she thinks of the challenges she'd seen, scant memories from well before she'd suffered the awkwardness of menarche in the desert alone. before she'd understood what they were for, what they really meant. how she'd laughed at those who'd yielded, scoffed at their weakness, unable to imagine that they'd never wanted to put up a fight against it even when cardeena had said, teeth bloody, you can have me the year she'd been united with quetzal.
the thoughts are scattered impressions. nothing she can pick through. nothing she wants to pick through, and certainly not now. she shakes them away. from her boot, she draws a long, wooden knife. when she spreads her heels into a fighter's stance, preparing for him, she opens her mind as well, feels outward at the impressions of him that are always just there, opens the gates that she tries so hard in stygia to hold shut. ]
no subject
[ it's not an option, now.
she thinks of the challenges she'd seen, scant memories from well before she'd suffered the awkwardness of menarche in the desert alone. before she'd understood what they were for, what they really meant. how she'd laughed at those who'd yielded, scoffed at their weakness, unable to imagine that they'd never wanted to put up a fight against it even when cardeena had said, teeth bloody, you can have me the year she'd been united with quetzal.
the thoughts are scattered impressions. nothing she can pick through. nothing she wants to pick through, and certainly not now. she shakes them away. from her boot, she draws a long, wooden knife. when she spreads her heels into a fighter's stance, preparing for him, she opens her mind as well, feels outward at the impressions of him that are always just there, opens the gates that she tries so hard in stygia to hold shut. ]