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|EDIT: ooc: Sorry for the wait. I've been a tad busy. Hopefully you still wish to finish this.|
If light would not work, Phoenix would have to use a different method. Possibly more direct.
It appeared as though the wind let up as Mr. Verse diverted his concentration, and Phoenix formed a plan around the idea. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
As the wind picked back up, Phoenix sent another ball of light towards his foe. This time, however, it would explode upon contact. If the wind let up, whether or not the explosion occurred, he would lunge forward and send a slash in Verse's general direction with his blade.
|The wind let up for a second, as Verse spun to the side, quickly using his cane to bat the ball of light into the ground. Upon completing his spin, the wind built up again, though not as powerful as before.|
|"As you wish, Mr. Verse," the physically younger fighter called out, a large smile across his face. "You can call me Phoenix."
Phoenix himself wore a white button down and dress pants. All regular colors, of course, but who was he to judge?
As the gust of wind picked up, Phoenix braced himself and ran forward, not wanting to fall off of the looming ledge into certain demise. His pace was slow, due to the opposing wind, so he needed a counter attack.
Ash would surely blow away in this breeze, and fire was questionable. Instead, Phoenix concentrated the energy of his fire into pure light, and shot an orb straight towards the peculiar man. The most it would do is knock him off his feet at that potency, but that was all the time needed this early on. Plus, the wind should hopefully let up.
| Upon the opposing side of the arena, a purple cloud of smoke appeared for but a moment. Standing where the smoke once was, a man stood, curled gunslinger mustache upon his skeptical face. A bowler hat atop his head, black vest on his chest, and a royal blue string tie around his neck. Upon his feet blue cowboy boots, golden spurs glimmering in the light.
"Greetings, friend." The man called out, still holding the look of skepticism. His opponent was very young, and sprightly. "Name's Robert Verse, you can call me Mr. Verse, sport."
Verse was a man who seemed to be timeless almost, an odd characteristic, for an odd man. With his left hand he drew his pocket-watch, checking the time for a moment; and with his right, he drew his collapsible cane.
"As they say, age before beauty." Verse smiled, and started this fight off quickly by launching a potent gust of wind at his foe.
|For Xeios and I.
Setting: An arena atop a cloud, 75 foot radius.
Phoenix alighted upon the cloud, being sure to keep some distance between himself and the ledge. A fall would most certainly kill him, as he wasn't using his wings from this point on in the fight.
Running a hand through light brown hair, Phoenix turned and faced his foe across the expanse of white that was the arena. With a blaze of golden fire, a longsword appeared in the right hand of the immortal, its blade the same color as the fire that gave birth to it.
The fire scorched a little, but Phoenix didn't mind. On the contrary, the heat warmed him up for a battle he was looking forward to. He wanted to know what this new fighter had in store.
"Are your ready, friend?" Phoenix called out, his friendly voice sharing the warmth of the rays of sunlight.