Well, there it was. Her desire to conserve her spell-casting to last the course of the expected match was, once again, torn apart by opportunity. Against a spear user with both javelins and voice-based magic to keep her out of arms reach, she expected her Vibration spell to be less useful than normal over the course of the battle. The idea was certainly solidified by the first time she cast that spell - though it did end up quite helpful, it was far from what the spell's capabilities allowed, especially after putting so much force into the delivery. But here Tiam was, violating the advantages his reach gave him, being aggressive and expecting that his superior strength will let him play the Martial Artist.
It was a good thing, though. They were both here to learn, and if time allowed it, she'd mention how it was probably wisest to combat a sparkle user a range where your weapon has the greatest advantage, no closer, no further. Martial prowess was classically lax in such individuals (who practices swinging a piece of steel when they can practice exploding things instead?), so it'd make sense to take advantage of the benefits of your weapons against them. Moving away from that sweet-spot, though, was denying yourself your advantage over them, for as far as the elf knew, magic was typically decent at any range.
She saw where her staff hit from a quick glance made to ensure accuracy, and saw that, yet again, the staff failed to act as a deterrent from staying so close. The man seemed intent on using little energy to deal with her attacks. Frustrating. To make things worse, he hardly seemed bothered by the rap to his right leg, and since he was coming even closer than he was before, she was running out of room to swipe at him with her staff. Fair enough; though it wouldn't be as awesome as she wanted it to be, she began casting her second use of Vibration. Maybe then the bandit wouldn't stand so close after taking a solid blow.
He reached over her, thankfully still armed, as it gave the elf just enough time to understand what he was up to before it happened, and react accordingly. She freed up her left hand so as to have a way to deliver her punch-force spell, a quickly cast variant that would still be noticeable thanks to her being able to back her spells with extra force. She tightened up her mid-section and braced for impact, a solid knee that was thankfully dulled due to the ethereal armor that now enveloped her robe. Mind you, it was still painful enough that it wasn't to be ignored, but it didn't jostle her enough to shake off her attack, and probably wasn't quite the effect the man was expecting. Both her arms swung in to hug the leg as it connected, though her right was notably slower due to the weight and size of her staff. While air left her lungs, her left hand, and its nails, tried to dig into the back of the man's damaged knee, trying to ensure the released energy that would feel like a solid punch reached damaged the wounded knee even further. Blood, her blood, then decided it wanted to follow her air, and jumped from her leathery-robe onto the man's attacking knee. The elf wished it was his blood, rather than hers, but oh well.
In her attempt to recover precious oxygen, she wondered at the possibility of her opponent pushing her back and into the candles. Surely, one who pulled their attacks, even after being told not to, wouldn't be so cruel, but there was always the chance. That'd be quite the candle-date, if it happened. She let go of the leg, hoping that this would finally persuade the man to get out of her personal zone, something that wouldn't happen while she was hugging him. It was also probably easier to breath without a knee pressing against your lungs... testing of this hypothesis was to begin immediately, if possible.
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