Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-19164168-20170525105952/@comment-25073873-20170609004835

Amaryllis seemed to have already gotten active, since she wasn't really sleeping, or perhaps just woke up early. She was simply twirling another sword that seemed to belong to her, like she was dancing, the blade leaving a trail of pink petals as she moved it around her.

The sword itself was beautiful, and couldn't have been Amaryllis' Katana for it was obviously a broadsword of sorts, with an intricate hilt and straight blade. Each move was graceful and lithe, as she practiced something greater.

Yet, each slash was undeniably lethal to a trained eye. Not only that, but even the scattering petals felt twisted, destructive...