Nightfall flowed from one stance to the next, sending his blades through patterns that would protect and attack. He moved gracefully through the mess still left at Glissade, reliving the day, his fights, and the time spent with Myah. As they had moved together, so he moved now, fluid, art in motion. The weapons manual was fully his own, blending the different methods he had learned as well as the art of the dance. It was a... performance. A flawless, inhuman performance that sung to his Fae inheritance, and evoked all that was Fair. Even Myah, a world-class dancer and blademaster in her own right, couldn't match, or even copy this -- and he felt the Wyrd embrace it, sanctifying his beauty.

[banner]nf[/banner]