So it had come to this.
Heping slowed her breath so it would not be a distraction to the world around her. Durotar, just outside the prison encampment. The air was still and hot, heavy with dust from the rock and sand. Scorpids skittered not too far from where she stood, but just far enough that the incoming storm would not touch them.. perhaps. And in front of her stood him. Tall and battle-ready, he looked dashing as ever in the black-brown leather armor that bore scars that told stories of his previous encounters. Beneath his mask, however, she knew he no longer bore the same smirk he used to.
" Fengdao. "
" Bow when you are ready. "
His words lacked the humor that she had remembered of him, and replaced it with dripping venom. But of course. After all, today, only one of them would walk away alive. She stared straight into his eyes as she clasped her palms together, locking onto his gaze as they both lowered their bodies forward in a bow of respect. But it was a facade, an illusion. Neither of them saw honor in each other. It was, at this point, only a dare, to see who would leave an opening.
Her eyes closed, and she bowed her head to face the ground.
She heard his blade leave his belt, leaving a sharp whistle as it tore through the very air. In the same instant she heard his feet leave the ground, she pushed both palms forward. The winds howled, picking up sand and rock from behind and around her as it ripped through the Durotar plains toward Fengdao. She could hear his steel and the sharp, powerful kicks of his foot as he maneouvered through the storm - she knew this alone would not stop him. But she would.
Heping kept her eyes closed as the storm circled around her, knowing full well that sight was practically useless here. That is, unless one had the eyes of a fox. A fox that held his two blades like a whirlwind of steel, cutting through rock and sand and wind as he found his way closer to her amidst the maelstrom. A fox that needed far more attention.
Rocks. Durotar's stones were nothing more than debris to the common peon or warrior, but in the midst of the billowing winds, they were her missiles; her arrows. They whirled around her and shot forth, striking in one, two, several directions as she tracked every leap she heard him make, every whirl of his dervish blades. There. No, there. No, there, there, and there; no -
A different whistle cut through the air, like a stray arrow in her direction. The winds would've caught it, unless... the gusts whipped around her legs and body, tugging her aside in the split second it tore through her previous location. A hiss escaped her lips as she felt its energy. Chi. But of course; Fengdao was no ordinary warrior. No..
