Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Maea was not best pleased by the ultimatum, as evidenced by her frown as she jumped back from the slashing blade. The edge of it caught in the fabric of her dress but came away without doing any damage. Possibly Thalassa might be surprised to realize that the black velvet was not as soft and pliable as it appeared, and the same went for its pale-haired owner. Getting tired of my own words
"Make me," Maea challenged back, dipping her hands in behind her back. The discs she withdrew glowed faintly in the wintery light, emitting a heat that would have proven alarming for anyone other than an Ancient. Alas, Thal wouldn't care about the magic more than she did; today they were little more than daggers, albeit sharp and unusual.
Setting one to spin around a finger, Maea sent it flying towards the younger woman, hoping it would create some more distance between them. The other was held in reserve, to block with or throw as the opportunity arose. Her heart raced; it had been a while since she sparred, and the memory of arrows biting into her flesh clamored in her head, lending a certain hesitation to her reactions that slowed Maea down, to her dismay.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
