IC Inbox

[ragnarsson]

Wait, so I just speak? That's how it works?...Fine...This is Ivar Ragnarsson. Do what you will.

Phone calls | Texts | Video | Everything else

Comments

[ragnarsson]

[Tch. Cheeky little scamp, isn't she? Of course, she might just be saying that to distract him. While Ivar might have things that distract him in battle, a pretty girl has never been one of them.

The last time they fought had been a long time ago. He hadn't been used to the mobility the wheelchair provided back then. Now he was much better at it. There's a harsh scraping sound of the wheels on the floor as he quickly turns the chair, almost fast enough to tip him over, but not quite. He folds the axe in closer to his body, a defensive move that can easily turn offensive again.]

[burntbridges]

[It is impressive, that by the time she's got her bearings again he's facing her and her plan of attack will no longer work. She pauses and blinks, almost in a sign of acknowledgement that he's deflected her.

It takes her a few more moments before she thinks of a new plan and moves forward, this time moving to grab his ax arm by the wrist - her plan being to use the momentum from him drawing back to pull herself around and end up behind his chair, grabbing onto the handles. Honestly, she has no idea whether that will work, but if she's learned anything from training, it's mostly been to ignore risks more than she already did.]