Xarakas had seemed polite before, but now Asha began to wonder if aloof or unapproachable were more apt terms for her new instructor, whose arms she found her eyes drawn to as he rolled up his sleeves.
Stop that, she chided herself, lifting her eyes back to his face and soon finding herself snorting in amusement at his words, crossing her arms.
"With all due respect, I'm not a defenseless damsel. I've had self defense training in the past. My father may be protective, but he isn't stupid. He didn't want me defenseless. I'm not here to learn how to punch properly from you. We're here because while I have some experience, combat is still a point of weakness, and demons submit to power, not reason. I need you to help me become someone who can keep Hell in line one day," she explained.
"And my last instructor would laugh if she heard you talking about combat and etiquette, by the way. She'd argue fighting dirty is the only way to fight."
Xarakas raised an eyebrow as she claimed that she was not a defenseless damsel in need of learning how to throw a punch but was rather in need of combat training to allegedly control the masses and prove her worth.
"I see..." he murmured, pausing as if to consider her before he moved, fast, stepping forward to punch her hard once in the jaw and once in the stomach before he moved again to dodge whatever attempt at retaliation she threw at him, pacing slowly around her as he studied her.
"If your last instructor truly taught you anything worthwhile, you would have been able to block those hits, or at least graze me with one. So in my eyes, Princess, you're still a defenseless damsel hiding behind your title and big words to keep you safe."
The punches came hard and fast, leaving Asha doubled over with the taste of blood in her mouth. Knowing better than to sit around feeling sorry for herself though—and assuming this was some sort of test—she righted herself quickly to return the favor.
But her hits only glanced air.
Her eyes were bright as Xarakas spoke, their blue-silver hue seeming to crackle like ice. Her easy-going stance had disappeared, body clearly tense now that she knew how fast he could move, and without realizing it, she'd adopted a semi-defensive stance, shifting to keep him in sight as he circled her.
"You won't be saying that for long," she promised. She was a fast learner, especially when determined.
Xarakas wouldn't say he was impressed—that was too kind a word—but he was surprised when she righted herself so quickly, adopting a defensive stance, even if it was a poor one.
At least she had spirit.
"Oh?" he challenged, continuing to circle her for a bit longer before he moved as if he were going to hit her in the face again.
At the last moment, he dropped, sweeping his leg out to kick her legs out from under her before quickly moving back up to grab the back of her shirt before she could hit the ground, letting her hover a moment before letting her drop.
"That stance is pathetic. A child could knock you over," he scolded, stepping back to continue circling her, assuming she'd get up again given how angry she seemed.