Anju
here I am again, bad news from a bad friend
they call me an omen - only here to torment
they call me an omen - only here to torment
Training. It is an omnipresent part of Anju's life, and her routines are shaped entirely around the hours sculpted out in which she utilizes the grounds in the Nest. Sweat clinging to her brown skin, she slicks the baby hairs out of her face with an impatient, sword-calloused hand. Riya ambles at her side, her normally boundless energy tempered by the side-by-side training the Dragoons are best known for. The halls are relatively empty for the time of day and though they were crafted with dragons in mind - arching, reaching vertices overhead for all manner of winged travel - Riya takes the opportunity to stride in the open corridor alongside her sister.
The ranges open up not far beyond. Easier to keep flying projectiles separated from sword and hand combat areas after all. Riya takes to the sky with the ease of one born from it, the pale sunlight glinting off the golden points of her body as Anju's eyes track her momentarily. The wind against her sweaty skin brings a shiver as her body tries to compensate for the temperature difference, but no discomfort shows on her face.
Setting up is the work of habit. Throwing knives today, as she's rather pants at bows. She'll brush up on it regardless because of her perfectionist tendencies, but for now she enjoys the empty range, and lets the first dagger fly towards the dummy at the end of her lane.
The ranges open up not far beyond. Easier to keep flying projectiles separated from sword and hand combat areas after all. Riya takes to the sky with the ease of one born from it, the pale sunlight glinting off the golden points of her body as Anju's eyes track her momentarily. The wind against her sweaty skin brings a shiver as her body tries to compensate for the temperature difference, but no discomfort shows on her face.
Setting up is the work of habit. Throwing knives today, as she's rather pants at bows. She'll brush up on it regardless because of her perfectionist tendencies, but for now she enjoys the empty range, and lets the first dagger fly towards the dummy at the end of her lane.
wicked and hellbent
a damned soul just pretending
a damned soul just pretending
