Dancing with Death
I dabble a little in a lot of things — writing, webcomics, gaming, photography, web design, music, and more. I’m a full-time code-wrangler with far, far too much to do.
Malika danced. Creatures emerged from the darkness all around her, and she whirled among them. Her steps were light, quick. She never remained still, never allowed the beasts to reach her. She was driven by need, fueled by the sword's own desire.
Blood flew through the air, except that which touched the blade. That it drank up greedily. With every kill more rust flaked off the weapon, exposing good steel in the blue flamelight. The fire itself became taller, more vibrant, the pungent smell of seared flesh filling the air.
She danced with death, even becoming death. The sword fed, but it granted her no special abilities. It simply reveled in her art. No, her talent was her own, taught to her by her father. He had once told her, "Malika, you fight like a ballerina, with a grace and beauty that is both terrible and exquisite to behold."
She stumbled with the memory, and claws passed a hair's breadth from her face. That snapped her attention back into focus, and she sent another beast to the halls of Ashmar.
Comments (4 so far!)
She's in control, right?
- #1710 Posted 2 years ago
That... well... it depends on your perspective, I suspect. She's a whirling dervish full of powerful emotions. You could say she's working some things out right now. :)
- #1713 Posted 2 years ago
Ah, the emotionally charged warrior with a dangerous weapon.
Which character were we talking about again? :)
- #1714 Posted 2 years ago
Hah! Oh, this is going to be so much fun when these two meet. :)
- #1715 Posted 2 years ago
Inspired by (sequel to):
With a speed and grace divine, Orthael spun to receive the blow to his shield. His foe held close, a…An Embrace Eternal
- Published 2 years ago.
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