Jul 19, 2014
dimidiium
Hollow echoes belay the softer steps of shoes against pavement, nary a suspicious note to resonate in familiar footfalls. Swan neck cranes, cracking from stiff posture whilst shoulders slump beneath ebony cotton. Her jaw clacks, teeth grinding, and nose crunching with forced disgusted -- a hard hand is what she has to work with, a rapport second to none and a serious drive unbeknownst. His training falls to her, amongst others, but it's with a measure of pride she takes in it -- their skill together a synchronized beauty. If not for his sake she does this, then certainly her own.
❝You're late. Again. ❞