Her father's words reverberated with the weight of her enemy's attack. Birds, beautiful and composed of blue energy, crashed into her; three exploding into shards as they hit. The courtyard was mostly abandoned, but Elefthemia Lunaclad saw nothing of its empty beauty. All she saw was her opponent, the range between them. The rest was a blur. Behind her a gasp; coinciding with the edict ingrained.
We Lunaclads fight for the weak, Ellie. Steel yourself and raise your hands. Give everything you have, until nothing remains! Show the world your heart!
She hated that word. Weak. It rolled from so many tongues with vile ease. Nobody was weak in Ellie's eyes. Misguided, perhaps, or restrained by themselves; all they needed was help. Someone to understand. Those who oppressed were her enemy, those who chose to flaunt their power without mercy or consideration. The boy before her, with his beautiful attacks and pretty face. He was her enemy. The boy behind her, the Nobody, his nose already bloodied from the haughty bird-thrower's punch. He was a friend, even if she didn't know him.
Her face was like stone. It always was during a fight. The boy laughed, shifting back and flourishing his arms. She had intervened without hesitation, leaving her lunch near a hedge. Now she was wrapped up in an unofficial fight. That thought had sickened her, at first. She had always been taught to do things the right way. The right way had earned her Rank. D+ and on her way to C-. Her fists clenched, the right aching to be free of the cloth wrapped around it.
Ellie flinched, a little, blood dripping from her shoulder. The pain setting in, forcing realization to the forefront.
Another attack. He doesn't know.
Footwork was important. Her father had taught her that long ago. Ellie hopped backwards, far more gracefully than her frame would suggest. Tall and lined with muscle, she towered over most of those she encountered. The pretty boy flung his hands forward, sending out another trio of exploding birds. Her guard was up, but they still stung; tearing small holes in clothing and the lingering pain suggested future bruises.
Now.
Simplicity and ferocity. Ellie Lunaclad released the Snapper. Moving forward, she was a blur, her head low and her fists still up. The boy's eyes widened and he began to move aside. She was faster; more devoted to this struggle. Ellie's right hook connected with his jaw, sending the boy sprawling. He was unconscious before he hit the hedge, breaking branches with his landing.
All at once, the tension left her. A soft smile touched her face. It was the way she usually looked. Her hands fell to her side and she turned. The boy with the bloody nose had stood, watching. Ellie checked her right hand, taking a moment to adjust the wrapping. If it had come loose... She didn't want to think about that.
"Are you alright?" Her voice was husky, but gentle, "I'm sorry about that..."
"That was awesome!" The boy wiped his nose with his sleeve and stepped forward, looking excitedly between the bird-thrower and Ellie. "Thanks for, uh, stepping in! What's your name, anyway? I'm Osman!" His excitement brought a wider smile to her face. She nodded. Osman continued. "But that was great! Seisil always tries to get money from me at lunch. I bet he won't be doing that any time soon!"
"My name's Ellie. If he gives you trouble, please let me know." Opening her Enlil Network, she sent Osman Cain an Ally request. "I should get going to class." Almost immediately she was pinged with an acceptance notification. She started to turn, but stalled; looking at the boy-at Seisil-with a frown. "Or the nurse." That was a better course of action. Thankfully, she had taken off her uniform jacket before the fight.
It was a male's uniform. She hadn't requested it, but that was the only thing that had fit her. In a way, she had come to like it; despite the odd looks it had garnered during her first year at Port Crescendo East Academy. She retrieved it, along with her half-eaten lunch; tossing the sandwich into the trash and putting on the jacket all at once. "Would you like to come with me?" Osman was lingering near her, practically bouncing. He nodded enthusiastically. "Alright," came the gentle response, "let's go, Osman."
The two of them left the courtyard quickly, Osman keeping pace with Ellie's long strides. Entering the building, she immediately was stopped. The girl before her was slight, her eyes bright and a sword in her hands. To Ellie it looked like she had meant to intervene. Perhaps looking from a window. Regardless, the girl was sizing her up. Slowly, the sword was put away.
"Elefthemia Lunaclad. Osman Cain. Seisil Stamatti," her voice was imperious, her stance one of authority, Ellie recognized her as a member of the Disciplinary Committee; her heart sinking immediately, "All of you will be penalized. Engaging in an unofficial fight on academy grounds. Detention. Come with me."
"Please inform the nurse of Seisil's condition." Ellie sighed, heavily, casting a glance at Osman. Both of them had their shoulders drooped, their eyes meeting and then trailing to the ground. The sword-girl nodded, her eyes narrow slits; disapproval and disdain apparent. She turned, motioning for Ellie and Osman to follow.
We Lunaclads fight for the weak. Steel yourself and raise your hands. Give everything, until nothing remains.
She went along without argument, turning things over. Her opponent, defeated, was on her mind. The dangerous blue streaks, the curve of his chin. How beauty could be disgusting.
We Lunaclads fight for the weak, Ellie. Steel yourself and raise your hands. Give everything you have, until nothing remains! Show the world your heart!
She hated that word. Weak. It rolled from so many tongues with vile ease. Nobody was weak in Ellie's eyes. Misguided, perhaps, or restrained by themselves; all they needed was help. Someone to understand. Those who oppressed were her enemy, those who chose to flaunt their power without mercy or consideration. The boy before her, with his beautiful attacks and pretty face. He was her enemy. The boy behind her, the Nobody, his nose already bloodied from the haughty bird-thrower's punch. He was a friend, even if she didn't know him.
Her face was like stone. It always was during a fight. The boy laughed, shifting back and flourishing his arms. She had intervened without hesitation, leaving her lunch near a hedge. Now she was wrapped up in an unofficial fight. That thought had sickened her, at first. She had always been taught to do things the right way. The right way had earned her Rank. D+ and on her way to C-. Her fists clenched, the right aching to be free of the cloth wrapped around it.
Ellie flinched, a little, blood dripping from her shoulder. The pain setting in, forcing realization to the forefront.
Another attack. He doesn't know.
Footwork was important. Her father had taught her that long ago. Ellie hopped backwards, far more gracefully than her frame would suggest. Tall and lined with muscle, she towered over most of those she encountered. The pretty boy flung his hands forward, sending out another trio of exploding birds. Her guard was up, but they still stung; tearing small holes in clothing and the lingering pain suggested future bruises.
Now.
Simplicity and ferocity. Ellie Lunaclad released the Snapper. Moving forward, she was a blur, her head low and her fists still up. The boy's eyes widened and he began to move aside. She was faster; more devoted to this struggle. Ellie's right hook connected with his jaw, sending the boy sprawling. He was unconscious before he hit the hedge, breaking branches with his landing.
All at once, the tension left her. A soft smile touched her face. It was the way she usually looked. Her hands fell to her side and she turned. The boy with the bloody nose had stood, watching. Ellie checked her right hand, taking a moment to adjust the wrapping. If it had come loose... She didn't want to think about that.
"Are you alright?" Her voice was husky, but gentle, "I'm sorry about that..."
"That was awesome!" The boy wiped his nose with his sleeve and stepped forward, looking excitedly between the bird-thrower and Ellie. "Thanks for, uh, stepping in! What's your name, anyway? I'm Osman!" His excitement brought a wider smile to her face. She nodded. Osman continued. "But that was great! Seisil always tries to get money from me at lunch. I bet he won't be doing that any time soon!"
"My name's Ellie. If he gives you trouble, please let me know." Opening her Enlil Network, she sent Osman Cain an Ally request. "I should get going to class." Almost immediately she was pinged with an acceptance notification. She started to turn, but stalled; looking at the boy-at Seisil-with a frown. "Or the nurse." That was a better course of action. Thankfully, she had taken off her uniform jacket before the fight.
It was a male's uniform. She hadn't requested it, but that was the only thing that had fit her. In a way, she had come to like it; despite the odd looks it had garnered during her first year at Port Crescendo East Academy. She retrieved it, along with her half-eaten lunch; tossing the sandwich into the trash and putting on the jacket all at once. "Would you like to come with me?" Osman was lingering near her, practically bouncing. He nodded enthusiastically. "Alright," came the gentle response, "let's go, Osman."
The two of them left the courtyard quickly, Osman keeping pace with Ellie's long strides. Entering the building, she immediately was stopped. The girl before her was slight, her eyes bright and a sword in her hands. To Ellie it looked like she had meant to intervene. Perhaps looking from a window. Regardless, the girl was sizing her up. Slowly, the sword was put away.
"Elefthemia Lunaclad. Osman Cain. Seisil Stamatti," her voice was imperious, her stance one of authority, Ellie recognized her as a member of the Disciplinary Committee; her heart sinking immediately, "All of you will be penalized. Engaging in an unofficial fight on academy grounds. Detention. Come with me."
"Please inform the nurse of Seisil's condition." Ellie sighed, heavily, casting a glance at Osman. Both of them had their shoulders drooped, their eyes meeting and then trailing to the ground. The sword-girl nodded, her eyes narrow slits; disapproval and disdain apparent. She turned, motioning for Ellie and Osman to follow.
We Lunaclads fight for the weak. Steel yourself and raise your hands. Give everything, until nothing remains.
She went along without argument, turning things over. Her opponent, defeated, was on her mind. The dangerous blue streaks, the curve of his chin. How beauty could be disgusting.