The problem with his maneuver, was that momentum was hard to stop. Trunks managed to shift just enough to get his feet under himself, as he hit the ground. Along with all the energy around him from his own aura, and whatever blasts had followed him.
It was like being at the center of an explosion, ground churned up and gravel thrown around from the concussive force as the blast made a crater. Grass flattened, their coats and her hat blown away, and Trunks in the center of the crater.
Still glowing, crouched, and with his arms crossed and braced. Mostly unscathed and unhurt thanks to his powering-up, but with definite rips and burns to his clothing. A hole over the knee, wind-sheared rips in his shirt; cloth ripped, but the man unharmed.
Wary, but also with clear concern in his voice. "Morag?"
Huge explosions, as it happened, weren't an unfamiliar peril to her. Of course, normally she had a Blade's help in protecting herself from them, but damned if she was going to let that slow her down.
The blast knocked her back, off her feet to start with, but she rolled with the impact till the raw strength in her body could take over and force herself into a slide on her boots and one gloved hand. She didn't even think about her own situation, her clothes ripped in several places where friction had shredded them and her fair skin standing out brightly against the dark uniform colors. As soon as she got bracing beneath her, she took off at a run straight back towards him, exchanging cannon for blades as she moved.
The quick recovery did impress him; he'd hoped she hadn't been badly injured and was pleasantly surprised to find she didn't seem too much so as well. Not if she was charging at him, drawing her swords anyways.
Not that his surprise was obvious as soon as it was clear what she was doing. Up out of the crater, and Trunks charged forward too. The smirk was gone, mostly so he could focus and push her more to her limits as well as his own. Striking out with a high kick once in range, before transitioning to a low punch combo.
Fully expecting her to block or dodge his strike as he did the same. Keeping them each within range of each other. If one moved further away, the other gave chase. Trunks was slowly upping his speed, while keeping the power of his strikes controlled, mostly.
Mòrag's swords flared bright with plasma as she blocked and counterstruck, dodging easily out of the way of those attacks she didn't block as she fell into a familiar dueling form. Her own hits came out stronger and with greater determination behind them as she urged herself to draw out more of his ability. All the while a smile shone on her face, the light of her blades reflected brilliantly in her eyes.
As they continued, his smirk came back--and despite sharper green-eyes, enjoyment of the challenge was seen in their depths under the intensity and focus. "I might actually be a tiny bit impressed." Teasing arrogance in his voice--nowhere near like his father or mother had.
As she'd lunged in a strike that he'd twisted away from, Trunks reversed himself quickly, hand striking up fast to grab over her own on the blade. Blocking and moving with the motion when she countered with her other blade to grab that hand too. Grip firm and he stepped into her guard.
"I could say the same," Mòrag said over her blades, not letting up on the strength behind them so he couldn't easily push her back. The plasma was roaring-hot to her, making a few sweat drops bead on her temples. What a nuisance that was! "I might still consider you a worthwhile challenge even if Brighid was here."
He wasn't trying to push her back too easily; she was strong and he was stronger and physically overpowering her wouldn't be good training for either of them now would it? "That'd be a nice bluff if I believed it." Definite cockiness in the tone. "You know what I'm like on the battlefield, and I'm holding back right now."
"And I lack a Blade," she said with a smirk. "Taking pride in standing up to a woman who's essentially unarmed?
She WAS enjoying this. Normally banter like this didn't escape her, even in a spar. Maybe she was getting too relaxed outside of Mor Ardain... but she found herself not minding too much.
"Not at all. Even without a Blade" Emphasizing the capital B on the word no less. "I don't think of you as unarmed or any less dangerous." Trunks countered, teeth visible as he smirked as normally he did not get to enjoy banter like this.
He rarely had people he could spar or train against after all.
"Even for training though, I'm holding back. Unless you'd like to try something new?"
Trunks would've actually been less surprised if she'd gone for a different area. Shifting only slightly and her knee still hit his stomach. Green-eyes widened and blinked for a second, before he laughed. Not mocking at all, more a genuine chuckling laugh from his chest.
"Like I said--dangerous and never unarmed."
It did nothing else, but inspire a rare moment of mirth and a grin.
"Hmph. All the more reason I'll spar you on Alrest someday."
She hadn't thought that would work, but... still, the hope had been there. Fine. She had to try something else. That something else took the form of her pushing up against the grip he had on her blades, then stepping in as she twisted her elbow around straight towards his cheek.
Considering that action brought her even closer, since he'd already been in her guard, in to HIS guard--there wasn't much room to move. Head tilting to the side, Trunks knew that wouldn't avoid the strike fully. Especially with their close quarters...
So he pushed back on her grip in turn and brought up his own knee towards her hip, aiming to take her up and off her balance.
Her reaction came fierce and reflexively, no meaningfully conscious thought behind it: she curled her own leg, clamping his in turn quite powerfully. If he stayed up so would she; if she went down so would he. Parity either way in her mind.
It hadn't been expected but he also couldn't blame her reaction. It was one he might've pulled himself; twisting slightly for some leverage and trying to bring his knee slightly higher. Trunks dropped slightly into a controlled fall, loosing his grip from hers and taking the advantage inside her guard to shove her own arms wide open.
Green-eyes narrowed and he continued the motion and brought his other leg up, and shoved. Hard. Even without the power and tangle of her leg around his (which would've worked for a normal person), it would've been hard to stay in close with the throw.
Straight up in the air, fast and high.
Which gave Trunks the second to spring back on his hands, and back to his feet in a crouch. And for realization to set in, green eyes widening and a curse bit off.
Just like that, her feet left the ground, and she flew upwards. Not an unaccustomed thing in and of itself -- but as the ground grew further away, she had to reluctantly acknowledge that this was, indeed, a problem. She might be sturdy enough to fall more than the average person, but not this far!
Maybe it had been the heat of the moment, both invested in the fight even if it was just sparring...
No sooner was the half-curse out of his mouth, then Trunks kicked off the ground himself. Flying up--fast--to come from underneath and catch her. Not that Morag was any kind of damsel in distress, it was just easier to catch her that way. One arm around her back and shoulders, the other under her knees, and still with startled green-eyes.
She had a surprisingly long time to run through several potential scenarios in her head -- and then suddenly Trunks was holding onto her. Carrying her, in fact, in a way she had literally never been carried. It DID feel like he was saving her, damsel-in-distress style, and she scowled at that idea.
But no. She wasn't being fair. If he'd watched her back and blocked a blow at her flank in combat, she wouldn't consider that a 'rescue'; it's part of being a team in combat. This was a different situation, but she just had to think of it in those terms and put her pride out of the way.
Once she did that... the sensation of being carried like this hit her all the harder. Relying on someone else's strength, entirely -- she actually flushed a little red at the thought.
He was saving her, but only because she couldn't fly like he could. She was only in any 'distress' because he'd accidentally put her there. If he'd had any idea of her thoughts, he would and could have reassured her for her pride that he still saw her as a skilled and dangerous warrior.
Having each other's back and helping the other was part of being a team after all.
"Sorry, shit. I didn't mean to launch you like that." Trunks meant it, and the words were out of his mouth as soon as she was in no danger of continuing-to-plummet. It was possibly the first time she had heard him actually curse; no one else on the crew had heard that yet.
Under the worry, Trunks's brain noted with amusement and approval that she hadn't dropped her swords either. They weren't radiating plasma as fiercely, but they were still in her hands. Professionalism is probably her middle name. was the stray thought.
"Well, I'm pleased you feel like I'm worth that sort of attack." She glanced away, still frowning slightly and still slightly red. Really, now, she ought to be embarrassed about feeling this is even a little pleasant. "Being knocked upwards like that is not rare in Alrest, but rarely quite so high."
"I didn't hurt you either, aside from shoving you into the air that is?" Because while he had seen that she was definitely a warrior, and sturdier than most humans, the shove had definitely had some unchecked strength in it too.
Trunks shifted her only a bit, ensuring his hold around her shoulder and back was good, and they started descending in a much more controlled manner. Trusting her to keep her weapons from interfering, it brought her closer in his arms. His mind was still too caught in damage-assessment mode to notice any embarrassment on her part.
"No, I'm just fine." Somewhat belatedly, she deactivated her blades, then shifted a little in his grip to tuck them back away. The movement demonstrated that she was both lighter than she looked, what with her uniform being a bit bulky, and also absolutely solid. She really was all muscle.
It's more she was smaller than she seemed with the uniform on, because weight was not an issue as far as he was concerned. Certainly not while powered up--which he should think about letting go of soon maybe. Her shifting made him pause and pull her a bit closer in, which is when that she was blushing fully hit him.
She might think of herself as all-muscle, but from carrying her Trunks was aware she had curves too. Lithe and lean muscle tone and slim, under fair skin that peeked through rips in her clothing. Much like his own uniform, thanks to their sparring.
His head turned up and away, although green-eyes had narrowed for a moment, nostrils flaring. Suddenly acutely aware that she was in his arms, and only blushing likely because he was still transformed. "I...uh...I get the impression any airborne threats are usually either vehicular or creatures--not individual people who fly. In Alrest..."
His adolescence hadn't exactly been normal; he knew about hormones though, and feelings. It had just hit him, that this was--again--a woman who was not his mother, or android 18. Whom was quite attractive and a fierce warrior, and he wasn't sure if this all made him uncomfortable or if he enjoyed this. Both, which was a decidedly odd sensation.
"Strictly speaking, in Alrest they are almost always both."
Casual conversation to hide confusion of her own. She had never paid attention to anyone at any time; that sort of thing would simply get in the way of her duties as Special Inquisitor. The realization that six months of very different work on a very different schedule had dulled that instinct caught her entirely unawares. And now here she was, noticing a man was actually a man, and she didn't know what to do about that.
"...I thought that might be, given what you've told us before in tactical meetings." Casual conversation was good. Distracting. Helping him try not to focus on his newfound sudden awareness. Pushing the distracting feelings aside, usually into training, had always worked before after all.
"George seemed to be the only one who wasn't surprised. By the fact that I fly. Granted, he was expecting it to be on a broomstick."
Oh good, they were almost back on the ground. Where he could let her down safely. Out of his arms, yes getting her out of his arms and not so close.
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It was like being at the center of an explosion, ground churned up and gravel thrown around from the concussive force as the blast made a crater. Grass flattened, their coats and her hat blown away, and Trunks in the center of the crater.
Still glowing, crouched, and with his arms crossed and braced. Mostly unscathed and unhurt thanks to his powering-up, but with definite rips and burns to his clothing. A hole over the knee, wind-sheared rips in his shirt; cloth ripped, but the man unharmed.
Wary, but also with clear concern in his voice. "Morag?"
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The blast knocked her back, off her feet to start with, but she rolled with the impact till the raw strength in her body could take over and force herself into a slide on her boots and one gloved hand. She didn't even think about her own situation, her clothes ripped in several places where friction had shredded them and her fair skin standing out brightly against the dark uniform colors. As soon as she got bracing beneath her, she took off at a run straight back towards him, exchanging cannon for blades as she moved.
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Not that his surprise was obvious as soon as it was clear what she was doing. Up out of the crater, and Trunks charged forward too. The smirk was gone, mostly so he could focus and push her more to her limits as well as his own. Striking out with a high kick once in range, before transitioning to a low punch combo.
Fully expecting her to block or dodge his strike as he did the same. Keeping them each within range of each other. If one moved further away, the other gave chase. Trunks was slowly upping his speed, while keeping the power of his strikes controlled, mostly.
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As she'd lunged in a strike that he'd twisted away from, Trunks reversed himself quickly, hand striking up fast to grab over her own on the blade. Blocking and moving with the motion when she countered with her other blade to grab that hand too. Grip firm and he stepped into her guard.
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She WAS enjoying this. Normally banter like this didn't escape her, even in a spar. Maybe she was getting too relaxed outside of Mor Ardain... but she found herself not minding too much.
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He rarely had people he could spar or train against after all.
"Even for training though, I'm holding back. Unless you'd like to try something new?"
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NOT for any vulnerable regions! She was aiming for his stomach!
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"Like I said--dangerous and never unarmed."
It did nothing else, but inspire a rare moment of mirth and a grin.
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She hadn't thought that would work, but... still, the hope had been there. Fine. She had to try something else. That something else took the form of her pushing up against the grip he had on her blades, then stepping in as she twisted her elbow around straight towards his cheek.
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So he pushed back on her grip in turn and brought up his own knee towards her hip, aiming to take her up and off her balance.
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Green-eyes narrowed and he continued the motion and brought his other leg up, and shoved. Hard. Even without the power and tangle of her leg around his (which would've worked for a normal person), it would've been hard to stay in close with the throw.
Straight up in the air, fast and high.
Which gave Trunks the second to spring back on his hands, and back to his feet in a crouch. And for realization to set in, green eyes widening and a curse bit off.
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No sooner was the half-curse out of his mouth, then Trunks kicked off the ground himself. Flying up--fast--to come from underneath and catch her. Not that Morag was any kind of damsel in distress, it was just easier to catch her that way. One arm around her back and shoulders, the other under her knees, and still with startled green-eyes.
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But no. She wasn't being fair. If he'd watched her back and blocked a blow at her flank in combat, she wouldn't consider that a 'rescue'; it's part of being a team in combat. This was a different situation, but she just had to think of it in those terms and put her pride out of the way.
Once she did that... the sensation of being carried like this hit her all the harder. Relying on someone else's strength, entirely -- she actually flushed a little red at the thought.
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Having each other's back and helping the other was part of being a team after all.
"Sorry, shit. I didn't mean to launch you like that." Trunks meant it, and the words were out of his mouth as soon as she was in no danger of continuing-to-plummet. It was possibly the first time she had heard him actually curse; no one else on the crew had heard that yet.
Under the worry, Trunks's brain noted with amusement and approval that she hadn't dropped her swords either. They weren't radiating plasma as fiercely, but they were still in her hands. Professionalism is probably her middle name. was the stray thought.
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Trunks shifted her only a bit, ensuring his hold around her shoulder and back was good, and they started descending in a much more controlled manner. Trusting her to keep her weapons from interfering, it brought her closer in his arms. His mind was still too caught in damage-assessment mode to notice any embarrassment on her part.
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She might think of herself as all-muscle, but from carrying her Trunks was aware she had curves too. Lithe and lean muscle tone and slim, under fair skin that peeked through rips in her clothing. Much like his own uniform, thanks to their sparring.
His head turned up and away, although green-eyes had narrowed for a moment, nostrils flaring. Suddenly acutely aware that she was in his arms, and only blushing likely because he was still transformed. "I...uh...I get the impression any airborne threats are usually either vehicular or creatures--not individual people who fly. In Alrest..."
His adolescence hadn't exactly been normal; he knew about hormones though, and feelings. It had just hit him, that this was--again--a woman who was not his mother, or android 18. Whom was quite attractive and a fierce warrior, and he wasn't sure if this all made him uncomfortable or if he enjoyed this. Both, which was a decidedly odd sensation.
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Casual conversation to hide confusion of her own. She had never paid attention to anyone at any time; that sort of thing would simply get in the way of her duties as Special Inquisitor. The realization that six months of very different work on a very different schedule had dulled that instinct caught her entirely unawares. And now here she was, noticing a man was actually a man, and she didn't know what to do about that.
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trynot to focus on his newfound sudden awareness. Pushing the distracting feelings aside, usually into training, had always worked before after all."George seemed to be the only one who wasn't surprised. By the fact that I fly. Granted, he was expecting it to be on a broomstick."
Oh good, they were almost back on the ground. Where he could let her down safely. Out of his arms, yes getting her out of his arms and not so close.
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