[Koltira's armor is saronite, the hardened blood of an old god. It's a rare metal, unusually tough and resilient--but by no means impenetrable. Alice's knife cuts, finds a way in. Black, hissing blood pours from Koltira's left side as he stumbles back, surprised by the sudden ferocity of Alice's assault. The busker crumples, albeit only for a second. She looks from Koltira to Alice, clutching at her throat, trying to regain her breath.
Koltira, meanwhile, recovers quickly. Base instinct rules his mind at present; reason is almost entirely chained. He does not see a young girl before him: he sees weak flesh, dark veins, excited breath. He sees vitality.
The busker hisses something about freaks once she's able to, then gets to her feet and fairly races out of the alley.
Just them, now.
Koltira draws the sword from his back. Blood continues to pour from his wounded side, trickling down his armor and smoking where it drips onto the ground.]
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Koltira, meanwhile, recovers quickly. Base instinct rules his mind at present; reason is almost entirely chained. He does not see a young girl before him: he sees weak flesh, dark veins, excited breath. He sees vitality.
The busker hisses something about freaks once she's able to, then gets to her feet and fairly races out of the alley.
Just them, now.
Koltira draws the sword from his back. Blood continues to pour from his wounded side, trickling down his armor and smoking where it drips onto the ground.]