your tongue is twisted, your teeth are nails
Honestly, Letha couldn't remember to tell him with confidence if she had ever worked with a sword before. Nevertheless, she stepped forward and took the wooden weapon from the crafter. "I guess we will see." Maybe they would both be surprised, today. the weight of the weapon felt balanced in her hand as she took a step back and lifted it some. She grasped the hilt carefully, before turning her body in a way that she had watched Amun do as she approached.
It felt familiar.
Whether Letha remembered it or not, warfare was in her blood. Her maternal grandmother was a legend mercenary, her paternal grandfather a fiery warlord. Her parents, though choosing a life of crafting, did well to at least teach their children something of their ancestry. Twisting again, a spark lit the corner of Letha's eye and she struck towards Amun's leftside ribcage.
they drove your voice in your throat
Letha
