@ignicracy
She inhales slowly, looking out at the horizon from the shore. There was something oddly comforting about an ocean breeze, though she typically prefers the woods. Either way, the salt winds brushed across her face, and she squats in the sand, palming a sea shell. The wooden pole the powers that be so kindly gifted her lay on the ground beside her. Irritating; a disgrace, really. She could use it well, but that didn’t make it any less...childish. If anything it just reminds her of some of her earlier training, before her father would let her wield steel. She pockets the seashell, stands and twirls the wooden weapon in her hands with finesse. Simple forms, anything to keep her skills sharp. But her skills will always, always be sharper than her senses, and as she swings the pole backwards, she feels it connect. And she hears a loud, pained grunt. “Oh, shit.” She sticks the weapon in the ground and turns around, and turns to look at the poor, unfortunate soul she so carelessly thwapped. Unable to think of a proper apology, and just plain not caring to, she offers a wide grin and a chuckle. “There’s a safe distance you’re supposed to keep from someone holding a weapon, you know.”