[ As quickly as she'd leapt aside Chane nearly staggers back, the staccato of her heels across the floorboards a giveaway for the freely-carried weight that dictates the movement of her feet. This is completely different to fighting somebody with a gun, long-range as both weapons are. Maria's movements feel long, sound long with the unmistakeable ring of air giving way for each blade, a strange enough phenomenon that it bewilders Chane as soon as the realisation hits her, makes her eyes widen then in reaction to the points aimed towards her again.
Rather than flatten herself against the wall her steps lead her back, back further down the hallway until touching her tailbone to the flat of the doorknob of the door at the end seems imminent, and there she decides; she cannot only run away. The only audible expression of such a thought comes with the distinct sparking of metal, the flats of her blades colliding with Maria's swords, the large, solid hilts of each knife and the twisting motions outwards all that exist to protect her thumbs being sliced clean off by the longer blades. ]
no subject
Rather than flatten herself against the wall her steps lead her back, back further down the hallway until touching her tailbone to the flat of the doorknob of the door at the end seems imminent, and there she decides; she cannot only run away. The only audible expression of such a thought comes with the distinct sparking of metal, the flats of her blades colliding with Maria's swords, the large, solid hilts of each knife and the twisting motions outwards all that exist to protect her thumbs being sliced clean off by the longer blades. ]