If anyone can suggest a name for this peice it would be welcome as I cant seem to think of one at the moment. :)

Curved blades clasped in hand. Each one about a mans arm length, pure beauty in the most caressed of steel. They captured light as spun through the air each one slicing through flesh and splintered bone. Droplets of blood kissed the figure of silver gently rolling off one by one onto the ground.
The clothes tightly woven into hard leathers, thickened with the strength of stitching, to create a shield that bends around body.
Sliding eyes down leg, past knee caps, just inside a pair of tough, skin boots. Created as if made to crush skulls, to inflict injury. Hiding just beyond the rim lies a small poison knife. A final blow to a predator from a seemingly more vulnerable prey.
Limbs dance in gases invisible to naked retina. Blurred stands the object of the description as a many hundred of faces try to break away from ranks and capture this free spirit. Tear it apart with a smiling bone.
Voice echos, manic, not one ounce of distress escapes the speech it provides. Growling the mass of liquid beacons its assassins, licking past its interior to the outside of the walls, through the main door that food may pass.
Drooling as erupts a singular of boxed emotions. Being frightened had not ever been an option.
The fighting continues, many upon one. Each other slain, upon that ones blades. Not out of love, hatred, hopelessness,or even defence. But because that was what the person was trained to do, even when driven mad with the apocalypse that was inserted inside her head.

A.M.Dale

04/02/12