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Dominating the center of the Dueling Theatre is a large glass dome, inside of which lies the main dueling piste, the field where duelists go head to head for the entertainment of the masses. The glass is designed to be one-way, so that the crowd can see in, but the duellists' side is left foggy and opaque to prevent distraction and interference. Depending on the type of match, the field will either be left bare or filled with various obstacles like magical plants and steep rubble. Large sets of collapsible bleachers surround the dome, which when folded serve as smaller pistes for practice. Four small antechambers serve as locker rooms for each team, each denoted by their house's sigil carved into the door.
"Oh, that’s low,” he said, though there was no real complaint in it.
His grip tightened a little on his wand as he shifted his footing again, trying to keep himself steady without making it obvious how aware he still was of the edge behind him. His pulse hadn’t settled properly in a while now, each near miss and shove only winding him up more, but Tristan’s expression made it hard to feel properly annoyed about any of it. If anything, Devi looked more awake now than he had at the start of practice, all sharp eyes and restless energy.
Then he caught the look on Tristan’s face, that smug little challenge in it. For a moment, a shadow seemed to cover his friend's eyes, but it was gone so quickly he was sure it was his imagination. His grin pulled wider. “All your attention, huh?” he echoed, eyebrows lifting as if he were giving that very serious consideration. “Well, that makes me feel special. Alright, then,” he said, voice a little more focused now, though the smile hadn’t gone anywhere. “Since you asked so nicely... Flipendo!”
Tristan was pushed back again as Devon bounced on his toes, enjoying duelling on the edge (literally). "We're getting quite good at this. D'ya think Luke won his duel against that Floranti girl?"
Devi was right. They had gotten good at this. Tristan glanced back as he felt his foot run out of floor to settle on. When had he gotten this close to the edge? He could have sworn he was further ahead… Well, it didn’t matter. The adrenaline was pumping, and the thrill of the fight had taken over him.
“The one with curly hair? No way, man, and that’s not even against Luke. I’ve seen her practice. She’s intense.”
Unlike those two, the two current fighters were pretty evenly matched. They could probably go for hours without defeat. Devi didn’t know all of Tristan’s tricks, but he had definitely learned a few. Well, as long as they didn’t become mortal enemies, it was a small price to pay for their friendship.
Both of them were now one Flipendo away from losing. This gave Tristan an idea. He turned back to his friend with a gleam in his eyes. He lifted his wand towards the other end of the piste, planted his feet firmly, and sent out a challenge.
“What do you say, Devi? I think we proved ourselves enough here. Want to finish this off with some flair? One final shot to crown a champion.”
Round 11 Action: Step
Position adjustment: The critical failure pushed Tristan back two spaces instead of one.
The look in Tristan’s eyes told Devi exactly where this was going before the words had even fully left his mouth.
A grin pulled at Devi’s mouth, adrenaline buzzing hot under his skin. “Yeah,” he said, adjusting his footing and lifting his wand properly again. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
His pulse was hammering now. Between how close he’d come to losing three different times and the way the two of them had settled into a rhythm, it felt like the whole duel had narrowed down to this. One shot. One opportunity. To seize everything you they'd wanted in one moment. Would he capture it or just let it slip?
Uh oh, distracting song now stuck in his head. Devi’s eyes stayed fixed on Tristan’s. He barely gave himself another second to think. “Flipendo!”
Their spells left at the same time, white light cutting clean across the piste toward each other. For one brief second, Devi thought they’d crash together in the middle, but instead, Tristan’s spell tore straight through his.
Devi only had time for a quick, disbelieving flash of "Oh, come on," before the force of it hit him square and sent him off the piste.
He went down hard, the breath knocked out of him in one rough rush as he caught himself badly and slid on the floor. For a second he just stayed there, staring up at the ceiling with his jaw clenched, one hand still wrapped around his wand.
“Damn you Eminem for distracting me," he muttered, more to the ceiling than anything else. He pushed himself upright with a grimace, not enjoying how warm his face felt. Tristan offered him a hand. The sour look on Devon's face didn’t last, it couldn’t.
Still, when he got to his feet, there was a clear edge of frustration in the way he brushed himself off. “That was…” He exhaled hard through his nose and shook his head once, unable to stay too frustrated at his friend. “That was really good, Tristan. Good game,” he said as hhe offered his hand for a handshake.
