Akari Tone - Whispering Puppets
Spoiled Bread
Blood splattered against the nearby wall in a sudden brushstroke. A soft -thwump- echoed, followed by several drips as Akari bodyflickered away, holding her shoulder with one hand, a deep gash in it as she rested against a nearby wall. She hadn't expected to be a 'sacrifice' today...
Why was she in a cult? She was just helping a maid clean! And looking at misplaced puppets! She hadn't even brought her bow! What was she supposed to do now...? Her cheeks flushed with anger at the man, and she left her cut arm for a moment, drawing her hunting knife.
At the next lunge, Akari kicked off the the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Her thoughts turned to her duel in the snow, to a flurry of kicks missing, and remembering how her opponent had spun, frictionless against the ground. The embarrassment as the fist rammed into her.
Akari's eyes opened as she changed the chakra in her feet, from stiff hold to flowing like water.
Akari suddenly slid against the ground, sliding under the knife lunatic like she was on ice.
Beigoma
Sliding across the room, Akari turned the technique off as she quickly rolled to her feet, flipping the knife blade down in throwing position.
She reeled her hand back, eyes focusing. Everything in the world started to slow as her focus fell on the feel of steel between her fingers, pupils narrowing. Her lungs slowly expanded, as if the world stood still.
She would not miss. Akari was many things; socially inept, scared, stubborn, proud, handy, but of all the things she was, the one that run true the most: A Sharpshooter.
Suddenly she exhaled, losing the focus, losing the breath. Her grip tightened so much, a sudden 'CRACK' echoed as spider webs ran down the steel of her knife. The breath was much, much more ragged.
S-she wouldn't miss... she knew it.
"S-stop!" She yelled out, suprisingly loud for Akari... almost audible levels. "I-If I have to hit you... I-I am n-not going to miss!"
Akari's fear was palpable. But... it wasn't fear that she'd screw up like most people. Her body had aimed and thrown so many times, it was coded into her, she could make a shot blind folded.
It was fear she'd hit. Even this lunatic Akari didn't want to hurt, even as her other arm throbbed, even as warm blood soaked down it, running to her wrist.
Gulping in ragged breaths, she shook her head as she noticed the flickering torch in the room. Akari took a deep breath, refocusing on the man, and pulling the knife she had back. Her breath narrowed again, and her hand curled up in a throwing position.
And Akari let her knife flying, aiming straight at the man's dagger trying to knock it out of his grip, and ricochet to the torch in the background to drown the room in black.
Spoiled Bread
Blood splattered against the nearby wall in a sudden brushstroke. A soft -thwump- echoed, followed by several drips as Akari bodyflickered away, holding her shoulder with one hand, a deep gash in it as she rested against a nearby wall. She hadn't expected to be a 'sacrifice' today...
Why was she in a cult? She was just helping a maid clean! And looking at misplaced puppets! She hadn't even brought her bow! What was she supposed to do now...? Her cheeks flushed with anger at the man, and she left her cut arm for a moment, drawing her hunting knife.
At the next lunge, Akari kicked off the the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Her thoughts turned to her duel in the snow, to a flurry of kicks missing, and remembering how her opponent had spun, frictionless against the ground. The embarrassment as the fist rammed into her.
Akari's eyes opened as she changed the chakra in her feet, from stiff hold to flowing like water.
Akari suddenly slid against the ground, sliding under the knife lunatic like she was on ice.
Beigoma
Sliding across the room, Akari turned the technique off as she quickly rolled to her feet, flipping the knife blade down in throwing position.
She reeled her hand back, eyes focusing. Everything in the world started to slow as her focus fell on the feel of steel between her fingers, pupils narrowing. Her lungs slowly expanded, as if the world stood still.
She would not miss. Akari was many things; socially inept, scared, stubborn, proud, handy, but of all the things she was, the one that run true the most: A Sharpshooter.
Suddenly she exhaled, losing the focus, losing the breath. Her grip tightened so much, a sudden 'CRACK' echoed as spider webs ran down the steel of her knife. The breath was much, much more ragged.
S-she wouldn't miss... she knew it.
"S-stop!" She yelled out, suprisingly loud for Akari... almost audible levels. "I-If I have to hit you... I-I am n-not going to miss!"
Akari's fear was palpable. But... it wasn't fear that she'd screw up like most people. Her body had aimed and thrown so many times, it was coded into her, she could make a shot blind folded.
It was fear she'd hit. Even this lunatic Akari didn't want to hurt, even as her other arm throbbed, even as warm blood soaked down it, running to her wrist.
Gulping in ragged breaths, she shook her head as she noticed the flickering torch in the room. Akari took a deep breath, refocusing on the man, and pulling the knife she had back. Her breath narrowed again, and her hand curled up in a throwing position.
And Akari let her knife flying, aiming straight at the man's dagger trying to knock it out of his grip, and ricochet to the torch in the background to drown the room in black.