[His anger spikes when he sees the battle stance, the emotion fueling his muscles into a stance of his own. If he's going to challenge him to a real fight, then so be it. He'll make his stand here for as long as he can hold out.
But that's not what Xehanort really wants and he knows it. The other man is playing to kill or to, at the very least, harm Riku enough to finish what Xigbar started. He won't let that happen.
The barrage of flames doesn't surprise him. He braces himself and draws up his shield to deflect the spell. The heat licks past his shield enough to make him uncomfortable, but that matters little when Xehanort disappears. He only has time to realize the man is gone before he feels the darkness behind him. He has so little time to react that the familiar spell burns into his back and gets him shouting at the top of his lungs. The shield falls, fire licking dangerously at his fingers before it sputters out, and he staggers forward.
His body threatens to crumple beneath him from the pain and fatigue but he stays up miraculously, breathing raspy. He's not fast enough to fight Xehanort like this, not when the man's close to murdering him. It has to be now.
A Thunder spell forms in his hand and he lets it loose, the strikes bouncing between them. He doubts Xehanort will be touched; it's only meant to buy him precious seconds while he pulls forth his own darkness to form an attack, one that will be aimed for the window.]
no subject
But that's not what Xehanort really wants and he knows it. The other man is playing to kill or to, at the very least, harm Riku enough to finish what Xigbar started. He won't let that happen.
The barrage of flames doesn't surprise him. He braces himself and draws up his shield to deflect the spell. The heat licks past his shield enough to make him uncomfortable, but that matters little when Xehanort disappears. He only has time to realize the man is gone before he feels the darkness behind him. He has so little time to react that the familiar spell burns into his back and gets him shouting at the top of his lungs. The shield falls, fire licking dangerously at his fingers before it sputters out, and he staggers forward.
His body threatens to crumple beneath him from the pain and fatigue but he stays up miraculously, breathing raspy. He's not fast enough to fight Xehanort like this, not when the man's close to murdering him. It has to be now.
A Thunder spell forms in his hand and he lets it loose, the strikes bouncing between them. He doubts Xehanort will be touched; it's only meant to buy him precious seconds while he pulls forth his own darkness to form an attack, one that will be aimed for the window.]