Zairah
I had a dream, which was not all a dream... The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless..
Zairah didn’t see her move. One heartbeat Thalassa was in front of her, the next the air behind her shifted — weight, heat, intent — and then she was shoved forward again. Her boots slipped, knees cracked the deck, palms slapped the planks hard enough to sting.
She laughed. Couldn’t help it. It burst out sharp, breathless, bright with adrenaline.
“You’re fast,” she rasped, pushing herself up again. The skin of her palms burned, her balance a mess, but she was grinning like a fool. “But I learn quick.”
This time when she stood, her stance was narrower, the way Thalassa had said; feet close, back upright, eyes open. She breathed through her teeth, steadying herself, tail twitching like a fuse waiting to catch.
Then she moved. Not with grace — not even close — but with hunger.
She turned on the ball of her foot and lunged low, aiming not for Thalassa’s face or chest but for her center, the way an animal might. Her shoulder pitched first, an awkward but solid shove meant to knock the captain off-balance just long enough to prove a point: she was listening.
It wasn’t elegant. Her body was still half a step behind her instincts, all elbows and too much force, but there was some [low level] power in the motion. Raw, unrefined, alive.
She laughed. Couldn’t help it. It burst out sharp, breathless, bright with adrenaline.
“You’re fast,” she rasped, pushing herself up again. The skin of her palms burned, her balance a mess, but she was grinning like a fool. “But I learn quick.”
This time when she stood, her stance was narrower, the way Thalassa had said; feet close, back upright, eyes open. She breathed through her teeth, steadying herself, tail twitching like a fuse waiting to catch.
Then she moved. Not with grace — not even close — but with hunger.
She turned on the ball of her foot and lunged low, aiming not for Thalassa’s face or chest but for her center, the way an animal might. Her shoulder pitched first, an awkward but solid shove meant to knock the captain off-balance just long enough to prove a point: she was listening.
It wasn’t elegant. Her body was still half a step behind her instincts, all elbows and too much force, but there was some [low level] power in the motion. Raw, unrefined, alive.
(Training 2/4)
