[05] Mountain Sector FIGHT

[DA 2009]

SAGE VS. TAMSIN

Amazing how much things change, the more they stay the same. At the very core, the two young girls could never be anything than what they were at heart. Despite the desires that drove them, Sage was no cold-blooded killer, and neither was Tamsin. The irony of the fates that had befallen them was not lost on either woman. The difference simply lied in what was stronger: fighting for another, as Tamsin was doing, or fighting for yourself, as Sage was doing.

Tamsin doggedly tried to regain control of her composure, panic filling her lungs and spurring her heartbeat to an almost painful staccato. Sage lurked about somewhere in the mist, like a beast in the bushes poising to strike its prey. Perhaps one thing that would be lost on both of them was the tainted innocence of the opponents. They could truly see it in themselves, the horrible monsters they’d been molded into, but could they see it in the other? Tamsin gripped the remainder of her seemingly unlimited supply of knives, knowing that throwing them at this point was a foolish maneuver. Not only would she likely miss but she would have a much more difficult time locating them once they left her hand. Still, the advancement of her skill in such a short amount of time felt almost incredulous.

Sage stood on the edge of the mist, hovering just out of Tamsin’s sight. She watched as the illusions and sparkles danced before the Servus maid, somehow unable to push herself over the edge and commit to the kill she knew was hers. The situation simmered thickly with irony as the ice witch painfully recalled that the employment of this method merely repeated the manner of the master’s demise. Was it the means that mattered, or the end? That struggle continually raged within the doctor that had given her oath to save life, to protect it.

Tamsin settled herself, bringing about the calm instilled in her mind just before her mental visit with Enroshia. She set her eyes towards each illusion of Sage, fighting back the horror within. Any one of them could be the mistress of cold, and she couldn’t afford to be taken off guard at such a crucial moment.

Sage allowed her Chillrend to recede. Even if it wasn’t real, even if Tamsin would be alive at the end, she couldn’t do this. Not if she ever wanted to put the mosaic back together again. Instead, she allowed the ice encasing her badly burned hand to dissipate, and hissed a bit as the sensation of pain returned to the horribly injured extremity.

The maid’s eyes caught a sudden movement seconds before a flash of blue hair and gray sweater collided with her. She flicked her knives up, but before she could inflict a deadly or even wounding strike, Sage’s fingers enclosed about her wrists. Tamsin gasped; they were like ice. Sage flinched, feeling indescribable agony shooting up her arm as her burn became aggravated by contact with flesh. A chill crept up Tamsin’s appendages, and the skin around her wrist quickly reddened. Her fingers grew numb, trembling, until the knives fell from her loosened grasp. Tamsin struggled, valiantly, but could not break the hold. It was so cold…so cold…

Eventually, the reddened skin turned to black, and spread to the girl’s hands. Eventually, she couldn’t feel anything past her elbows. At last, Sage released, stepping back into the ether. The icy mist dissolved, leaving a clear mountain background once again. The maid’s arms fell uselessly to her sides; the level of frostbite on her hands and wrists ensured that she would never be able to use them again. Bits of skin had actually loosened as Sage’s fingers let go. Fairly soon, infection would set in. The doctor already knew that the extremities would have to be amputated. Sage stared into the girl’s eyes, and Tamsin suddenly realized what she knew.

“I’ll die,” the maid said matter-of-factly. “How can I defend myself without my hands? Even if you spare me like Sophia did, the next person might not be so nice.”

She didn’t even know why she was saying this. After all, they’d been trying to kill each other, and both had sworn to win.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sage replied clumsily. The hybrid’s thoughts quickly collapsed into relenting her decision; after all, she did have the power to heal. Sage formed a protective brace of ice around her burned hand once more, and moved towards Tamsin to correct the damage she’d done. She didn’t even know if she could reverse the serious level of necrosis, but she could try…even if she fainted in the process.

Tamsin, however, interpreted her actions differently. She saw them as hostile, the blue-haired woman coming to finish what she’d started. She remembered her knives still on the ground, and knew that now was her chance—her only chance—to tap into her power. The servant didn’t need her hands to finish the job. Tamsin willed the knives into the air, a puppeteer perfectly controlling the strings. Her elation at finally using her technique nearly eclipsed her desire to win. Sage saw the threatening motion and stopped.

“Don’t,” the doctor said, warningly, pleadingly. “Don’t do it.”

Tamsin sent forth the first knife, so fast that Sage couldn’t even stop it as it buried into her shoulder, soaking her brand new turtleneck with a stream of blood. The second knife launched in a similar fashion, the point just inches away from Sage’s heart. The doctor’s torso encrusted in a layer of ice, proving just barely enough to deflect the pointed weapon as it shaved off a few chunks before clattering harmlessly to the ground. Once more, her reflexes proved to be stronger than her own will, and a web of Frostroots erupted from the ground. They didn’t miss.

Tamsin felt herself being lifted off the ground from the force of the impalement, and couldn’t even formulate the words to describe the sensation of death as it slowly took its toll on her skewered body. The last words to escape her lips were…

“I’m sorry, Maleficus. I tried. I really did.”