DMG: <********>," Chrysocolla shrieked as Arsenopyrite dragged her down together, and for half-a-second if he'd grabbed her hair instead she could have thought - it didn't matter, it didn't matter - she landed half on top of him and her arms hurt, so badly, she'd landed on them as she'd fallen in that instinctual attempt to land with weight on her hands instead of her face.
It was agonizing to push herself up, but there was an easy way to end this, the same thing she'd done to Pyrophanite: Chrysocolla put both hands on Arsenopyrite's throat and squeezed. This match needed to be over as soon as possible, even if it was cruel and he'd done nothing much to bother her besides be a competent fighter - she needed the break, she needed to be out of this ring right now.
SSBrosB
