The breath caught in Tutu's throat--she couldn't tear her eyes from the clash of swords. It felt like if she turned away it would all be over, one would be defeated and she wasn't sure what outcome she could even hope for in this moment. Mytho or Fakir; the thought of either of them being struck down by the other was equally upsetting. Blades slid against each other with a shriek. Fakir faltered. Words burst from Tutu's throat but she couldn't hear anything above that final awful clang--she hadn't looked away, but Fakir fell regardless.