alke: (Default)
ossan ([personal profile] alke) wrote in [community profile] artcg 2017-12-03 12:18 am (UTC)

random shit



Ileane blinks, once, twice. The only thing that keeps her from walking out the door and ignoring the most recent annoyance in her life is the memory her question brings up - rain, wind, mud in her eyes, blood, blood, blood, fight or die. She blinks again, and turns, not exactly on her heel, but something thereof so she’s able to cast a gaze over her shoulder at the xaela who is suddenly shy and withdrawn where she had been invasive.

The axe holstered to her back is a great weapon, almost as long as she is tall, with a haft of metal hardwood and leather, and a great head of crimson molybdneum. It’s been her weapon of choice for so long she barely registers its weight, but its hardly weightless. Half her fighting style comes from making the most use of the momentum generated by the axe, letting its arc carry her across the battlefield.

“ It is not nothing,” Ileane says, eyes staring at some point above the xaela’s shoulder, “ but it was fight or die, and I lived. ”

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