[ She was on the defensive now, catching blows as quickly as they came but steadily working her way back. Sparks flew from the blade-to-blade clashes, bits of lacquer were cut away parrying his scabbard.
She really did wish she had the use of her other hand, right about then. But she reminded herself the goal wasn't to beat him...
Every time her blade seemed to move to just the right place it needed to be. Was she simply reading him, or was it something else? Where was the line between talent and skill, here? It was almost impossible to tell.
Eventually, she leapt back to give herself more distance, sword steady before her. ]
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She really did wish she had the use of her other hand, right about then. But she reminded herself the goal wasn't to beat him...
Every time her blade seemed to move to just the right place it needed to be. Was she simply reading him, or was it something else? Where was the line between talent and skill, here? It was almost impossible to tell.
Eventually, she leapt back to give herself more distance, sword steady before her. ]
Your sword almost agrees with you... Almost.