The black cloth falls softly to the floor. Beneath it is only the lethal sheen of steel.
Ten thousand years of tradition, Griddle.
I don’t have ten thousand years of tradition, bitch. I have ten years of two-hander training and a minor allergy to face paint. I’m worth so much less to you with pizza face and a toothpick.
Gideon reaches for the longsword like a woman in a dream. The skeleton's joints sigh in relief as she lifts it, hefts its weight.
It isn't her beloved two-hander, but fuck! It'll get the job done. It's wickedly sharp and well cared-for, and she's pretty sure she recognizes it from her trip to the forge.
She looks to Harrow, and back to the sword, and back again, and finally says, stupidly: "I didn't get you anything."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-10-21 02:06 am (UTC)Ten thousand years of tradition, Griddle.
I don’t have ten thousand years of tradition, bitch. I have ten years of two-hander training and a minor allergy to face paint. I’m worth so much less to you with pizza face and a toothpick.
Gideon reaches for the longsword like a woman in a dream. The skeleton's joints sigh in relief as she lifts it, hefts its weight.
It isn't her beloved two-hander, but fuck! It'll get the job done. It's wickedly sharp and well cared-for, and she's pretty sure she recognizes it from her trip to the forge.
She looks to Harrow, and back to the sword, and back again, and finally says, stupidly: "I didn't get you anything."