[She can't really set the difficulty any lower... sorry, Rachel. The time for talk has clearly passed; while she's aware in her peripheral vision that Rachel is coming in for an attack, her eyes widen in surprise - real or feigned is hard to tell at the moment, but it's there - and she stumbles backward in much less forced fashion, her sword coming up to barely deflect the blow up from her torso. Her hair rustles as the sword briefly catches, then passes through it; her bangs would be gone - along with a small bit of her scalp - were this a real blade. With a shove, she parries the incoming sword upwards and scurries backward a step or two, taking a few deep breaths and hesitating while she plans her next move.]
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