Heated Clash Between Phoenix and Firecracker - Blaise vs Audrey

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

Without being able to read Blaise's mind, Audrey could not confirm that he was spot-on. But she likely didn't need to. Everyone in the room could see she was being backed into a corner, and her avenues of escape were being more limited by the second. And cornered animals, especially nervous ones, tended to lash out.

Blaise had seen it, too. The way his eyes followed her leg as she kicked out told her he'd recognized it, but wasn't fast enough to do more than brace and endure it. Good. If Audrey could keep that agility advantage, she had a fighting chance. And so she took a more daring avenue of attack to follow it up.

But it turned out that while speed wasn't an issue, power still was. She quickly found Blaise's arms wrapped around her in an awkward hug, his foot bracing him enough to absorb her slam and turn the momentum against her in an instant!

A gasp of surprise was all she had time to respond with... because he didn't intend to crush the life out of her in his grasp. Instead, he fell back, flipping her over! She'd maintained enough airtime to not land square on her head or neck, but the collision on her shoulders wasn't any less painful. She managed to roll with the momentum to her side and rise to a knee, but that was as far as she got before the pain spiked in her neck, and she had to pause to wince and rub at it, lips lightly parted with a hiss of frustration and pain. She rolled her left shoulder to help massage the ache away.

The good news is that the whole spectacle created a fair bit of space between them again, giving her a little time to see what he was going to do... and, perhaps more importantly, recover a bit. She knew herself by now enough to know she couldn't take many more heavy blows like that, especially to the head.

But while she remained there, down on one knee and steadying her breathing, one thought kept circling her mind that she couldn't shake - he had let her go. Well, in the loosest sense of the word, anyway. But most of the time, her opponents kept her close and bent her out of shape right from the start. Maybe it was nothing, but in her world, it was noteworthy. A curiosity to keep her eye on. And another thought to keep from being entirely distracted by.

She sent Blaise another glare while waiting to see what he would do next as he picked himself up. So far, they'd learned that she could move quickly, and that he could counter her. So by baiting him into acting while she appeared winded, she'd hopefully learn how he moved instead, and perhaps more importantly, if she could counter him, too.

[CyanDimitrik]

For once, it was actually an accident. Not letting her go, but rather the intent behind it. He figured the crash would be rougher if it landed in a sort of flung freefall; the idea being to toss her around the ring, to wear her out by having to manually reorient herself. It wasn't meant to be sporting or nice! That was just... a happy coincidence?

That coincidence being Blaise really doesn't mean her any malice or abuse. This is a sport first, and... well, whatever kind of grappling Tindr people turn it into second! The fact that it came with PoW rules with a feisty, fiery ginger certainly lends to the idea, and he's assuredly not complaining, but when he quickly rights himself after the toss and sees her collecting herself in turn? He sees a person. A person with a love of a sport and a heated determination. Someone's daughter. Maybe someone's sister. It's never been in him to be deliberately hurtful.

Win, yes.

Humiliate and ruin, no.

That said, however... she's proven to be pretty squirrely. He can't let up on her now, while she appears to be trying to recover on one knee, glaring at him like he's the thing standing between her and eternal glory, he makes his move. He launches into a three-step sprint from the right leg. Each loping stride pumps the momentum, until after the third, his feet don't even touch the mat. His body has turned horizontal, a lateral missile racing the remainder of the distance set on a boots-first collision course with the redhead's chest in a dropkick.