AISHA
i lost the plot, or maybe two
It felt good to be welcomed, to find a familiar face so far from what she was accustomed to. She continued her pace until she reached her fellow warrior, her gaze shifting to the vampire gourd for a moment as it considered her and decided not to bother. She'd smashed quite a few of his vicious brethren recently, even if he took no interest in her it was a welcome change to not have to worry about sharpened teeth and raptorial conspiracies.
She returned her attention to Melita, her sparring partner for the time being. The younger woman looked good, not scarred or beaten by the past months. Aisha was always thankful to find a friend in good health, too often here that'd not been the case. Her suggestion was met with enthusiasm and agreement, and a prickle of excitement nipped at her skin. Her fingers curled around the burnished gold of her weapon, pulling it from it's sheath and giving it a quick twirl.
Balanced and ready, Aisha replied, "I can't imagine you need many," a compliment, fighter to fighter. She inhaled a deep breath, proud chest rising and falling as the air flowed through her body and out. Calm filled her, soothing and cool against her tongue as it swept down and through her blood stream. Muscles relaxed and posture taken, she was ready to begin.
She gave her opponent a slight nod, a signal of her preparedness, then she pressed forward; heels digging into the bed of rock and pushing her onto the balls of her feet. The sword leads in this dance, her body is pulled along like a chain. She is an extension of the blade, simply the support it needs to fulfill it's machinations. Her strong stance follows the thrust, digging in with her form prepared for the counter and the point of her sword is aimed for the air by Melita's side. She wouldn't chance actually causing damage, but she would encourage defense, retaliation.
She returned her attention to Melita, her sparring partner for the time being. The younger woman looked good, not scarred or beaten by the past months. Aisha was always thankful to find a friend in good health, too often here that'd not been the case. Her suggestion was met with enthusiasm and agreement, and a prickle of excitement nipped at her skin. Her fingers curled around the burnished gold of her weapon, pulling it from it's sheath and giving it a quick twirl.
Balanced and ready, Aisha replied, "I can't imagine you need many," a compliment, fighter to fighter. She inhaled a deep breath, proud chest rising and falling as the air flowed through her body and out. Calm filled her, soothing and cool against her tongue as it swept down and through her blood stream. Muscles relaxed and posture taken, she was ready to begin.
She gave her opponent a slight nod, a signal of her preparedness, then she pressed forward; heels digging into the bed of rock and pushing her onto the balls of her feet. The sword leads in this dance, her body is pulled along like a chain. She is an extension of the blade, simply the support it needs to fulfill it's machinations. Her strong stance follows the thrust, digging in with her form prepared for the counter and the point of her sword is aimed for the air by Melita's side. She wouldn't chance actually causing damage, but she would encourage defense, retaliation.
remind me who the fuck are you?
