Natasha Darkmoon and Imorii

A dark steed broke the barrier.

A white maiden stood.

Broken class and fluid was lay spilled on the grass amidst a crumpled structure.

She was waiting; expecting the horse, one that was sent by the host of a heavenly tournament. The white irises in her gaze nearly blinding the dark steed as they poured past its own and into its hollow soulless husk. No words were exchanged. She placed a single blanket atop the horse to keep her pure white robes and skin clean.

As the steed galloped forward the world she was in faded and gave way to a tall gray city. The lone lady took her sandals off the horse and approached the central feature.

From her thick pure white robes she drew two pure white long curved sabers. The glossy metal shined reflecting the glowing power of her eyes. Her skin appeared frosted white and a light fog seemed to transpire through her breath as if she was made of ice.

The length of her hair and knowledge of whether she had any other weapons remained hidden with her robes. The stage had been set as flat open turf of dry rocky hardened soil.

She said nothing.

She remained in the center of the stage with her glasslike stare.

A black portal appeared.

Imorii beat the ground with her sandals, closing the distance immediately.

As she sprinted, small white shorts could be seen under her baggy robes as they were kicked up in the wind. The hair would break free of the loose hood and be seen as short and clean cut to shoulder length. The bare shimmering pale skin of her belly and thighs would show like smooth packed snow.

First a bag erupted from the portal, adding more time to close the distance; Second the target that must be slaughtered in order for Imorii to attain her wish.

As the snowy waistline was revealed, Natasha would have a chance to see that no more than two saber sheaths were visibly attached in the belt region.

Normally invisible, magic could be seen coming from the purple and black clothed girl as she managed to cast one spell before anything could be done about it. Illusions, clones, attacks and buffs would be seen as merely different colors of magic as perceived through the glowing eyes of Imorii. This would reveal the type of spell.

Sound came out of the opponent's lips without casting magic: "So are you going to-". It was not clear how this could be used to kill. Was it foolishness, imperfection, an organic mishap dictated by the normal nature in humans? It was not something Imorii had time to learn and comprehend. No hesitation was given, perfection required Imorii not give her opponent the mercy of time to react.

So the moment she was within two feet, Imorii would appear an impressive 6'2". She would fix the blinding light of her eyes onto the mage's. Natasha's leg movement would be mirrored so that their relative distance and velocity would remain the same negating any chance to dodge while keeping Natasha slightly to Imorii's left. As the sound "-make the first move or-" was produced; down came the four foot right-handed saber, cutting down starting at 45 degrees and arching into a horizontal slash. It would come with the surge of glaring light from Imorii's eyes and intent to cut four inches off the top of Natasha's skull.

In 1/3 of a blink the attack was complete and the 2nd sword resting just below the horizontal swath of the first was making its 1/2 a blink move. It was poised advantageously to counter the assumable ducking maneuver that would most likely be Natasha's only option. If so, the left-handed blade would descend mercilessly down upon her at a 45 degree angle and slice her body in half.

Trailing white mists would be seen sparkling, following any paths the milky white crystalline blades produced, leaving a smoky residue in the air as if they were the glistening wings of a moth.