The Fallen

Amazingly, Annabelle's headache was receding. It didn't really hurt as much to think, and her vision was slowly returning to normal. If it didn't hurt to think, she believed it wouldn't hurt as much to talk. The ice was melting to water now because of that fire, and even though water might help her head even more, she refused to take it. What if he used some sort of enchanted match to light that fire and the water was poisonous? She wasn't going to be stupid and actually fall for that.

She finally, slowly moved her hand toward her sword and took it, and used it to help her stand up. She rubbed the back of her head, still in a bit of pain from him hitting her, but knowing that she would live. Her legs were a bit shaky, but she was able to keep standing. The woman turned to look at him, noticing how he was in the shade. "What? Don't like the light?" she asked him, her voice soft and once again becoming threatening. It didn't hurt her head to talk anymore, but she wasn't going to talk in a normal volume in case noise would still hurt her.

The nephilim looked at him, her eyes narrowing like they had so many times before. She was going to have to observe his every move to try and beat him, but she didn't mind that. As long as she won in the end, she would be happy. "You ready?" she asked him, obviously wanting another fight. Annabelle wasn't going to attack him if he wasn't ready, since, after all, that wouldn't be fair.

Annabelle blinked, perplexed by his lack of weapons. He wasn't even going to use something as simple as a rock this time? That was odd. Why did he suddenly think that even though he had beat her so easily before, he didn't need anything to defend himself? The fallen angel must have become cocky since he won. She bit the inside of her lip, knowing that she would have to win this time. She glanced down at the shackles around her wrists, knowing if she didn't win against him, there was no way she could beat anyone else. Then again, she knew she was going to win this time, so she didn't have to worry.

"Fine... be an idiot..." she said. "I just hope you know what you're doing... because this time... you won't win..." No matter what, the woman couldn't allow him to defeat her in a short amount on time. Winning would be great, but she would at least be somewhat pleased with standing a chance against him.

With that being said, the half angel readied her sword, and ran at him again, her pace just the tinniest bit slower than normal. She didn't want a silly little headache to stand in her way, but some affects from it just couldn't be helped. Once Annabelle was near him, she aimed a kick for his legs and swung her sword toward his stomach.

HOW...!! Annabelle exclaimed as he kicked her ankle. He always beat her so easily, and she could honestly say she was the most ashamed of herself that she had ever been. However, this shame and defeat would only cause her to start obsessively try and improve herself. Above all, the woman hated losing... especially to a fallen angel. How could he be better than her? How could he beat her in two moves now? She had done worse than last time!

As his palm hit her wrist, her grip on her sword loosened and the weapon fell from her hand, just as he had wanted it to. The metal wrist band also cracked ever so slightly, and the nephilim desperately wanted to kill him now. If her shackles broke, she didn't know what she would do. They symbolized her cause, and she was so used to them on her that she would have been upset had they actually broken off. Luckily, it was only a small crack, and she would be able to fix it.

Before she could fall or get away (not like she would have actually left; she was far too stubborn), he had grabbed the collar of her shirt. Annabelle looked at him, not needing him to rub this in her face. But, really, what did she expect? He was a fallen angel, so he was obviously going to be cruel and gloat about his victory. She merely looked at him, locking her determined, angry, hurt, and confused gaze with his. She wasn't going to look away in fear, seeing as how she wasn't afraid of him at all.

She decided to speak. "Filth... you're cheating, aren't you?! How are you beating me so easily?!" she asked calmly, though there was an angry edge to her voice. She didn't really care if she was making assumptions, seeing as how she had accused him of cheating, because she honestly thought this was the case. "And why did your eyes and the scenery change before when you hit me?! TELL ME!! I want an answer!!"

Annabelle just couldn't face the truth that he really was stronger than her. She still believed he had cheated in some way, and she wasn't about to change her mind. Once she formed an opinion, she usually stuck with it, no matter what happened, even if she was proven wrong.

"I do not have to tell you anything about me."

The woman fell to the ground as he threw her, using her palms to catch herself. She looked away from his direction and down at the rocks and snow, silent for a while. She was shocked that he hadn't boasted about the fact that he had won, or rubbed the fact that she was weaker than him into her face. As she heard his footsteps, she could tell he was walking away, and she quickly turned her head to look at him. "Don't walk away from me!" she hissed. "I want answers and the least you could do is tell me! But then again, what was I expecting? You fallen angels live to do the opposite of what's needed..." She sighed, but refused to look away from him.

She noticed his blade, an eyebrow raising. "Why didn't you use your sword if you had it?" she inquired. She was sure it was because he thought he could beat her without it, which, of course, he had, but even so, he didn't have to be so cocky. Maybe it was a bit hypocritical to be cocky and not like it when others were, but she didn't really care.

He wasn't responding? "Should have expected that, too..." Annabelle said, referring to his silence. Again, he was doing the opposite of what was needed. She needed him to talk and answer her, and he wasn't. She rubbed her forehead, then grabbed her sword where it was laying and sheathed it. She pushed herself up into a standing position, putting her undamaged hand in her pocket while looking at the handcuff on the other one. She couldn't believe he had actually cracked it... it wasn't weak metal... it was rather odd.

The nephilim wasn't going to say anymore to him. It would be a waste of breath. She looked up, then looked back to Cleanse, watching as he walked away. She leaned against a tree, no desire to walk after him. She bit the inside of her lip in though, beginning to come up with little plots to become stronger. It was officially her goal to become as strong as him, if not stronger. She wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing he had beaten her twice.