Completely aware of the fact that she was tangled with someone far, far stronger than she, Kalesse did the best she could to brace herself for the returning swings that the man beneath her would inevitably make. The hand that collided with her forearm jarred her, though she held steady lest his strength won over hers and pried the dagger from his through. For the moment, the blade stayed, though it’s tip now barely held contact with his skin.
Snarling in frustration, Kalesse held his gaze and leaned forward so that her body no longer balanced over his prostrate form but rather leaned fully onto the arm held the dagger so close to his neck. Her only hope was to tire him again before he got the upper hand. The quiet, intense anger in his eyes told her what would happen then.
“I make my decisions. You have to live with your own. They are of no consequence to me. I have to-“ Spitting the words and putting as much venom as she could behind them, Kalesse didn’t see the hand that fell towards her, cutting off her words and her breath in the same crushing grip, if only for a moment. The blood made his hold slick, and not as firm as it could have been, allowing little gasps of air to slip by before Gideon managed to securely fasten his fingers around her throat.
Seeming to think better of her decision, Kalesse tried to surrender, moving her hand just as much as Gideon's grip would allow and dropping the dagger beside them both; it was a risk she was going to have to take, leaving it within easy grasp for either of them now, since the grip he had on her left little option. Her left hand attacked the one that clamped like a vice around her throat in hopes of winning a bit of freedom. As slick as his blood was making her skin, it was really her best chance; a twist of her hips rearranging her weight so that she could lean backwards and out of the man’s reach, limiting his choices to either following her or letting go. Her left leg shifted, a sacrifice to her own balance as she tried to aim her knee down towards the very unprotected instruments between his legs.
“Petch you, you weak, pathetic excuse for a man.” Res pooled in her mouth, just enough gathering on her tongue so that when she spit the contents down at his face, just enough concentration turned it into a clod of sand. A tired trick to be sure but aimed for his eyes, Kalesse hoped that it would do something. “I would rather die by your hands than let you walk away unscathed.” Hard words spit in childish fury, but the fire that ignited behind those onyx eyes added weight to Kalesse’s tone that spoke of much more than she was able to portray.
“I know you. You’re a weak man who would succumb to the hardships of this land rather than bend to accept what they could offer. You would rather make this world conform to your footsteps than follow someone elses.” As riled as she was, Kalesse hardly noticed that the accusations she spit at Gideon probably more accurately described her own personality than anything she suspected of his. Her words were spit between tired gasps and pants, the energy expended to draw the res blackening the edges of her vision. “You find justice in walking away a winner, but the Chaktawe know that real strength is found elsewhere.”