Breaking her footing had created a window of opportunity, and one Vayne knew he would have to seize quickly. Even reeling against the bed, Tifa's eyes seemed to blaze, like a wildfire a whisper away from flashpoint. So there was no pause of self-satisfaction, no appreciative smirk, no twitch of a raven-black eyebrow. There was no pause at all.
There was only her, him, and the hands he would use to vanquish her.
One stroke. As the falcon takes its prey.
The instant that his striking foot returned to the carpet, Vayne pushed off it, and lunged at Tifa in a motion that was more grappler than pugilist. One palm knifed toward her shoulder in a straightforward pin, easy enough to bat aside - while the other arm swung before him as though he were bringing a shield to bear, not to deliver a blow but with the intent instead to lock itself against her throat, force her head down, and lay all the pressure of that arm on her carotid. His own weight would do the rest.
Success would see Tifa pinned underneath him on that bed of kings. And if that were not enough to daze her, the intensity of the stare this would bring her face-to-face with just might.
no subject
There was only her, him, and the hands he would use to vanquish her.
One stroke. As the falcon takes its prey.
The instant that his striking foot returned to the carpet, Vayne pushed off it, and lunged at Tifa in a motion that was more grappler than pugilist. One palm knifed toward her shoulder in a straightforward pin, easy enough to bat aside - while the other arm swung before him as though he were bringing a shield to bear, not to deliver a blow but with the intent instead to lock itself against her throat, force her head down, and lay all the pressure of that arm on her carotid. His own weight would do the rest.
Success would see Tifa pinned underneath him on that bed of kings. And if that were not enough to daze her, the intensity of the stare this would bring her face-to-face with just might.