MELITA
The honeybee youth had utilized footwork before – a common practice in implementing her staff movements, hand-to-hand combat with Hotaru, and now with daggers. Ordinarily she would merely ground herself, put her weight into her feet, feel as though she moved across the sanction of the earth with power, poise, pushing off its ramparts with fervent ease. This one seemed more rigid in its structure, so she nodded, indicating her listening, as her eyes followed the movements of his limbs. A triangle she mused, gaze glinting down towards her feet, bare again, turning and twisting them so they aligned with the way she positioned her hands. Her stare raised once more to him as he slowed the attack down, the movements precise, so she could snag, catch at it, turn and churn it into her own mind. They narrowed in speculation – somehow adverse to the close quarters, to the layers mustered in daggers – she rather enjoyed the extension of her staff, the range of the bow, comfortable and formidable from a distance. These intricacies meant one wrong move and she could be damned.
On a breath, she adjusted herself, taking in the directions, molding into her stance. The weapon in her palm sang, ready, willing, and able, and so he right hand struck forward, as if to swipe at his arm.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
