Sharpening Dulled Claws [Kita, Adalwolfa]

That grip tightened somewhat with her opponent's response, pupils contracting into dark chasms upon otherwise vibrant valleys of green and yellow as movement caught her gaze, muscles tensed with both a brace for impact and a determination lit by both frustration and instinct to react. Pain flourished like the crash of thunder, but her grip stubbornly refused to cease despite the twitch and burn of pain. Her free hand reacted in a fluid movement, dropping her blade and seizing the opportunity to lunge a curled fist to her solar plexus in the same moment her ankle was released. Unless sufficient retaliation was given, the blonde's body would crash into the earth with a considerable crush of force, the arrancar's strength utilized to it's fullest to deliver a blow that would shatter the earth below.

Either way, Kita's lip was curled in a snarl as her hand pulsated with that regenerative factor, snapping at the woman, "Are you to insinuate I am weak? I, who has hunted many great and small, who tore apart the greatest opponents with mere claws and teeth, who has long past survived that filth who saw himself as god?!"

With hardly much more prompting, she'd lunge for another attack, an open palm coming to crush her opponent's torso, voice tearing from her throat with a desperate, vicious scream, "If I must tear you to pieces and choke you on your own viscera to prove such, so be it!"

Accepting a blow was the nature of a bout. Ada knew that, and braced herself for the impending strike, or rather, loosened herself. Though she gained no small velocity from the strike, it did not do much to her, and as she slammed into the ground below, she listened, waited, watched. And she spoke, reciting words which she knew deeply in her being, having read them untold times.

"Independence is for the very few; it is a privilege of the strong. And whoever attempts it even with the best right but without inner constraint proves that he is probably not only strong, but also daring to the point of recklessness."

The open palm came toward her, but Ada shot upward, effortlessly raising herself into a double-heel kick with both hands planted firmly on the ground below. Her reach, simply by way of both her greater height and her method of striking, meant that she would hit first, but she did not stop speaking.

"He enters into a labyrinth, he multiplies a thousandfold the dangers which life brings with it in any case, not the least of which is that no one can see how and where he loses his way, becomes lonely, and is torn piecemeal by some minotaur of conscience. Supposing one like that comes to grief, this happens so far from the comprehension of men that they neither feel it nor sympathize."

Her momentum was sufficient for her hands to leave the ground, if she wished, but that was not ideal. Instead, she simply followed up that double kick with a swift return to her usual stance, expression still composed and confident, as her body remained without blemish.

"And he cannot go back any longer. Nor can he go back to the pity of men."

A brief flicker of shock hit the red arrancar's senses with the sight she beheld - that powerful strike that would have shattered the body of many, especially those of the living, left her opponent with nothing to show for it, not even stunned from the hit. Hearing those words leave so easily from an opponent she sought to down with not even a labored breath, it twisted her expression. She wished not for prey that would crumple beneath her with a simple willing, but she could hardly derive much enjoyment or fulfillment from this altercation, this woman made her chest throb with pain and her eyes burn with her words.

Blows were sent, blows were received, she stood resolute, a deadly expression given as the pain flourishing in her flesh hardly did much to stop her from closing in on the blonde once again, a shout rising from her throat, "Save your flowery words! You are not speaking to man!"

One of acute sight could see sparks licking her flesh as she closed in, throwing punches fueled with anger that would flourish with that small scale explosion with every point of contact, be it her opponent or the ground. If she was so resolute, she would crumble that foundation to hot sand with her bare hands.

The nature of her body, the immutable perfection of her form, was something that had served Ada well in countless battles before this one, and not simply for the sake of avoiding injury. It was demoralizing, to see your opponent look no worse for wear, and this was something Ada always took the fullest advantage of.

"Oh? A feminist view of linguistics, my apologies. Shall I repeat myself with properly gendered language?"

Ada wasn't such a fool as to try and clash her fists against her opponent, and so she instead focused on footwork, bobbing and weaving to avoid whatever blows came her way. The two of them were decidedly on very even terms when it came to physicality, that much had become abundantly clear from the impacts already traded, and so she had little desire to simply meet every strike head-on. Eventually, however, she would need to find an opening–or to make one.

As Kita’s fist flew toward her, Ada’s slid past, utilizing her reach and skill to make up for what was likely inferior strength. A cross counter, using Kita’s own momentum to make the blow itself land twice as hard and using the arrancar’s own strength against her; such was worth the explosion that went off in Ada’s own face, as her fist crashed forward with power far beyond that of a mere human.

That growing look of bother became more apparent with that response as she went to attack, speaking between fists, "I am saying that wasting words on a beast is foolish! Do you grant every creature you seek to fell a lecture of everything they are not?!"

Even with her seeming immutability, the woman still weaved and sought to avoid being damaged - was this mockery, or was she still capable of injury, the fear of death in her stride? Kita didn't know, and didn't dwell on the thought for so long; things like her shouldn't think so terribly much, she should be tearing and destroying what was before her, that she reminded herself with. But facts were facts, her opponent was as fast or perhaps even faster than she, and as she felt that punch connect and burst with her fury against flesh, she herself felt a rooting of pain in her torso, not so much to force her to double over but certainly enough to be acknowledged.

Clenched jaws parted with a breath, a hand having raced to yet again grab at her opposition's, fingered pressed onto the wrist. She squeezed, tightly, with full intent to break and disable one of her opponent's means of defense with all her might, both compression and twisting lending to this end, her other hand taking the opportunity of being so close to her opponent's head to grasp her neck.

"Hm? I suppose so, yes. What other good is there in wisdom if not to share it in the hopes of elucidating others?"

This time, Ada wasn't intent on being grabbed. She was exceedingly quick to adapt in a fight such as this, and her opponent's proclivity to grab at her was clear enough that she wasn't going to let it happen a second time unless it was truly unavoidable. She lowered the whole of her body quite abruptly, dropping to the ground and catching herself on one arm as she delivered a wide, sweeping kick to throw her opponent's balance off. If her foe would fight brutally, she would have to be fluid. Superior mastery over combat itself was her one saving grace in this bout.

"Regardless. Beasts do not speak, do not reason at all. Your arguing is already proof enough you are capable of higher thought, so let us not continue some trivial, woeful banter about your apparent lack of value, yes?"

Fundamentally uplifting even at its cruelest and most cynical, such was the nature of Ada's entire worldview.

Blood boiled: she hated this woman, at least that was her understanding of this burning in her chest and face every time those lips parted to spill more useless words unto her, every syllable wasted conjuring the desired image of her helplessly choking on blood. Every fluid movement was met with an angered swing or furious kick, the Arrancar's infuriation clouding her judgement and exercising more force than grace into her blows. She did not tire, but she did not refine, even as her sword laid feet away from the altercation - she refused to retrieve it after discarding it for an opportunity, hardly wishing to even look it's way. Even if it was the externalized parts of her more bestial self, it's shape was a weapon of man, and here.. She did not recognize herself as such, she couldn't.

There was no stopping, there was no hesitance, she just kept going for the taller blonde with every little bit of ferocity she could, dissatisfaction growing - her claws were still clean, her body dirtied only by the earth. It wasn't exhaustion that would lead to her resorting to speech yet again, but rather that frustration burning into confusion,

"What is this foolishness you are doing?!" A snap left her previously quieted and focused movements, "You move to battle me rather than slay me, do you not understand what I am? What I will do if I were not stopped? Do you intend to perform this stupid dance forever?! I am beyond reason, beneath humanity!"

The tigress ceased her vicious movements, forcing a broad smile. Her expression read of desperation rather than mockery, her stance open and seeming.. Welcoming of any shots Ada wished to swing freely at her.

Superior confidence, superior grace, superior mental fortitude. These distinctions were what gave Ada the advantage against her opponent, what allowed her to read the increasingly wild, unrefined strikes that lacked mastery or purpose beyond straightforward bloodshed. As their battle slowed, and the arrancar paused in the bout, so too did Ada, her eyes darting over her foe's form.

"What indeed, I wonder. If you are, indeed, a mindless beast, then you would not be worth the full effort of a swift death when such is unnecessary. If you are not, then it would be a disservice to enact such a thing."

She did not respond to such transparent provocation, and instead simply moved herself closer to the blade that the woman had discarded, kicking it all the further away from their little battlefield. No sense in giving her the opportunity.

Again, and again, she expected it's coming..

But again, and again, the red haze never took her mind. Her thoughts were active, alive, thriving, running, crashing, crushing each other into a miserable swamp of thought and feeling that spilled into her eyes and burned her gaze. That sensation of disconnection she was so often allowed to be lost in did not come, it left an uncomfortable cold void behind. Was that not what she wanted, to be free of it and remain a thinking being with their humanity intact? But humanity didn't exercise the cruel aching in her muscles or the wish to enact violence. Her swings felt meaningless, the digging and tearing done without purpose...

Was she man or beast?

Once again, she couldn't answer.

And that drove her mad. Her opponent's express disinterest in killing her, both in words and action, only grew that sensation of itching frenzy within her.

"Is that all that I am worth?! To be naught but a subject of humiliation, tormented, toyed with, no end in sight..?" Rather than forceful shouting, it sounded as if she was on her last nerve, panic breaking her voice, hands grasping through her red locks, "Am I to be nothing but a pawn underfoot?! An example? An example?!"

Her heart beat painfully at her ribs, hands forcefully brought down, a flicker and grow of light in each palm, fingernails digging into her flesh to supply them blood - two Ceros, increasing in potency and ready to be sent.

"I will make myself worthy even if it means I must tear it from your charred bones!" A swing of the arms, a pair of large, fire-like claw ceros tore through the field and sought to tear and burn her opponent, disallowing her wounds to heal with digging nails so that another sacrifice may be given at any time.

"Tsk tsk. Who has said any of these things? Certainly not I."

Even as two cero of no small power shot toward her, Ada's composure did not falter. After all, how could the Iron Lady, crown princess of the Holy Roman Empire, display such a weak mentality? Rather than respond with fear, she simply focused her all on avoiding the burning attacks, helped in no small part by just how tremendously Kita had telegraphed their impending trajectory.

Even so, she could feel the sheer power behind them scorch her as she left, and were it not for the fundamental nature of her body, she probably would have been left with some notable scorches. However, she remained unblemished, visibly unaffected by the attack having careened passed her.

"So tell me. If I have not said these things, and the people here certainly have not, then who has? Is that not who your ire should be directed toward? Would it not be in the nature of the strong to tear down those who press upon you, rather than those who provide no resistance?"