Blood. There’s blood everywhere. It’s soaking into clothes.
My clothes, he notes with mild disgust, Soaking into my clothes. …Well, I knew this would be messy no matter what happened.
He sighs, looking around the room. Bodies are strewn across the floor, some still moving slightly, other perfectly still. All covered in blood.
With a satisfied smirk, he steps over the bodies, heading for the throne and it’s lonely owner. He stops just before it, dipping into a low, mocking bow and asking, “Still don’t believe my power?”
There’s a moment where neither of them moves. She uses this moment to look him over, assess the damage. There’s blood drying on his face from his mouth and nose, a bruise forming on his jaw, bloodied knuckles. Just about the normal amount of damage. She absently wonders if he won this time.
He stares at her defiantly from across the room, silently daring her to say something. When she doesn