[Training] you might not have a lot of time to waste

lay your soul onto mine

Flora snorts, brushing a curl out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's not about the shape so much," she says, twirling one of the daggers between her fingers. "It’s about the rhythm. The distance. Throw enough rocks at ningos and eventually, you learn how to lead a moving target." Her smile turns sly. "Also, spite is a fantastic motivator."

She tosses one of the feathered blades underhanded toward a nearby dummy, the motion almost lazy compared to her earlier throws. "But yeah, the bookshelving metaphor is probably a better place to start.. It's all about placement. You’re not trying to hurl it through the shelf—you’re trying to slide it into the perfect spot." Flora casts a quick grin over her shoulder at Elizabeth before her gaze follows the arc of her blade as it sinks neatly into the dummy’s chest. "Also, if you think ningos are jerks now, wait until you meet a void-infected one." She mock-shudders. "Feathers and teeth in all the wrong places. It’s like someone put a nightmare through a paper shredder."

Now for Elizabeth's turn. Raising her brows, Flora makes a show of lobbing the blade toward the other woman so she'd have plenty of time to move out of the way if her magic failed her.