MELITA
Success beyond catching blades, a minor pulsing of victory, of triumph, of a smile appearing in the praise curled within. Except that meant she’d completely lost her attention – deviating from the notions of spinning plays or defensive procedures. Recklessness and impulsivity might always be a situation that would literally land her in hot water, too distracted, too deterred, too drawn into a thousand other quandaries and contemplations, that she had no time to register Weaver’s next movement. She made to block, made to maneuver, made to motion and swivel off, but it was far too late. Inexperience and rashness did her in. Her side, unprotected, without anything to seize or sear against the opposing blade, earned a newfound bruise as the wooden sword smacked upon it. It was a searing slide upon her flesh, and she snorted at its existence, at her own foolishness. “You too.”help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
