MELITA
In real fights, one might not have time to think about proper stances. It would have to become fluid, inherent, ingrained within one’s body, honed by muscles and time. Inexperience didn’t lend itself too keenly to those striving and trying, but it would come with practice, practice, practice. The girl nearly mentioned their misshapen stature, but then Quanil came in to strike, and the moment was gone. More of a slam again, “Good!” she echoed through the refrain, the reverberations of their attack shuddering through her staff and arms. Whether or not it was a difference of strength, skill, and precision, her weapon didn’t leave her hands, only violently ricocheting between calloused palms. “Hm. Let’s adjust your stance.” And here she modeled and demonstrated, placing one foot ahead of the other, grounding her weight into the earth. “Try once more.”
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun