It’s not dying I’m afraid of
She’s not expecting the punch that comes launching at her chest. Her brother had been moody lately, certainly, and she’d just been trying to give him space to figure it out. He’d come talk to her when he was ready, but she knew she wasn’t exactly helping lately, so she was trying to stay out of the way. Luckily for her, he’s never been a great fighter, and she throws up her arms to block his punch. He hits, though against her forearms, which stings like a bitch but it’s a whole lot better than getting the wind knocked out of her.
Normally she’d grin, pleased at the idea of a spar. Her and Erebor used to do stuff like this all the time, simply attack without warning. It had been fun for them though. For Korbin? Maybe he was finding a new way to talk to her.
Weaver attempts to grab his arm before he can pull it back to his body. Regardless of that success, she lunges forward with her right leg and brings her left knee toward his chest. Which is her being nice, because in a real fight she’d absolutely go for the groin. And though she’s fighting to win, she won’t be that mean.
Normally she’d grin, pleased at the idea of a spar. Her and Erebor used to do stuff like this all the time, simply attack without warning. It had been fun for them though. For Korbin? Maybe he was finding a new way to talk to her.
Weaver attempts to grab his arm before he can pull it back to his body. Regardless of that success, she lunges forward with her right leg and brings her left knee toward his chest. Which is her being nice, because in a real fight she’d absolutely go for the groin. And though she’s fighting to win, she won’t be that mean.
weaver
it’s dying without ever having lived
