Memories still return to her every now and then, arbitrarily and in pieces.
She remembers their sparring now: how often they would engage in battle, be it of wits or combat. Both. She remembers the feeling it would evoke, much like it emerges in her now, watching him embody a certain deadliness. The glint of his dagger, the glint in his eye. The threat of ruin, and the choice to trust.
More than anything, she remembers that she trusts him.
It's only seconds, longer though it seems in the thick of it. Fine hairs stand at attention along her neck as she waits, dark clouds gathering above. She isn't sure if it is Anurr, or her husband's mood.
She has singed poor Wangji before in her attempts to time this right. Once Wrath gives her the sign, she hurls the mote, loosens it like an arrow notched. It forms a sustained arc of fire between it and herself, to ensure the damage is ongoing. To ensure it feels the full brunt of her assault, until it is char.
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She remembers their sparring now: how often they would engage in battle, be it of wits or combat. Both. She remembers the feeling it would evoke, much like it emerges in her now, watching him embody a certain deadliness. The glint of his dagger, the glint in his eye. The threat of ruin, and the choice to trust.
More than anything, she remembers that she trusts him.
It's only seconds, longer though it seems in the thick of it. Fine hairs stand at attention along her neck as she waits, dark clouds gathering above. She isn't sure if it is Anurr, or her husband's mood.
She has singed poor Wangji before in her attempts to time this right. Once Wrath gives her the sign, she hurls the mote, loosens it like an arrow notched. It forms a sustained arc of fire between it and herself, to ensure the damage is ongoing. To ensure it feels the full brunt of her assault, until it is char.