❛ i thinki tend to try different things because i can’t focus on one thing for too long. ❜ she looks at her weapon, soft gaze on her prized weaponry; she’d just recently sharpened and shined it and she could see her own reflection, eyes soft. she turns towards riven. ❛ i think that your abilities are nothing to scoff at, though — being such an expert at one thing takes resilience and determination. ❜
it had taken work ; strength training ; balance ; determination. the long sword was the first thing her eyes had lit up like the stars at night over. shurikens, no matter their size, felt strange and she struggled to feel in control with such things. the same had gone for kunai… and then there it was, a long sword that was once taller than even her ; it was heavy and it was beautiful even in it’s age. and now, her fingers curled at it’s hilt and though it was ‘broken’? it still felt as though it had it’s former glory and weight. further curiosity settled in her throat, ❛ it was the first weapon i saw that called to me — was that your first? ❜
❛ this is one of my most prized weapons. ❜ she holds in her hands a sickle attacked to a long chain. ❛ this is my kusarigama. ❜
amusement and admiration mingled upon riven’s features as she noted the pride in the young shinobi over her weaponry ; something so familiar to her. a calloused hand patted against her own weapon — a weighty, broken long sword with runic decorations indicative of how her own chakra would mix with it’s sharded edge to create a proper blade. ❛ — i have always done far better with a sword, i commend your versatility. ❜
so, in looking through her skins? i think there are only a few skins that will be a part of my portrayal be it timeline based or verses — both of which are very likely to say the least… those skins are as follows:
redeemed
dawnbringer
arcade
dragonblade (?)
battle bunny will not be anywhere on my blog. as for championship and crimson elite? i am not sure what i would do for them.
❛ well —————- ❜ she starts , peering down at the other woman from a thick tree bough , ankles crossed and batwings fluttering . chestnut eyes flick to the mangled corpse of a man at her feet , scarlet pooling from the wound in his chest cavity .
❛ are you just going to leave him like that ? what a waste . ❜
sweat beaded, specked across her brow as she was pulled from her own distraction — a view of blood. the fool, he had given her little choice. she pulled her broken blade from the corpse before her, her foot acting as pressure and leverage ; a soft spray of crimson followed suit. there is something gruff in how she clears her throat, eyes drifting to find the other before resting with some scrutiny on source of the voice, ❛ — the brigand brought it upon himself. ❜