This isn't right" she commented, before swinging around so her blade
touched his throat. Before he bled, she pulled her blade away. Both her
hands gripped the broad sword, white knuckled. Her movements were jerky,
her body unaccustomed to the weight of her weapon. He laughed at her, once
so fluid, now unsteady. Her bitter determination and her sweat, her
powerful beauty, she wasn't of this world. He knew that, he knew that too
soon she could overpower him. He knew her anger. Each swing was harder to
block, and each swing had more confidence.
Suddenly, she leaped above him and dropped the heavy sword. From a concealed place somewhere in her kimono she pulled out a dagger. The sun blinded him and she landed in front of him. She obviously meant to miss him.
"You can't do that!" he cried in vain. Her cold eyes just watched him. In his head, he laughed; she was never one to play by the rules. "I win."
Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pressed his lips against hers. Immediately, her eyes grew wide in fear, though she knew that would happen. But she let it happen, her eyes slowly closing. Fear was not the emotion she felt.
Nor was it anger.
Her dagger was pressed against his chest. But she dropped that too.
"I can't teach you anymore about broadsword fighting," he said. Her tongue ran across her lips, her scarred lips. Enveloped in his musky aura she couldn't think straight. All she knew was that she had lost her honor and dignity. He was not from this country, he couldn't understand. For men, it wouldn't be such a problem. But she was bound to him, just like his arms embraced her.
Breaking apart, she leaned down and grabbed her dagger.
"You destroyed my honor, now I will have to destroy you," she said, though she lied. Fact: she had to kill him to keep honor if she stayed in this country, but fact: she didn't have to stay in this country. Without fighting her, he let her grab his hand and turn it so the fleshy underside of his arm shown. She ran the blade along his arms and ran, leaving him bleeding.
In a nearby river, she let her memories wash away with her filth. Her clothes lay in a grubby heap on the back until a man picked them up. She didn't hear him until he already had her clothes and was walking away.
"You have to get them from me!" he called back. In the water, her nudity was so noticeable. So were her weaknesses. Realizing her honor was gone already; she stood up and followed him. He turned at her footsteps. And she just stood there, naked, the sun drying her pale legs and stomach. The slight breeze made her hair ruffle and wave, whispering her thoughts.
He said, "You shouldn't care." Tears burned her cheeks and forged paths down her face. It was the first time she had cried in years, and it didn't change anything. Muscles tightened and relaxed, her heart beat like thunder in her chest, and her eyes glittered like lightning. Her ears picked up the tiniest insect and her hand reached for his dagger. Unsheathing it, she ran the blade along the fleshy part of her arm. She painted her face, her breasts, her stomach with blood like war paint. Her eyes shone red with blood.
"I don't care," she whispered until the sun dried the blood brown.
"You are still honorable," he whispered until she believed him. Touching his face with one finger, she drew a line of blood across his cheekbones and over his nose. Finally, she accepted the white robe he handed her in place of her dirty clothes.
Suddenly, she leaped above him and dropped the heavy sword. From a concealed place somewhere in her kimono she pulled out a dagger. The sun blinded him and she landed in front of him. She obviously meant to miss him.
"You can't do that!" he cried in vain. Her cold eyes just watched him. In his head, he laughed; she was never one to play by the rules. "I win."
Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pressed his lips against hers. Immediately, her eyes grew wide in fear, though she knew that would happen. But she let it happen, her eyes slowly closing. Fear was not the emotion she felt.
Nor was it anger.
Her dagger was pressed against his chest. But she dropped that too.
"I can't teach you anymore about broadsword fighting," he said. Her tongue ran across her lips, her scarred lips. Enveloped in his musky aura she couldn't think straight. All she knew was that she had lost her honor and dignity. He was not from this country, he couldn't understand. For men, it wouldn't be such a problem. But she was bound to him, just like his arms embraced her.
Breaking apart, she leaned down and grabbed her dagger.
"You destroyed my honor, now I will have to destroy you," she said, though she lied. Fact: she had to kill him to keep honor if she stayed in this country, but fact: she didn't have to stay in this country. Without fighting her, he let her grab his hand and turn it so the fleshy underside of his arm shown. She ran the blade along his arms and ran, leaving him bleeding.
In a nearby river, she let her memories wash away with her filth. Her clothes lay in a grubby heap on the back until a man picked them up. She didn't hear him until he already had her clothes and was walking away.
"You have to get them from me!" he called back. In the water, her nudity was so noticeable. So were her weaknesses. Realizing her honor was gone already; she stood up and followed him. He turned at her footsteps. And she just stood there, naked, the sun drying her pale legs and stomach. The slight breeze made her hair ruffle and wave, whispering her thoughts.
He said, "You shouldn't care." Tears burned her cheeks and forged paths down her face. It was the first time she had cried in years, and it didn't change anything. Muscles tightened and relaxed, her heart beat like thunder in her chest, and her eyes glittered like lightning. Her ears picked up the tiniest insect and her hand reached for his dagger. Unsheathing it, she ran the blade along the fleshy part of her arm. She painted her face, her breasts, her stomach with blood like war paint. Her eyes shone red with blood.
"I don't care," she whispered until the sun dried the blood brown.
"You are still honorable," he whispered until she believed him. Touching his face with one finger, she drew a line of blood across his cheekbones and over his nose. Finally, she accepted the white robe he handed her in place of her dirty clothes.