Letting Off Steam

[Oriena]

It got nasty quickly. Ori let it go to the wire, but she wasn’t suicidal; when she realised exactly how far the stranger would take it, and who was going to win the match, she gave herself breathing room with a blast of power. It wouldn’t escalate anything – the woman couldn’t channel, so it was unlikely she’d even know what hit her. Ori could taste blood on her own lips – for the second time in as many days as it happened, though for more mundane reasons this time. Her skin slicked with sweat, and her body already ached where it would bruise. She leaned against the post, caught her breath, and then glanced over to where the woman still lay in a bloodied mess on the floor of the ring. Half a smirk twitched her lips, thoughtful. That hadn’t been normal.

When she straightened she waved off the commotion they’d caused. The woman wasn’t unconscious, even though she wasn’t moving. Ori presumed whatever darkness had overtaken her had receded, else she’d still be shredding in feral desperation to rid herself of the gloves. Maybe she was confused, and if so Ori didn’t care to comfort it, but she did walk over, looked her entirely up and down where she lay. “Got some demons dancing in that pretty little skull,” she observed. It wasn’t said in horror. Neither was it an entreaty for explanation. But she did offer a hand to help her up.