lae'zel is walking by. simply walking. she had barely noticed shadowheart, especially not from her tent while sharpening her own blade. especially not how horrid her form was. especially not.
her arms crossed over her chest, a distinctively-judgemental grimace on her face. +
" a child could have better technique than you, shadowheart, " she finally says, cutting through the silence, as she approaches. " your grip is weak. you swing with hesitation. that gets you killed in battle. you must shield your center, unless you're giving me a free kill. +
๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ฎ๐ถ๐ญ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ, yes, i'm sure.
( she wants to wipe the smug grin right off the half-elf's face, her nose upturns, a huff of anger from her nostrils. out of everyone in this camp, shadowheart - somehow, her harshest words were always saved for her. )
keep holding your +
your mistake was putting yourself willingly within my line of sight, and then complaining about it.
( raising her brows, there's a smirk. )
as if you weren't in an equally-compromising position on the nautiloid. who was the one screaming for rescue, again? was that me? no.
"most tolerated".
( it makes her grimace, but she falls silent. for now. )
i make no promises if she initiates.
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( her nose scrunches. he is irritatingly thoughtful, especially when met with lae'zel's vitriol.
still, she huffs. )
it wouldn't make you any more or less tolerable. do so, or don't.
i detest the very notion. if a throat is going to be slit, i only hope it's hers.
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shadowheart, naturally, does that before even speaking. waking up every morning is a nightmare in itself.
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