Lesson Number Two: FIRMLY GRASP IT


Sparkmarrow’s edge sliced into Tembovu too easily, as though it wasn’t a massive stud trying to fight me but a monstrous ball of animated cotton instead. That alone shook me--but I was grateful for that feeling of alarm. It’s hard to explain...Like, I knew I was being pulled into this fight, and I was starting to feel it, but I didn’t want to fall in a trap of enjoying hurting someone. I liked to fight, sure, and I liked fighting Tembovu like this--but my heart hitched at the feeling of Sparkmarrow pulling into his skin so smoothly, so disturbingly easily. There were no doubts about it; Sparkmarrow was powerful. And I was glad that I wasn’t gonna end up getting drunk off that.


My worry lasted all two seconds though, cuz Tembo was screaming GOOD SHIT at me (I’m paraphrasing, I dunno) and his hoof came out of nowhere, too fast and too near for me to react to with Sparkmarrow’s blade. He punched me in the face, right in my goddamn mouth, and that, along with my previous hesitation before, was enough to blow Sparkmarrow right through my teeth, the blade being flung down to the frozen grass.


“AWGH, BITCH,” I screamed on impulse, with a jaw and a set of teeth that felt bruised and fragile; I wasn’t sure if I was calling Tembo that or the sword that or what. Chico, from his vantage point snuggled right up against his ‘Bwenny girl, gave a show of his support with a coughing growl of laughter at my expense. T’ha, dumbass, he mocked through our mental link, scooting even closer to Mbwene with a rumbling purr in his chest. Wow, okay, jeez. Way to be a traitor so fast, man. (Ye.)


My next move was instant; on blind impulse, I gathered the spark that buzzed in my bones and aimed it square at Tembovu with a massive zpKA!! If this were a normal fight, I would’ve followed up with a charge, cuz all of me had the instinct to just go ham on his ass for landing a blow to my mouth like that (I ain’t hot on face-shots). But his blow was fair and this was a demonstration of Sparkmarrow. The blade was the focal point of this whole fight, and I couldn’t just…forget about it now.


So as the sparkbolt left my horn, I trusted its cover and ducked down, my lips fumbling for the hilt in the grass.

_______

A: 2/3
D: 0/1
WC: 418
Damage Tracker:
-Shard of glass caught in right hind foot
-Bruised mouth





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