but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
No time to revel in the bare-minimum successes; didn’t even get a chance to smirk or smile as she sent Amun sprawling to the ground. Everything was too quick – because that’s how life was – fleeting and rapid, swift and altering, and no enemies rested, no adversaries waited. There were many limbs at play now, with one of his hands shooting out, grabbing for her wrist, and she attempted to dodge, to shift, to reel away from the left, out of range.
This might have helped as his wooden blade came for her at the same time, and she swung, almost blindly, haphazardly, a reckless endeavor, intending to catch it again. Instead it placed her at an awkward angle, and for all her flailing, the edge of his blade tipped over hers, and still bruised against her shoulder. A feral hiss was all she concocted, before striving to sweep her sword back towards him, intending for somewhere along his chest.
This might have helped as his wooden blade came for her at the same time, and she swung, almost blindly, haphazardly, a reckless endeavor, intending to catch it again. Instead it placed her at an awkward angle, and for all her flailing, the edge of his blade tipped over hers, and still bruised against her shoulder. A feral hiss was all she concocted, before striving to sweep her sword back towards him, intending for somewhere along his chest.
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
