Beautiful Illusion

OOC ~ Lol, it's okay - I was kidding, again...and I didn't reply sooner 'cause I've been a little busy >_<;; lol

It was the metaphorical - and in this case, also physical - curtain Lust had hoped to hide behind, in order to allow her wounds to knit. To any human, it was an astonishing rate...in fact, it would appear to deny the rules set down by nature itself. She was healing at an alarming pace...though it did not come as a surprise to the female...healing like this was second nature, and a very useful one at that.

"Where-where are you?" She coughed a little, and spluttered out the words in between mouthfuls of sand - some of which still contained blood. Undoubtedly, the female found it hard to breathe - though the absence of such an action would not harm her greatly. Her main concern was locating her opponent - she knew well that she had damaged him, and more damage would seem necessary if she was to advance in this. The answer to all the incredulous questions that had crossed her mind was a simple one: unless mortally wounded, Mewtwo had very few weaknesses. She had not been deaf to his stupefied creator when the man had seen her harm his spawn.

"C'mon!" She yelled, almost uncharacteristically, through the dust and debris, as if hoping it would draw her opponent closer to her. to any sane person, it would appear illogical and irrational; in this circumstance, the female was almost helpless, though refused to admit it. This creature had ethereal powers - she was simply the undead, with a little more than any human could possibly have. It was to this small asset that she owed her surivival in the battle thus far.

Desperation was apparent as her crimson eyes stung, searching the otherwise shrouded arena for any sign of the strange creature she was battling. A futile hope. It felt almost as though she had no choice but to rush forwards, in any random direction, and strike out for the one she was fighting. Lust extended her bloodied nails once again, thrashing and jabbing, in any direction she could remotely guess. It was in only futile hope that she could assume one of her attacks would collide with their target.

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