Soleil
When the silence isn't quiet
And it feels like it's getting hard to breathe
His praise breaks her heart and soothes her hackles, and she's so confused. Tormented by the novelty and foreign nature of her own self-hatred and aimless anger. Her feet find the floor again without any success, but she quickly brings her spear back into both hands, certain Deimos won't give her any time to rest. And, blessedly, that also means no time to think. And it feels like it's getting hard to breathe
He's far faster than her, rounding her quicker than she can counter, and she can only partially turn and step in to take the brunt of the hilt against her spine instead of the serrated edges at the tip. It knocks a hiccup of pained sound from her lips, but she's closer to him now at least and with both hands already squarely on her spear she aims the tip of it towards his arms in a close-quarters lunge. Soleil is certain he will evade it, but she's confident that in another fight with a different opponent she could lance the sharp edge off her opponent's forearm to force them to drop their weapon.
I know you feel like dying
But I promise we'll bring the world to its feet
But I promise we'll bring the world to its feet
