There's something in that grin that reminds her too much of the mass-production units and there's a spike of fear that she forces back down. She's trying to turn into a follow-through, other leg coming up just as Seviilia launches her counter-attack. Unwise? Probably. But she's always gotten through on sheer guts and aggression and tactical instinct and she isn't about to stop yet. At least not until Seviilia connects. She feels something snap and a sharp pain in her chest and she goes tumbling back over the mat. She doesn't weight that much, after all, and Seviilia has height and weight and sheer strength on her.

At least she got her hit in.

She sits up with a hacking cough. Each breath sends more pain stabbing through her. She probably broke a rib. At least fractured it. She starts to get to her feet, teeth gritted, eye narrowed. Adrenaline is still pounding through her and the pain isn't that bad, isn't going to kill her yet.

"Fuck you."

She hates in that moment, but a part of her recognizes the pain and tries to hold onto it. She's alive and she can feel it with every breath.