but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
No questions, no inquiries, the notion of understanding passing through on a singular nod. She conducted it like a test, like an examination, like a scrutiny, hastening her disheveled wits into something resembling calculations. Everything they’d done. Everything he’d instructed and orchestrated. It wouldn’t be instinctual or inherent, not yet, but if she could proceed in the same way she’d yearned to master her staff, or the bow, then she might have a chance, a sway, in future proceedings.
She took up her position as he motioned back, then came reeling towards her; muscle memory from weapons made of sticks, from worlds with naught but the fervency of their need to survive, ensued the motion of her wooden blade. Her intentions were to block at first, raising it slightly to snag or catch his onslaught, strength billowing through her clenched jaw, her grating teeth, her rapacious edges.
She took up her position as he motioned back, then came reeling towards her; muscle memory from weapons made of sticks, from worlds with naught but the fervency of their need to survive, ensued the motion of her wooden blade. Her intentions were to block at first, raising it slightly to snag or catch his onslaught, strength billowing through her clenched jaw, her grating teeth, her rapacious edges.
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
