Swords (OCtober 20)

Amber Steelclaw

cns gore, death

Inhale. Kneel. Focus. Exhale. Go.

Amber darted upwards, daggers in hand. Their golden eyes, calm as the eye of the storm just a second ago, filled with the controlled rage they knew so well. The mercenary in front of her died before he even knew what was happening, but his friend was still standing. That was unacceptable. Amber’s arm swung around, adjusting their hold of the blade a little. As it reached the perfect point in it’s arc, Amber let go, ever so slightly correcting the dagger’s trajectory with their palm.

The weapon left their hand spinning, reflecting the sunlight that fell through the leaves of the meadow around them. For a moment Amber could see the terrified face of the man distorted on the polished back of the blade. It reminded them of how their father had looked when they first tried her newly found skills on him. The blade spun, whistling as it rushed through the air, and when the man fell over, gagging and spluttering from a throat that would never draw a breath again, Amber found themselves reminded of their father once more.

Neither of them had had time to draw the swords that were uselessly attached to their backs like the grotesquely out of scale steel bars they were. Neither of them had deserved to live a single moment longer. And neither of them had seen their impending doom coming. When Amber knelt down the second time, coming to rest in the position they begun in, their heartbeat was perfectly calm again.

Unlike their beloved Xaro, killing didn’t trouble them. So they took it upon themselves to do it for him. In their opinon, fighting was easy. They just didn’t understand why everyone was so obsessed with these big swords.