A woman stands at one end of a fencing corridor, the other end is curtained in shadow. If she squints she can just see the outline of what might be chair. That chair marks the end point of her trial. The only thing separating her from that chair is the line of sabers laid end to end across the floor. The moonlight spills into the dark room causing the swords on the floor to gleam softly. As she walks towards the blades she makes herself walk with the deliberate care that one would normally see in someone who knew they were more than a little drunk even though she is stone sober. Her eyes lock and what might be a chair as she places her bare foot on the cold steel of the first blade she near looks away. Even as her feet slip and she stumbles across the shap blades heedless of the tiny nicks in her skin. . As she steps off the last blade she stumbles in front of the chair and strong arms and a kind face reach for her before she falls. "It's ok. you're safe. I'm here."
( a picture that popped in my head but i think is speaks loud enough)
On bended knee,
Silver
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