Throwing the balls. Blocking them. Not letting a smile crack his face. It's hard to focus on so many things at once, and Koa's mask is steadily slipping, worn down by the relentless way the Honeybee revels in the chaotic color spray. They're matching goblins in shades of green now, and Koa feels himself smile as Mel's laughter fills the summer air. Maybe things will be okay. Maybe he can just let go.
Well, no- not yet, because there are still ceramic balls to burst. Mel's screech cues him into the arrival of another; once more Koa primes a ten-foot swing, projected fists cracking the porcelain into a rose-red spray. This time he forces healing to the blow, the gash on his face knitting neatly up as vestiges of crimson paint join the blood upon his cheeks. "Gonna have to try harder than that!" the Dragoon calls, lobbing his own double volley back her way.
Well, no- not yet, because there are still ceramic balls to burst. Mel's screech cues him into the arrival of another; once more Koa primes a ten-foot swing, projected fists cracking the porcelain into a rose-red spray. This time he forces healing to the blow, the gash on his face knitting neatly up as vestiges of crimson paint join the blood upon his cheeks. "Gonna have to try harder than that!" the Dragoon calls, lobbing his own double volley back her way.
be love in its disrepute,
scorches the hillside and salts every root
