MABEL
A very mulish expression settled over the youth’s features before she righted herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear the notions; but the repercussions of her own antics and defenses weren’t much to be savored. It hadn’t been what she’d meant anyway, by measures of pain – simply that her body no longer reacted to it. She could be movement and motion, but only for so long, apparently, until something within her gave out.
So Mabel merely nodded, taking the information for what it was worth, and shifted back to the stance. When the other woman came at her again, on different angles and trajectories, the youth turned, shifted, in accord, extending that free hand to block, to knock away, to defend (an entirely different nuance). Quicker and swifter in the folds of moonlight and shadow, she might have actually had a chance to do something.
Then she reached, reached, reached with her dagger, as if to make a passing glance, blow, or dig, into the Torchliner’s ribcage.
So Mabel merely nodded, taking the information for what it was worth, and shifted back to the stance. When the other woman came at her again, on different angles and trajectories, the youth turned, shifted, in accord, extending that free hand to block, to knock away, to defend (an entirely different nuance). Quicker and swifter in the folds of moonlight and shadow, she might have actually had a chance to do something.
Then she reached, reached, reached with her dagger, as if to make a passing glance, blow, or dig, into the Torchliner’s ribcage.
Let's go to war to make peace
Let's be cold to create heat
Let's be cold to create heat
