[CRP] A fight worth almost dying for

[Bill]

A day after the more or less scandalous events at the tavern and Zuan absolutely exploding, Bill had got a challenge to duel. Not from Zuan though, but from her sister Ambrosia. Bill had never seen Zuan so furious. Which made him cackle time to time by himself. He and Ambrosia had managed to crack Zuan's patience,

poked him one too many times. Now that was an achievement to remember.
Bill had his own theories about Zuan's fears and what not, but that was irrelevant for the time being.

Bill stood self-assured at the other side of the arena of the town of Imperius. Unarmed, if his fists doesn't count. He was practicing these two of his to fight. He had already mastered the staff and the sword as weapons.

Bill was waiting for Ambrosia to arrive. She so evidently wanted to kill Bill, because of the latest events in the tavern.
Bill was wearing his usual armor, a basic leather helmet with leather necklace and a rose as an accessory then a golden plate and under that a third hand quilt and a leather ring.

He didn't bother to cover his legs that much, just a plain pair of tailored leggings did do the trick to cover the necessary.
All that was kept together with a gold belt that was tightly around his waist.

In his feet he had golden boots.
Hopefully Ambrosia would be intimidated or at least blinded by Bill's fashionable suit.

Bill thought of every possible outcome he could imagine. How hard would beating princess really be? Does it even know which end of a sword to hold?
Bill chuckled at the thought.

[Ambrosia]

The words he spoke before the fiasco could have been compared to sugar coated acid. She was already forewarned by someone that the spirit was indeed telling lies to her. The decision Zuan had waited for belonged to her sister, and not to her. Yet she performed her part unwittingly well. She knew of the game, but since the very beginning her concentration had been on a new found grudge against Bill. If one knew her well enough, they knew she held grudges worse than a poltergeist. In fact, he played perfectly in her words the night before their engagement. If he lied to her, she would surely kill him. Her little outburst and proclamation that she would kill him, was in reality the calm before the storm.

Just as soon as she sent the challenge, she met up with Aingeal. Ambra honestly couldn't comprehend how hard was it to kill a spirit? As the night lingered on she had realized how complicated it might turn out. It took just a few seconds out of her day for the doubt to start whispering it's verses into her brain. What if she just roared herself into her own death? She neared the arena, and already locked the arrow in place. A sword? She knew how to wield one, but not well. Not hard to remember you stick someone with the pointy end. Aingeal was nice enough to lend her a few things for her battle attire.

Bill wasn't the only one wearing gold. The gold helmet made her feel mildly uncomfortable, because she felt it was an instant signal she was there. She might as well paste a parchment with a ink drawn arrow in the direction of her face.The pieces of gold article he had chose clashed with her majority leather material. The sparkle of his armor only helped her make her first move. Without a word she fired the arrow with certainty towards the blinding apparel in front of her. The duel had started, and there was no retraction enabled. Blue hues watched him as a predator would their prey. The mind over analyzed and broke down his fashionable wardrobe.

"Bill." She regarded icily and squinted her eyes from the light. First rule of combat was to not get distracted by the shiny attributes. Second rule of combat was the most known, and that was to never underestimate one's opponent. Especially, if their name was Ambrosia and/or Winterbourne. As quickly as the bolt sailed in his direction, her fingers spun the second arrow into place. The residue at the tip matched the light of his boots, but the contents on the edge of the weapon were divine in nature. The content tickled her nose even from underneath the helmet. Something she had to ignore completely, because death by sneeze didn't fit her well enough to be on a tombstone.