There is indeed a great deal to observe about how Ardyn fights, even if Ignis cannot devote all of his attention completely to the man - not if he wants to hold his own in the fight as well as he dips in amidst the group of bandits. Although it certainly helps that they all focus on Ardyn's more...
...lively violence.
One down. Another as he's turning to to the sound of it. Still a few more left, converging on Ardyn. A quick fight - most fights actually are.
Especially in a match where the scales are far from balanced.
It all happens so quickly. One of the fallen bandits drops a sword, and it's in Ignis's hands in the blink of an eye. Ardyn has one of them cornered, at least so it seems, and so Ignis pushes forward. Grabs his chance. Takes out the last bandit from behind, twists lower, swings the sword. Aims for Ardyn's tendons as he takes out the last bandit.
If it hits, surely it will bring him to the ground... but it's fine.
Whether it hits or not, Ignis is right there at his back to keep him upright.
That, and the sword sinking back through that ragged coat of his, through skin, muscles, angled to where a man's heart should be.
Ignis does not press their bodies together completely; he doesn't want to get more blood than is necessary all over his clothes. But still he braces his shoulder against Ardyn's back, just enough, while his sword hand stays free where it is. The glove should keep away any blood from his skin or sleeve. "There we go," he murmurs, twisting the blade from where it presses straight in, straight through. Grind flesh against blade, even if the effort aches. His free hand digs past all the layers of cloth to find the closest to Ardyn's actual body, fingers pressing in to keep him in place. "You've done very good, I will admit. So lets put you to rest, now."
Permanently.
With the hit confirmed, he pulls the blade out, and makes to kick Ardyn down to the floor.
no subject
...lively violence.
One down. Another as he's turning to to the sound of it. Still a few more left, converging on Ardyn. A quick fight - most fights actually are.
Especially in a match where the scales are far from balanced.
It all happens so quickly. One of the fallen bandits drops a sword, and it's in Ignis's hands in the blink of an eye. Ardyn has one of them cornered, at least so it seems, and so Ignis pushes forward. Grabs his chance. Takes out the last bandit from behind, twists lower, swings the sword. Aims for Ardyn's tendons as he takes out the last bandit.
If it hits, surely it will bring him to the ground... but it's fine.
Whether it hits or not, Ignis is right there at his back to keep him upright.
That, and the sword sinking back through that ragged coat of his, through skin, muscles, angled to where a man's heart should be.
Ignis does not press their bodies together completely; he doesn't want to get more blood than is necessary all over his clothes. But still he braces his shoulder against Ardyn's back, just enough, while his sword hand stays free where it is. The glove should keep away any blood from his skin or sleeve. "There we go," he murmurs, twisting the blade from where it presses straight in, straight through. Grind flesh against blade, even if the effort aches. His free hand digs past all the layers of cloth to find the closest to Ardyn's actual body, fingers pressing in to keep him in place. "You've done very good, I will admit. So lets put you to rest, now."
Permanently.
With the hit confirmed, he pulls the blade out, and makes to kick Ardyn down to the floor.