaive with full moon counterweight. 
Highly typical aggression. Interrupted cleaning of Vessenmer dyes, ignored attempts at parlay.
Stupid? Assassin?[/i]

She blows on the ink, peering with one eye over the edge of her book.

"What [i]I[/i] do not understand," she drawls, "Is this utter lack of respect for the art of the heart duel."

"You draw your heart on me, without my permission! And I am expected to, what? Bare my heart in kind? Sweet Lady Knight, we have not even exchanged names yet! Does the rest of your order know how... promiscuous you are? And yet doubtless in this exchange I will be perceived as the rude one."

She snaps the notebook closed and pockets it again so she can grip her broom with both hands. Her eyes glitter in the reflected light of fireworks bursting in the sky above them.

"That is a delusion you are laboring under, [i]Miss[/i]. You must not think of yourself as an aggrieved knight. You are in fact a stubborn stain on the floor of Vessenmer Dyes. We do not duel, Miss. I am [i]cleaning.[/i]"

And she leaves that hanging in the air, with her nose turned slightly up in that haughty Aurora way. For all with ears to hear it, and all with eyes to see it.

(Fight with Daring: [b]12[/b]. Eclair inflicts a Condition, takes a String through the power of raw humiliation, and seizes a superior position)