they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
She watches as he ducks her knives tossed toward him, and she snorts before taking a stance to prepare against the retaliation she’s sure to receive. The life drain pulls away and she stretches her neck a small amount, palms up and ready to create something to work against it. But a thought hits her as she watches the three knives begin to fly toward her.
She lifts her palms a bit higher, shooting out smaller fireworks toward each one of the blades, hoping it might bounce against them and dart their course. A practice of sorts, moving targets, ones she wouldn’t feel bad about hitting if she does dead on.
She lifts her palms a bit higher, shooting out smaller fireworks toward each one of the blades, hoping it might bounce against them and dart their course. A practice of sorts, moving targets, ones she wouldn’t feel bad about hitting if she does dead on.
REXANNA
