[ WEEK SEVEN – KILL LOG (MILLA) ]

[sheriffexe]

[ FUCK YOU FUCKS THEN ]

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[thatsthespirit]

[another smile at his compliment. the smile of a warrior]

And it's an honor to battle you as well.

[she stays on the defensive, blocking every swing that she can-- left, right, center, left, center-- but his assault pushes her back. she stumbles, though she tries to maintain her balance, and it's that mistake coupled with her exhaustion that leaves him another opening to strike]

[at her heart]

[bittybat]

[There's no use drawing the battle out. As cheap as it feels, Damian takes the opportunity to end Milla as swiftly and mercifully as possible.

His strike is true, right through the heart, and there's a surprisingly amount of power behind the thrust. The al Ghul blade is made for killing. It's razor sharp, and can pierce the toughest pieces of protective material.

It splits cleanly through Milla from front to back. Damian doesn't dice her; it's in and then right back out just as fast. He steps back and straightens up respectfully, lowering the sword at his side.]

[thatsthespirit]

[it hurts. it's sharp and white hot with pain that's even worse than when her legs were injured so badly she couldn't walk. surprise and shock registers on her expression, even though she knew-- she knew-- that this was coming. she knew from the very beginning she wouldn't be able to best him in a fight, just as much as she knew she that she couldn't back down from one]

[she doesn't have time to register the warmth of blood soaking the front of her clothing. she doesn't have time to register the way her knees hit the ground. she doesn't have time to register anything but the pain and a brief, fleeting thought of it's up to you. . . Damian. . . before her world goes black]

[her body slumps forward, collapses onto the ground, Higekiri's sword lodged loosely in her hand]

[Milla Maxwell is dead]