>>6131625Like always — swords before words. You pull Willow in one of the ships’ secluded rooms. It’s empty, save for a tiny hammock someone built in the corner. Wonder what that’s used for… but right now you don’t have time to think about this.
“Take your armour off,” you say, starting to do it yourself.
“What?”
“I want this to feel real.”
You take off your chest piece, showing your cameo and your shirt — Willow frowns, shakes her head, and her cheeks flaming, she starts to reach for the joints in her armour.
“Please turn around.”
It’s not like her to be so modest, but you comply with a shrug. It’s her choice. When you turn back, Willow has taken off her entire armour, laying in a pile in the corner. She tosses it one last antsy look and then she faces you, already raising her sword. You do the same, pacing back and forth — the silver light from outside cuts through the darkness. Willow would hold another advantage like that — her low-light vision is far better than yours.
You do not really care.
“Is the Crow nearby?”
“No.”
“That’s a relief.” You choose the Lion’s stance, aiming your white-rimmed sword at her.
“Why are you so worked up now?” Willow asks, as you dash to her right. She parries your lunge easily, as if an afterthought, even with the overwhelming advantage of your weapon compared to hers. “What happened?”
“I can’t see you like that. Hence I have decided to peel off the layers you cover yourself with, one by one.” You allow yourself a smirk, rising your weapon again. “I have my peeler right here.”
She sighs.
“I’m not in the mood for a fight, Argia. Especially not a fight with you.”
“Think of it as training, then!” You dash again, and once again Willow easily parries your swing, sparks flying off the edge of your swords.
[cont.]
