The rib wound was bad. Not deep enough to strike the heart,
but deep enough to bleed goddamn everywhere and make Augustine’s desperate retreat
up the mountain a complete agony. Worse was the pain of memory:
the other (untainted, honorable, good)
knight’s lip curled in disgust. Her boot hammering down on August’s pinned blade.
The whine of warping steel. The shattering.
Finished thissketch! And a lil flavor text about the previously described scenario that led up to this. Poor August, at least they got a bitchin’ impractical anime sword outta the deal.