Dodge. One step to the left was all it took. Dodge. The next a quick dip of her body to avoid the swing. Dodge. While her mind told her to do such her body react differently. Muscle memory bringing her hands to raise up in block of a weapon. The key to this being that she herself needed to be holding on in hand. Instead was there nothingness that not even the swiftest swerve off could protect her from damage.
They chattered at her now with their jaws as if laughing in mockery towards her disposition. Her own face hardening in frustration as she grasped at her upper arm. Palm applying pressure to help quell the bleeding red across her white shirt.
She was meant to be a knight. To fight, to serve, to protect. And yet--
In her hand was only fear held. The last memory of her sword more a nightmare than a blissful dream. Filthy, ruined, honorableness, and nothing she wished to see again. While she had manifested here with little remnants of the war she escaped from. She not dare risk any sign of its return. This is why she is stuck now against this grouping of skeletons like a simple civilian. One who lived simply off the thought of dodge. Dodge so she may live.
@filia-florum
