4/9/2023 0 Comments Iron man bleeding edge armorYet here I was, lying next to a fierce, unshakable girl, chasing wants my parents never could. I’d come here to scrub my family’s debts away, the way papa’d always planned. Shivers prickled my skin as Myra’s fingers grazed mine beneath the coverlet as we hovered atop the precipice of a sudden, surprising want one that stretched wide, strong enough to tremble us both. A real retainership, salaried and everything.” “You could come along while I guard Qu’hell. if this college thing doesn’t work out, it’s money I can use for other stuff.” Which I’ll send back home,” she added quickly. “You know, I’ll have real money if I win this. We lay silent, lulled by the sound of tempermages netting Sight threads to redirect strong winds every few minutes, until Myra cleared her throat. Make her see what they’d be missing out on.” “Well, well.” Myra sounded genuinely impressed, legs dangling off her side of the mattress. By the time I’d fashioned her twists into a pompadour and flung her next wish into the world (this time, blessedly about easing her back pain), I practically fainted onto our only featherbed - but not before telling her about my meeting with Professor Ames. After stuffing ourselves with cured meats and rich breads in the victor’s tent, we retired to our lavishly decorated dorm room. That night, I made dragon scales of my emotions thrust everything I had into a belief in our ability to conjure dreams. It was a plea and a compact and hope bound up in one I latched onto it with both hands. “And I won’t underestimate you again, either.” “So, don’t count me out again.” A small smile lit her bruised face. I fight because I believe in what I’m fighting for, just like Murinien taught me.” Sun-warm and kiss-soft, her fingers burned against my wrists. “Because of the herb-gatherers they stole from us beneath swollen moons or the sick ones they maimed, just ‘cause they couldn’t lock their doors tight enough after dark. “Look Omani, I was born with a shit back, but it never stopped me from skinning wolf-wraiths, tail to snout. She let me worry over her scrapes a while more before catching my wrists. Something gentle flitted over Myra’s features. “Because I’m stronger than you think, and I’m not leaving until I find my way into the coif program.” Myra’s jaw quivered, but she didn’t back away. “Not without apologizing.” Though washrags littered the competitor’s tent, I tore cloth from my good trousers pressed in close to hold it against the cuts peppering her chin. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be heading toward the cloud ferries by now?” “It’s called a feint.” Myra rolled her eyes, though the left one had already grown puffy. My lungs were still convulsing, breaths coming hurried. “There’s the non-believer,” Myra called loudly. Though when she saw me enter, her excitement dimmed. Despite tepid applause, Myra shouted when the Empress called it, laugh-jogging to the preparatory tent as if her life hadn’t been in danger. It was a game of quickness after that, one that ended with Myra smashing her mailed boot into Thera’s chest plate. Off guard from the unexpected blow, Thera wobbled right into her grip, allowing Myra to slash up against the arm pinning her throat then low as Thera staggered backward, welling her shin red. Thrusting sharply, Myra rammed her knee into Thera’s spine. Then, everything shifted in the span of a blink. Abandoning my seat, I practically vaulted the stadium stairs while the crowd roared anew. ![]() ![]() With a deft foot sweep, Thera pinned Myra’s weakened form with ease. “Finally!” screamed the woman on my right. She might actually die here, among uncaring skyfolk, before I’d gotten a chance to. ![]() ![]() He elbowed my side just as Myra rolled from another of Thera’s crushing blows - but this time her shield split, leaving her gasping for breath and clutching her side. We’re all really here to see Giralt the Grand, am I right?” “How long have they been fighting?” I’d arrived minutes ago. “How long?” I choked out to man one on my left. That thought haunted me while I watched her match from a cramped stadium seat, wedged in between two bettors who could only complain about how boring the ‘underlands scruff’ were. Clambering up, she swayed gracelessly, swiping away the blood marring her chin. That rockface would’ve been Myra, had she not pitched away at the last second. Instead of shattering, the veiny rock split with a squelch that came from sliding against itself too dense to crumble, yet still capable of being broken. Thera the Thrasher demonstrated this by cleaving her warhammer into the space where Myra’d lain moments ago. When marble cracks, it isn’t loud - or at least, not in the way I thought it’d be.
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