Corvo won't admit this even under torture, but he's actually starting to enjoy his morning sparring sessions with Daud. It's a pleasure to spar with someone at his skill level: exhilarating, exhausting in a good way, deadly as it is - Daud's not bothered with niceties, and Corvo's learned more ugly, dirty tricks over the last week than he has in years.
The bruises and minor injuries that Daud inflicts on him everyday also has an unexpected benefit: Corvo feels more... balanced, somehow. He no longer worries constantly about the Heart, or about the minor intricacies of political Court machinations and security matters and the million little details that keep an Empire afloat and running.
They've made little further progress on the problem of the Outsider: the supposed witch in northern Gristol had, as Daud had thought, turned out to be a fake. Daud did seem confident of a breakthrough on Sokolov's rituals and the paint pigment, however. Corvo remains unsettled - it's obvious that their abilities have been diminished, and he supposes that he's... worried, as powerful and as ancient as the Outsider may be. He's beginning to regret not having disposed of the mad old witch when he had the chance.
"Pay attention," Daud growls, and scissors his feet out from under him. Corvo rolls with the fall, growling, and strikes instantly the moment he regains his balance, ramming the hilt of his blade against Daud's wrist. Daud jerks back, and the hilt snaps with a ringing slap against the flat of Daud's upraised blade, cutting a light gash into Corvo's palm.
It stings, but even as Daud grins at him, Corvo shoves back and manages to slam a fist into Daud's stomach. The assassin doubles over with a muffled yelp, and Corvo presses his advantage, jabbing his heel into the back of Daud's knee and sending Daud crashing into the ground. Even as he steps over to disarm Daud, however, Daud rolls onto his back, a shot fired from his wristbow slamming high into Corvo's shoulder.
Daud had aimed to miss - Corvo doesn't doubt that the bolt could have just as quickly have buried itself in his throat. Daud grins at him, his teeth bloodied and bared, and Corvo kicks him in the ribs for his trouble, making him grunt and roll out of range. Grabbing for the bolt, Corvo grits his teeth as he jerks it out of his shoulder, tossing it aside. The wound burns, but he's tasted blood now - he goes after Daud, who's still winded, and it doesn't take long for Corvo to finish the job, disarming Daud with a deft flick of his wrist and sending his blade clattering away.
He points the edge of his blade at Daud's neck, and Daud melodramatically raises his hands palms up in surrender. "We should employ a points system," Daud suggests dryly. "Rather than decide the matter on whoever's left standing."
"I thought we weren't keeping count," Corvo pushes his blade forward, just enough to indent Daud's skin - Daud doesn't even flinch.
"Where's the fun of it without stakes?"
"Were we betting on stakes?"
"I think it's been building up to that for a while," Daud drawls, and he steps back sharply even as he knocks Corvo's blade aside with the back of his leather bracer, lunging over. Corvo snarls, grabbing Daud by his collar and whirling them around, slamming Daud into the wall.
Daud laughs, and he keeps laughing even as blind adrenaline and hatred burn in his blood like the violence buried deep in his soul: Corvo snarls and drags Daud's wrists up to pin them over his head, a thumb jammed into the spring mechanism in the wristbow. "Give," Corvo growls - then he stiffens up with a stifled yelp as Daud merely leans sharply over to bite.
