Today was the day.
Yes, indeed, today was the day that Florentine would learn how to fight and not, well, die.
Since the fateful day when the flower girl, aged barely more than a yearling, had galloped rather fool hardily off to war and died, Flora had felt a bit of a crisis of confidence in her ability to survive a fight.
It was not an unreasonable worry, however, for history was not on her side and she was a creature made for smiles, petals and feathers. She was softness and warmth, caresses and soft laughs upon an evening breeze. Florentine was not hard kicks and savage teeth, wild eyes and strong sinew.
For all that the Dusk Emissary lacked in fighting skill and brawn, she more than made up for in keenness and bravery. Her brother had been the soft target in his sister’s search to find a sparring partner and Florentine did not linger on his acceptance of a battle enough to ponder whether it might have been ignorance or some ill-placed pity that saw him say yes.
By the time Florentine arrives, Asterion is already painting the Steppe with his nervousness. He is ever moving, not the gentle flow of a river, instead the electric spark of anxious nerves. Asterion’s anxiety is a balm to the, well, few nerves that Florentine had approaching this fight. The speed and bright-eyed manner with which the girl arrives is enough to betray her keen investment in this morning’s training session.
It had crossed the flower girl’s mind to ask Reichenbach to fight, but then, once she truly considered what that would actually entail she was not sure whether it would be a wise idea. The flower girl was distracted by him at the best of times, let alone when she actually had to attack him. There were far better things the Dusk girl had in mind to do with her Night boy…
She blinks.
She studies her brother and wonders how she never quite realized how similar he looked to her lover.
She blinks again.
Then coughs, just a little unsettled.
Are you ready?
“Yes!” The flower girl cries, a look of steely determination lining the curve of her eyelids. It is with such determination that Flora begins her charge. Golden hair and wild flowers fall across her eyes and she throws her head back to free her gaze and spot the lingering, nervous figure of her brother.
It all felt a bit of a frenzy.
There was little prior thought in the flower girl’s mind exactly what her first attack would be. She was not even sure, now she thought about it on the approach, what even constituted as a good attack.
Aislinn would know .
Florentine’s lips purse.
She pushes on harder, keeping her wings tight to her side, honing whatever glorious grace she thinks the Night Court’s warrior might possess. She aims her shoulder for her brother’s flank where the more fragile last rib gave way to the soft skin of his less protected side.
Was she going fast enough? Damned if she knew.
Was she balanced enough? Again, damned if she knew.
Her eyes feast upon his flank. Her mind was made up at last. Only time would tell whether it was a wise move or whether it was as disorganized as it felt. Either way she felt a sense of achievement as she reminded herself she would need to skitter clear of his hind legs – it was a particularly rogue one of those that killed her last time.
“How is Aislinn” Florentine asks, her eyes glittering, her breath a little short. “Been seeing each other long?” The festival had not been the time to ask, but now, now she had her brother’s full and undivided attention. If she was going to die here then she would at least like to know more details on her brother’s secret romance before she did. “You didn’t hang about long after arriving did you?”
@Asterion
Summary:Flora arrives and barges her brother's left flank and then decides to also attack him for details on his romance with Aislinn whilst she is at it.
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: None
Response Deadline: 04/11/17
Tags: @Asterion, @
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
