damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, |
Before Damia could manage a Shell, the Thundara slammed into her, mere moments after she'd finally returned to her feet. As the electricity hit her, but mostly importantly her weapon, the one still gripped in hand, she staggered, a quiet fuck slipping from her lips. Her weapon had good steel, but it didn't stop the electricity from licking its way through her body.
Breathing hard, the blonde shook her head, watching as the electricity jumped between her fingers before disappearing. Her side was bleeding, the pain was spiraling, and she didn't care-- she was moving instinctively. The Darkra couldn't hit her from where she'd stood, quite a handful of paces behind, but something disgusting and filthy still raised the hairs on her arms, along the back of her neck.
Her jog became a short, awful sprint as she made for the hulking suit of armor, waiting until its legs were spread just wide enough for her to make a clean, practiced slide through to the other side in a move that might've been impressive, if not for the smear of blood (which had probably helped with the slide) she left behind and the gasp upon rolling back to standing.
The chance of her hitting the weak spot was low. Horrendously low. But it was still a chance nonetheless. Sucking in a deep breath, Damia grit out a pained Down, boy before throwing all of her weight into a thrust. If she missed, she'd be done for. It'd grab her, crush her bones, unable to swing its blade this close, but there still--
Her steel caught in something beneath the chest plate. Caught and didn't release. There was no time to be surprised, not even relieved, as a massive hand picked her up-- and the next thing she knew, her body was flying and soon connecting with the nearest wall, a horrible crunch (ribs, had to be) paralyzing her body once she hit the ground like a limp doll.
At the very least, now X marked the spot.