Anju
I am a a princess with lips made of glass
Anju observes Flora in a far more blatant manner, Talyson's deflation reserved to her peripheral. The Dragoon grins, amused. "It is the one thing men do not lie about," she concedes, and though she is not suave enough to flirt herself, the soldier is not blind to its presence. "That does not mean they do not lie about the supposed prowess that replaces it." With no Dragoons left, Anju has been rather disappointed with the state of most of the men and women that remain as suitable bed companions.
But there are other things to do than mock Talyson and his gender at large. Though she is dying to ask what Flora meant by 'creating' an image, she is practically conditioned to pick up any weapons presented to her. Though this one is far more magical than she's used to, it doesn't dissuade her from stepping up to the sticks on the grass and testing the weight and balance of the dagger in her hand before slashing it horizontally from a distance, using the target's width as a guide.
But there are other things to do than mock Talyson and his gender at large. Though she is dying to ask what Flora meant by 'creating' an image, she is practically conditioned to pick up any weapons presented to her. Though this one is far more magical than she's used to, it doesn't dissuade her from stepping up to the sticks on the grass and testing the weight and balance of the dagger in her hand before slashing it horizontally from a distance, using the target's width as a guide.
and a voice cut from steel
