Ilde does not move on her pedestal. This is a game for her mind today, and her physical form does not budge an inch. In the ring, however, her avatar moves fluidly, the back of its wrist coming up in a loose motion to block the punch, knock it aside while leaving the rest of her options open.

One foot steps backwards, turning its form sideways to let the adversary's momentum carry it past. Remembrance for the lessons in momentum and blocking Mara had given on the rooftop.

But it is time to strike as well. The shove is merely to put the opponent off balance, it is not an act in and of itself. It requires followup, and the Ilde-form pursues with a rattling, hissing sound like a snake. The punch aimed low at the solar plexus is dedicated, but secondary, to the followup of a twisting strike from the elbow aimed across the chin.