Three times! Three times Jean takes her down to the ground, and this time, she stays there. A momentary appreciation for not going for her ankles again. It feels nice, but it would make walking difficult until she had her tome made. They're good. Very good. The kind of good she's only encountered in some dragoons. The ones who would go single handed against centuries old dragons and come out impossibly, worryingly alive. Who learned the flow of a thousand year war and learned it well.

But perhaps more importantly, not a single move they've made has matched what she knew was coming. So this time, Ryja stays down. Admittedly, part of it has to do with the reaction she has, the inevitable result of a good fight, one she's not winning, one that hurts. The reason none of those dragoons left her office without a smile on their face.

And they haven't cut her. Claws on her throat but light enough to leave her unmarked, even if her ankle is going to bruise hard. She doesn't speak, yet, because those claws are pressed in. Just stays down, under them, trying to work out what she's missed. Hands open against the groundin what amounts to surrender.