An arm was all it took for Imenry to push Elsa away and it was infuriating. She was no warrior, she was well aware of that, but ending up flailing her arms to keep from falling stung more, than an actual wound. Stepping back slightly, Elsa huffed and frowned at Imenry. She kept her anger hidden, as she always did, but a certain frustration leaked onto her face.
Elsa did not see anyhting wrong with her dress; it was stained and worn of course, but the wool was finely woven and thick, and the skirt was wide enough to let her move with relative ease. Glancing at Imenry, she figured that a barbarian warrior woman dressed mostly in leather would not understand. Where ever Elsa came from, she decided with raised eyebrows, they had a better fashion sense.
Pushing her hair away from her face she again tried to follow what advice she got. It was not much and while Elsa was quick to find things to exploit in strangers; kindness, lust, greed or strong emotion, she found little in Imenry to hint to what her weak spot would be. She would guess anger, the way her dark eyes had flashed on their first meeting, but she didn't want Imenry to attack her so that knowledge was hardly useful.
Sighing in weariness, she studied her opponent, trying to find something, anything! that she could use. Not coming up with anything, she lifted her knife-less hand to scrub over her face delicately. She tried to push the weariness away from herself, to purge it from her body and towards Imenry instead. She didn't think it would be good for anything, indeed she was hardly aware that she was doing magic.
Moving slower this time, Elsa approached the warrior woman. Her very vague conclusion was that the huge sword she wielded had to be heavy and it's largest merit seemed to be from some distance. If she could only get close enough, so that Imenry couldn't use it against her. Pretending to aim for Imenry's shoulder, Elsa dodged the counter strike, trying to end up somewhere close enough to pose a real threat.