but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
The youth glowed at the compliment, not telling Amun that the steps and nuances reminded her of stalking, predacious cats, unfurling, unwinding, eager and ready for the hunt. Perhaps she was; fervent, ardent, motivated, hungry for opportunities to hone more and more skills. The notion of blocks and strikes was up her alley though, and she hastened her attention, her accord, back into the finesse of the basics.
Her eyes were rapt as he stepped forward, utilizing the sword to slash through the air, the way he maneuvered his arm, the tactic of traversing across his frame and figure. There were similarities to the technique as she’d done with the staff nearly all her life, but then two others followed through – reversed, underhand, and lunging forward, a promised laceration into the vestiges.
Pulsing with excitement, obvious by the way her feet maneuvered, she attempted to follow along the same lines, jousting and hoisting with the dusky horizon. The first was the easiest, positioning the blade as Amun had done, casting it overhand, pretending there were enemies before her (maybe Kiada; stupid and stubborn), but the other two, not as familiar to her, were a little trickier. Reversing it had its merits, and she strived, but the movements weren’t as fluid or smooth, an obvious novice. The third wasn’t as polished either, but what it lacked for in precision or veracity, it held together by a manifested zest for vehemence, a wild, savage stab into nothingness.
Her eyes were rapt as he stepped forward, utilizing the sword to slash through the air, the way he maneuvered his arm, the tactic of traversing across his frame and figure. There were similarities to the technique as she’d done with the staff nearly all her life, but then two others followed through – reversed, underhand, and lunging forward, a promised laceration into the vestiges.
Pulsing with excitement, obvious by the way her feet maneuvered, she attempted to follow along the same lines, jousting and hoisting with the dusky horizon. The first was the easiest, positioning the blade as Amun had done, casting it overhand, pretending there were enemies before her (maybe Kiada; stupid and stubborn), but the other two, not as familiar to her, were a little trickier. Reversing it had its merits, and she strived, but the movements weren’t as fluid or smooth, an obvious novice. The third wasn’t as polished either, but what it lacked for in precision or veracity, it held together by a manifested zest for vehemence, a wild, savage stab into nothingness.
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
