a pout forms over her lips, gaze flickering towards the sword that rest comfortably in her grip, and then back to him, “ what kind of a fighting ring doesn’t allow swords ? it’s the only proper way to do so ! ” her foot stomps on the ground, akin to a child on the verge of a tantrum. she cared little for her missions, finding them boring and lackluster — it was the person she could be masquerade as when holding a sword, basking in fleeting glory : that made it worth everything. taking a small steps towards him, she raises the tip of her sword in his direction, just a spot away from tapping at the front of his coat. “ it can’t be the only one around here, right ? ”