if he had hesitated, he would've been disappointed.
it's a part of his calculation, after all, blade's ferocity and singlemindedness. where he would come from, which direction his weapon would appear didn't matter; it's all about the fact that he would simply come like a storm on a path of destruction. that, and this is the luofu, his home, his playground. his ship. there's nothing, no one who could make him fall to his knees on his own territory.
starfall reverie appears in a burst of light, ready to parry its sibling as it threatens to tear him into two. sparks fly and jing yuan's eyes flash, fingers tightening their grip around his guandao's shaft and maneuvering the weapon to repel blade to the side. a part of him is tempted to summon lightning-lord, but that level of destruction ... well.
he doesn't wish to be lectured by yukong for disrupting work. his power is enough—if not to defeat blade, then to fend him off until he's satisfied.
he doesn't wait for the next strike to come, swinging the guandao as lightning gathers along its edge. it's only polite to return the favor, right? from one friend to another. ]
in another life- another time- he would have recognized this fight for the disadvantage it was, between the glaive's longer reach and momentum. that the weight of jing yuan's blow was not something to be weathered carelessly, a fact only furthered by the heft of a weapon once forged by hands now too numb to remember the feeling of hammer and heat.
seeing it again stirs nothing but a faint recognition somewhere in the back of blade's mind as he flows with the repel, arm stinging with vibrations even in the deflect.
(and, somehow, that seems... sad.)
the thought is tossed aside, as unwanted and unneeded as a leaf twisting haplessly in the wind. he knows without seeing that jing yuan has flowed seamlessly from a block into a follow up attack. it is in the way he steps, the way his body shifts in aged grace that was so lacking those many years ago. movement refined by a grown man's precision and experience. he braces himself in the very disadvantage he knew was to come, having stepped into the other's ideal range, and catches the glimpse of lightning too late.
there is no avoiding that little bit of trickery- Jing Yuan-! as it slams into the edge of shard sword and sends an unpleasant jolt of pins and needles up his hand- numbing already leaden fingers as his stance is pushed back a step. it is unlike him to merely take a blow so head on- such a thing would have meant defeat back against his "master" after all, so that he did so now is merely testament to carelessness. that he thought he might take advantage of his curse to end this quickly.
how foolish of him. things are never so simple with this man.
it is an impasse that only weakens him, as he holds his ground and glares into those golden eyes, lightning shivering up his skin and alighting along old wounds- sparking nerves of pain. so it is against reason that he steps into the lock, pressing weight into the hold even though his is a strength that cannot match against the general's as they are, closing that already tenuous gap even just a little bit further.
if it is a matter of trickery, jing yuan is not the only one with long sleeves. pressured, the guandao's weight with the added weight of the shard sword must strain one's stance.]
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@doesntneedhealing
if he had hesitated, he would've been disappointed.
it's a part of his calculation, after all, blade's ferocity and singlemindedness. where he would come from, which direction his weapon would appear didn't matter; it's all about the fact that he would simply come like a storm on a path of destruction. that, and this is the luofu, his home, his playground. his ship. there's nothing, no one who could make him fall to his knees on his own territory.
starfall reverie appears in a burst of light, ready to parry its sibling as it threatens to tear him into two. sparks fly and jing yuan's eyes flash, fingers tightening their grip around his guandao's shaft and maneuvering the weapon to repel blade to the side. a part of him is tempted to summon lightning-lord, but that level of destruction ... well.
he doesn't wish to be lectured by yukong for disrupting work. his power is enough—if not to defeat blade, then to fend him off until he's satisfied.
he doesn't wait for the next strike to come, swinging the guandao as lightning gathers along its edge. it's only polite to return the favor, right? from one friend to another. ]
no subject
[ yes.
in another life- another time- he would have recognized this fight for the disadvantage it was, between the glaive's longer reach and momentum. that the weight of jing yuan's blow was not something to be weathered carelessly, a fact only furthered by the heft of a weapon once forged by hands now too numb to remember the feeling of hammer and heat.
seeing it again stirs nothing but a faint recognition somewhere in the back of blade's mind as he flows with the repel, arm stinging with vibrations even in the deflect.
(and, somehow, that seems... sad.)
the thought is tossed aside, as unwanted and unneeded as a leaf twisting haplessly in the wind. he knows without seeing that jing yuan has flowed seamlessly from a block into a follow up attack. it is in the way he steps, the way his body shifts in aged grace that was so lacking those many years ago. movement refined by a grown man's precision and experience. he braces himself in the very disadvantage he knew was to come, having stepped into the other's ideal range, and catches the glimpse of lightning too late.
there is no avoiding that little bit of trickery- Jing Yuan-! as it slams into the edge of shard sword and sends an unpleasant jolt of pins and needles up his hand- numbing already leaden fingers as his stance is pushed back a step. it is unlike him to merely take a blow so head on- such a thing would have meant defeat back against his "master" after all, so that he did so now is merely testament to carelessness. that he thought he might take advantage of his curse to end this quickly.
how foolish of him. things are never so simple with this man.
it is an impasse that only weakens him, as he holds his ground and glares into those golden eyes, lightning shivering up his skin and alighting along old wounds- sparking nerves of pain. so it is against reason that he steps into the lock, pressing weight into the hold even though his is a strength that cannot match against the general's as they are, closing that already tenuous gap even just a little bit further.
if it is a matter of trickery, jing yuan is not the only one with long sleeves. pressured, the guandao's weight with the added weight of the shard sword must strain one's stance.]