"I thought this was gonna be a light spar," Atalanta muttered, spinning one of her blades lazily between her fingers.
"I thought you knew how to hold back and take a L." Parker replied, voice like silk and smirk sharper than her arrows.
Ere floated on a shadow between them, tail twitching. "Okay, I called for a test, not a divine powerplay with sexual tension."
"Too late," Atalanta said, stepping in close—way too close. Her blade didn't swing, it teased, tracing the air inches from his throat like she was drawing his silhouette in silver. "You always this smug, or is it the strength stroking your ego?"
Parker tilted his head, eyes scanning her—not with lust, but with curiosity, danger, respect. The kind of look that said I see you in ways that burned. "Careful, archer. Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you want me to chase."
"Oh?" she hummed, flicking the blade around his back, slow and precise. "You think I run from anything?"
"No," he said smoothly, "but you love being caught."
Boom—she struck. Blade to the gut—illusion. He didn't move.
She reappeared behind him, whispered into his ear, "Tell me what else I love."
He turned—not fast. Just right. And caught her leg mid-kick, spun her once, set her down gently—then tapped her forehead with two fingers.
"Oh, fuck you," she growled.
"Not yet," he said with a wicked grin.
She blinked, face flushing—not from embarrassment, but from heat. Magic swirled around her, eyes glowing.
"New rule," she said, adjusting her grip. "If I land a hit, you owe me a date."
"If you land a hit," Parker chuckled, "I'll wear whatever you want."
Ere groaned. "Gods, please, I'm right here." But neither of them were listening anymore, itt was no longer just a fight ott was foreplay with weapons instead and neither of them planned on losing.
The arrow bent mid-air, warped with Spatial Manipulation. It hit a loop, ricocheted through folded dimensions, reappeared above him—now a burning spear wrapped in Weapon Time enchantment.
It stopped. Just… froze in the air, atoms in the space trembling like they realized they'd just fucked up. He coulf make everything tremble with just a breathe—although it was a bit detremantal to control right now since it was a kinda of too much power.
He exhaled. The pressure knocked it off course, and it turned to dust before hitting the ground.
Second volley came like a storm. Blades. Arrows. Phantom weapons. All enchanted. All controlled mid-air by her Telekinesis, spiraling, smart, hunting him like wolves with divine scent.
Parker didn't twitch. "Are you sure you're an archer I know?"
"Jack of all trades apparently when I'm going against something like you!" She smiled—he did too.
His instincts tore through probability. His vision tracked every arc, speed, angle. His senses exploded in his skull—each vibration, each molecule displaced by the attacks, logged and dismissed in nanoseconds.
And then—everything stopped.
Every weapon. Just hanging around him like they were being judged.
A slow curl of his fist made the air crack. Not from sound—from reality giving up. The blades fell, handles first, some shattering. Others disintegrated mid-suspension.
He finally looked at her.
She snarled. Dove forward. Bow split to dual blades. Her feet didn't touch the ground—Teether of Nature carried her through roots bending to her will like she was the real reincarnation of the Spirit of Nature itself and wind like she was the damn forest's favorite child.
She slashed with her blades toward his knees.
Because Parker had already been somewhere else with the speed she couldn't quite follow.
She spun and went after him. Hit again. A blur of kicks, elbows, magic-laced feints. Stealth-enhanced, boosted with raw divine movement, impossible to track—
And he caught her wrist.
Her blade an inch from his eye. Hovering.
He didn't flinch. Didn't sweat. Didn't breathe differently.
His grip tightened—not crushing—just enough to remind her he could rip through time if he wanted. She gasped, pulling back, flipped once and landed.
Parker raised an eyebrow. "You started it."
Ere popped from the shadow, floating. "Are y'all flirting or sparring?"
Atalanta dropped to a crouch, breathing hard. "Both."
Parker folded his arms.
Still in the same damn spot.
Not a wrinkle on him.
Atalanta lunged again, but this time, there was heat behind it. Speed that would give light a complex. She slid on the rain-kissed grass like a thunderbolt in sneakers, aiming low to sweep his feet from under him.
Parker watched it in real-time. No panic. No prep.
He simply stepped into the lift of her movement, flipping into a somersault that would've made any Olympic gymnast file for retirement. His body twisted overhead, a blur of black-on-grey elegance, before he landed clean—silent.
Before her body could reset from the skid, he caught her wrist mid-rise. The moment froze. He yanked—not harsh, but like lifting silk from a box. Her body rose effortlessly, as though gravity was just another servant to his will. A mountain could've weighed less than her right then.
He didn't fight her, didn't resist her force. He redirected it.
She moved because he allowed it. Their bodies circled—her hair sweeping through air like a golden whip, his footing precise and poetic, like something from an ethereal ballet. One turn. Two. And then—
Her back hit his chest and Parker's arm curved around her waist, the other resting near her collarbone, fingers barely grazing skin.
And then he leaned in.
His lips brushed the edge of her ear.
"If you keep trembling like that," he whispered, voice silk-dipped sin, "I might think you want more than just a spar."
Her entire body betrayed her.
[Ding! +10 Affection Points!
Individuals Atalanta has become one point away from becoming "Obsessed Lover" (100/100AP)
Heat bloomed in her cheeks like wildfire. Her knees nearly buckled. Her pulse tripped over itself. The Ether around her flickered like it didn't know whether to explode or evaporate.
Parker let her go, gently peeling her from his chest, but she was already lost in the heat that had flooded her bloodstream. She stared at the ground for half a second longer than she meant to, trying to remember how to exist.
Then her eyes snapped up.