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Pandora Montgomery (pandacharms) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Something in the air told Pandora the shield was coming, probably the sweeping compression of air, and she allowed it to press her back into another backwards roll. Her feet felt warm and she knew she'd missed something, but she'd deal with it as it came.

She was rather wishing her regular dueling outfit wasn't at the very bottom of her trunk. However, she'd make do without rhe spelled robes. She rolled back to her feet and shot several spells his way with her staff, aimed seemingly willy-nilly; some went with hot little burns at various body parts, some fizzed out near his feet, looking much like a firework. Her left hand drew the DisIllusioned knife from the belt that left her usually only to sleep.

The blade, held back against her forearm, reached about three quarters of the length of it. Instead of backing away from his blade, she stepped more into the attack, for it was slow and even if it did cut her around her own blade it wouldn't be bad, and he had no real time to add more momentum to it. Pain didn't frighten her; a year of Cruciatus had taught her to disassociate to an almost dangerous degree. The butt of her staff swung toward his gut in a short, hard move.

Dora almost missed the surge of his shield scooping around her. She barely popped her own shield around her and sent a surge of magic out before his closed, distracted for half a second by her hot feet. She Banished her shoes with a thought and pressed on her magic in her shield, shoving his with her and pressing forward. She sheathed her knife and drew her wand, sketching a rune in the air and pressing it through her shield onto his, an inverted Algiz, the opposite of protection.

She'd gotten the idea at the beginning of her apprenticeship six months ago, and she'd only experimented with Master Flitwick a few times, but it had a corrosive quality to such spells, though she had no good datum on how long it would take to help her break shields of others yet. She smiled sharply and pushed on, being the distraction while the magic she'd thrown previously sprouted and whipped around at his extremities, a rather virulent and very short lived poison ivy spell she'd invented for a duel in Romania where she'd won against a vicious bastard who'd put her in the hospital the previous time they'd duelled. There was still a dull throb in her feet, and she just then noticed some blood sheeting down, making her wand a bit slick. He was wearing her down, but her day at work had been long as well. She hated knowing she'd probably lose, but at least it would be a learning experience.