He rolled toward her, and she accepted him with the sort of hunger born from battle. The sort of eagerness that beckoned strife and retribution. His motions were enough to give her hesitation in her own actions however. For as ready as she was to accept an adversary bent on meeting her face to face, to match her blow for blow... it was strangely different when that body was belonging to a Guardian. A being dedicated to proper dealings and etiquette.

And yet, the field was met, and she accepted the approach of her adversary.

He collided into her, and she absorbed the crash of their bodies as best as she could. His weight upon her, as they both struggled in the dirt and mud, was oppressive. He gave no quarter, and neither did she as her own hands traveled up across the finely-clad trappings of his clothing, one fist gripping his collar and the other grasping angrily at his ear.
He was relentless, and she felt his hand close around her neck even as she pushed herself against his own body.

"You dirty yourself, Leh'beni," she gasped out, "... are you ready -hrk- to kill your beast in such filth... ?"