Alaria leaned against a sheer cliff face, listening to falling water that was just out of sight through the forest to her right. It wasn't loud enough to drown out all other sound, but was still predominate. Her navy suit of plate mail glistened in the shafts of sunlight pouring in through the canopy, sparks of light racing along the silver embellishments and accents. She wore no helmet, so thick curls of brunette hair rippled over her shoulders, bouncing against the metal of her breastplate.
In a moment, arms clad in grey cloth reached out of her shadow against the cliff face and wrapped around her neck.
"Hello, beautiful," said a deep voice, before the arms tightened into a choke hold.
Alaria's reaction was fluid as it was instant; a dagger sprang from her high, armored boot and she jammed it between the second and third ribs of the one who seized her. She sprang away from the rock wall, spinning at the same time, and threw her arms out - one to sweep her heavy, midnight blue cloak behind her, the other to press her palm flat out toward him and focus her light into a shield around her. It glistened with her power - appearing as a golden mist encasing her body - cast a gold sheen over her, and made her hair and eyes appear to have gold flecks within them.
"Don't you get bored of this?" she asked, lowering her hand now that the shield was completed.
"Does a wolf ever tire of the hunt?" Mathias laughed as he pulled the dagger out of his ribs and tossed it aside nonchalantly. His messy black hair fell over his face, not obscuring the ruby of his eyes, and his smile was rictus. He drew his sword - a wicked item with a jagged edge made of blackened metal - and stepped toward her shining figure. His grey trench coat fluttered around his feet: it's movements were exaggerated as if the man was moving faster than he appeared. Today he had left it unbuttoned, exposing the black leather pants, silvered greaves, and the fact that he wore no shirt.
"Well, then aren't you just boring," Alaria replied, not going for the claymore sheathed on her back, passing under the cloak. "Only interested in spilling blood."
"Oh but there's such a thrill in it," he groaned, tilting his head back. A mild expression of pleasing memory flickered over his face. "The sound of life leaving the body, and the smell of fresh meat. It is exquisite."
Alaria sighed; all men were the same, even the inhuman ones. It was disheartening. Mathias' sword clashed against her mist, halting and sending a burst of sparks to the ground. Alaria didn't flinch, even as she felt heat against her stomach, where the blow should have landed.
Mathias' grin was homicidally gleeful now, and he pulled back only to assault her and her shield again and again. He searched for any weak spot, an exposed flank, but he knew he wouldn't find it. This woman's defensive abilities were more potent than her offensive ones. Something he couldn't understand, but he wanted to, so badly it hurt. He wanted to understand this strange woman.
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