no subject

[ She's out of practice — her muscles too used to holding a weapon with more weight behind it, less length. It'll take some work before she's back to a level she's comfortable with, let alone satisfied, but for now, there's sheer enjoyment in simply sparring.

At the swings, she hops back — recreates the distance that he closes, mindful of the distance she has left behind her. ] I never claimed you were. [ She responds, all with a single exhale. Teeth gritting as she rights the grip again, stops her momentum back to push forward again, tip pointed towards his sides for a strike.

Then another, and another. Three, in rapid succession, all aiming for the same spot ( still out of balance and not as quickly as she'd like it to be, but better. ) ]