She curled her claws in preparation for the Pressing;Eyes dark as midnight, Damascus tuned out the rage,focusing it on the one who stood before her.’Your goggles,’ Cappy whispered from the right,but she refused to acknowledge himlest her concentration be broken.She stopped, toe to toe with her adversaryand smiled.Damascus was close enough to feel the fear emanating from the girland knewshe would regain her throne this night.
Please don’t ask because I don’t know where this came from. I offer 76 words of fighting power (in a magical sort of way, I think) for this week’s VisDare. Click the photo to visit the prompt.
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