[Training] no one told you to breathe

MELITA

She hadn’t intended to draw blood – careful when it came to training (unless it was Kiada, and then all bets were off), wary of consequences in mere practice. This was to be the building of fortitude and skills, not an hour where they were shredded into nothing. The regret curled along her features in the form of a grimace, an apology almost along her tongue, and then he praised her. The youth sighed, shook her head, and her gaze went to the hole in his shirt, serrated edges of stiletto ease rupturing fabric, and then skin. “Nate won’t be happy about that one either.” The doctor had probably come to expect it, but honestly.

There was no time for further banter or apologies, as Sunjata seemed to up the ante. Her attention went back to stances, watching his footwork, his movements, and then the rapid noticing of the daggers flying towards her, from both sides. An attempt to close in, to render her caught, trapped, snared; and the youth had spent an entire childhood avoiding just that.

So instead of doing the obvious, sharpening into some retreat, some evasion, the girl formulated an altogether different plan, attempting to lower her frame, nearly dropping to her knees, duck underneath the blades, and swipe towards his calves. She didn’t expect it to work, imagining the press and slide of the daggers across her flesh. But the girl also didn’t intent to be predictable, and here was the perfect opportunity to try, to strive, and see what would work, and what definitely couldn’t.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts