Sparkle like a sunken pirate wreck

Weaver

Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;

Weaver gives the girl a broad grin and a nod. ”Yup, like that. Now, you are going to use this part of your hand and arm,” she says, unclenching one fist to touch the pinky-side of her fist and arm. ”If you have the chance, you can also use elbows. For smaller people, like us, the elbows and knees are usually more powerful.” Something she’d been taught at a young age too, and Weaver is more likely to throw an elbow than a proper punch.

”So I’m going to try and grab you, and I want you to pummel me with both fists, where I showed you. My arms, my chest, my face. Whatever it takes. Don’t worry about hurting me, I can heal.” Weaver nods, waiting to make sure Seren is ready. When she is, Weaver comes in slowly, reaching out her arms toward Seren’s middle, making as if to grab her. The movements are slow for now, letting Seren get used to the motions first.

it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.