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Someone else was currently out doing laps as well, and had for quite some time managed not to realize she wasn't alone. This was because their pace kept them, for a long time, almost opposite each other, but Peyton had been focusing on cardio for sometime now, even before Deus, and her casual pace was just a little bit faster then the young man whose legs were twice as long as her own. Eventually Jack's back came into view, but Pey didn't recognize the giant of a Life trainee until she'd closed the gap a little more. When she did realize who's a** she was creeping up on a cold sneer twisted along pink lips, and she put on an extra little burst of speed. Closing that distance and going past him.

There was something satisfying about passing someone that was almost twice as tall as you were. Even more so if there happened to be a grudge, even if only one sided. Peyton passed him, head turned so she could catch his eye, lips twitching up in an unpleasant smile, then she was gone, pulling ahead and recreating that distance between them.

She didn't consider the fact that her bond with her weapon lent her speed. Jordan had said there would be perks as time went on. Better healing, increased strength. Abstractly she knew to expect it, but it was such a gradual, natural change that she hadn't noticed it.

Peyton heard when he increased his pace. Heard the heavy percussion of foot falls as he sped up to keep up with her, and she smiled to herself. The greeting actually managed to make her smile wider, and she held up a hand in a halfassed sort of wave. "My bad, good morning." Three fingers and a thumb curled down to leave standing in the middle, then she was pushing forward again. If you could talk then you weren't going fast enough, so Peyton went faster.

<Aren't you being a little petty?> Warrick sounded more amused then anything else.

Point?

<None, make him eat your dust, Halfpint.>

Gladly

Apparently even at her current speed she could talk, though her voice was a little breath as she yelled back to him. "Sweety I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no comparison." It was almost startling to realize that a lot of the anger she'd been holding onto didn't really mean much anymore. Too much had happened since then, changed, and her shoulders were just too thin to support all that baggage. So she let a lot of that anger go, though she held onto the rivalry, the desire to show him up. To forcibly remove that cocky smile from his smug face.

So Peyton made up her mind, and she slowed her pace, veering off to the right and towards the patched up grass that covered the training field. And she tossed a challenging grin over her shoulder at the giant of the Lifer as she summoned Warrick to her hands.

That's when she stopped, startled by the feel of the weapons in her hands. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Heavy metal still circled her fingers, and Peyton squeezed her fingers around those warm rings as she examined new lengths of long, thin blades that projected opposite the shorter ones. Glowing runes running along shining metal, and the now familiar weight of the lock and chain that wrapped around her left hand. A pale brow rose.

Lookit you getting all bad a**. I was wondering if you were ever going to change.

<Better later then never, Halfpint. > A loud bark of a laugh filled her head, and Peyton echoed it before turning to face Jack.

<Are you ready for round two, Shorty?>

Always.

"Nothing would make me happier," she countered mildly, smiling sweetly up at him as she moved her hands, testing the weight of the wicked little blades in her hands.

She was stronger now, faster. Her arm was healed. Something was different alright.

Giant ******** swords, Peyton's favorite.

The blade came at her with all the force expected of the giant. Hard and face, the blade cut across her arm and hip, pushed her back. For a second it made her pause, but Warrick was there, a calming heat in her mind, and that sure smile rolled back over pink lips before she darted forward to return the blow.

It was strange having blades on both sides, but it allotted new opportunities. She went for his arm, the hand holding his sword, slashing at his knuckles, up his wrist and towards his elbow. Tearing into his shield as the wrath demon drank in the fear.


HP: 41
DMG: 7
CHG: 1/3 | 0/2

The girl merely grinned, and it was everything that had been missing the last time. The doubt was gone, the soft flinch of pain from an old injury, gone. She smiled at him and those thin shoulders rolled in a noncommittal little shrug to his needling question. "Eh."

Curls flew as she streaked forward again, feinting to the left before digging her toe into the dirt to jerk right. The curve of he blade slide across his hip, wrapping around towards the small of his back as she pivoted. She wanted to hurt him. Not seriously, not permanently, but he'd bruised her pride, and she was eager to repay him. To leave some bruises of her own.

"You're slower then you were last time," she mused, voice almost sugary.


HP: 38
DMG: 8
CHG: 1/3 | 0/2

He twisted, and she lifted her hands up to block, catching the bad between knuckles to slow it down, steal it's power. When it did hit her it was softer for her effort, but still stung. However wincing was not a satisfaction she wanted to grant him, so instead that smile lingered. That same, sugary sweet, confident smile. Dripping in condescension. "I don't have to prove anything to you." Except, perhaps, that she did. Some chipped little corner of her pride wouldn't settle until she had put the trainee in his place. So smug, so infuriatingly cocky. It went beyond confidence.

As the broad length of the giant's blade dropped, Peyton was closing that gap again. Small and agile, it let her get close, it let her take advantage. The curved blade in her left hand sank into the side of his chest, and seconds later the right followed on the opposite side. Driven to the hilt, bruising against the muscled chest. And just before she tore them out she twisted, dainty wrists turning with more strength then they should have held.

When she jerked back she was grinning, a expression of modest pride resting comfortably on delicate features. "Oh, you know. Can't brag."

She liked to believe that even before the promotion, before the realization of a closer bond with her weapon, she'd have beaten him in a fair fight. The Tournament had not been fair, not really. Not with her arm nothing but a useless diversion, devoid of any real strength. It would have been nice to test the theory, but now they would have to wait until Jack did something to make himself worthy of a higher rank. Then they could face off on equal footing again, and then maybe they would know who was better.

Even if only one of them really cared.

HP: 33
DMG: 12
CHG: 2/3 | 0/2