cold and bitter

He's light on his feet, and Cy can't help but be impressed. There was something strange about him, the way he moved, and it's enough to really catch her attention. He doesn't fight like any of the berserkers, the brawlers that she's become accustomed to out here. As much as she's a wraith, so is he-- their builds match, and he seems to understand how best to make use of it. Flexible, light... she'd need to take a page from his book after all the dust had settled. With renewed intensity, she studies her opponent as they engage each other.

The man moves to use the momentum to his advantage, and Cy would do her best to start gaining her own. Don't slow, don't stop-- that's the way she gets herself out of this. That's the way she gets herself arguably deeper into this fight. With a rakish grin, she takes the hit, doing her best to remain relaxed instead of bracing for the strike. As the man connected, Cy made to grab at his lowered head. The scruff of his neck, the back of his skull, anything she could find purchase upon. Snapping teeth, glimmering in the sunlight, and then Cyanide trying to remain in motion. A delicate balance, one that she needed to fight to maintain. Already she could feel the soreness blooming in her ribs, knowing that it would be bruised.

At least she'd earned it.
"speech"