Passing the Torch

{Been writing, just been too lazy to post.  This more or less makes up for it.}

The gentle hum of steel slipping across cloth vibrated in her ears as she pulled the knife away from the blanket and in front of her body, palms clammy and eyes unfocused.  Her breath choked in her throat as she coughed up some spittle from half a night of sleep, her usually razor-sharp senses blurred and meaningless as the twilight faded from her consciousness.  She breathed in the familiar scent of her bed, her ancient house, her sweat and hair as both trickled across her brow.  The edge of the blue-bladed knife glinted dully in the barely-existent rays that streamed through the shuttered window, while the point flicked to and fro in front of her, searching out its prey.

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My Opponent (continued)

Why?  Why do I fight the battle when I know I can win the war by not fighting?  I enjoy the fight, but the enjoyment lasts only while the fighting continues, and I cannot fight forever.  True joy lies in the peacetimes, and the fighting should be in an arena, or in a tournament; short bouts designed for the enjoyment of fighting.  Why do I desire to make fighting my life, when I know that it is not?

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My Opponent

My opponent.  A familiar foe, which I’ve fought before, many-a time.  His tactics are simple, yet powerful, for he preys on mind, not body.  He has won many battles, but long ago, I won the war.  I closed my mind off from him, removing his greatest weapon, and though the war was bloody, with ages lost to the pointless struggle, I was victorious.

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God’s Magic

“Look, I can’t stand it.  I can’t stand watching her come home, with that bleak look on her face, like nothing is ever going to change.  I can’t stand knowing how damn close she is to finding something that will give her hope, or a purpose, or whatever it is she needs right now.  And I can’t stand that I can’t help her cheat and bridge that tiny gap.

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