[Day 1] Sabre Round 1: Ghram vs. Harvard

This morning I woke with a smile sewn to my lips.

Her head was cradled against my chest, arms around her shoulder with fingers tangled together and-

she was everything. In that moment there was nothing else left to see but her eyes fluttering in dawn's light, like the wings of a butterfly landed upon her nose and the touching of eyelashes when we were small and things were simpler and kisses upon the apples of her cheeks were nothing but that.

They carried no weight, no strings. It was not wrong to pull Delilah into my lap and run my fingers through her hair until it was nothing but black silk to fall between the gaps in my fingers and-

I'm not sure when that changed. When my love went from endearing to some toxic, corrosive thing. It was simply not ladylike to treat another girl that way. That way. Like more than competition for the approval of a man. To yearn for a woman and not for her head upon a silver platter. My teachers would frown, no matter how tightly I wound my arm around Delilah's waist, fingers rested upon her hip and head tilted into her shoulder, I could not escape the silent screams of their constant judgement.

They raise us to be subservient, to bow 'neath the boot of a man unless he dare to raise his hand against us because then we have earned the right to strike back. To become more than the pretty porcelain doll sewn to his side with greedy fingers wrapped around our cracking skin an I know that I will never be what Delilah needs, maybe not even what she wants but there is nothing to stop my heart from racing whenever I can feel her breath upon my cheeks and her lips upon my ear.

We stand upon this battlefield as equal, him and I.

And I smile, because no matter if I win or lose it will be on even footing.

That's all I've ever wanted.

"Good day, sir." I nod to him but I do not bow.

I am beneath no man.

MZ9W|K6U1-4

He's talented. Half of a smile paints flushed cheeks and my eyes narrow and- concentrate. It's almost fun, feet bouncing off the floor and its like I am dancing. Falling. Back hitting white snow and burrowing my way into the tightly packed cotton. The haunting beauty of winter- bringing forth beauty from death and hanging ornaments off the lives it destroys.

And then the gruesome beauty gives way to rebirth. Fresh life breathed into withering plants and oh there has always been so much more than training. Than being the best. The world is filled with art left unappreciated by my more brutish brother and sisters.

To be delicate is strength in of itself.

symRhVqE1-4

One step. Two. Three step. Four. In between constant training there have been hobbies- plucked like flowers between delicate fingers. I danced, I sewed- I jumped from class to class just because I could. Because commitment was the devil to which I was always looking to escape. The only tether to a single spot is her smile, the hair that falls over her shoulders and becomes so tangled after a good night's sleep. Her hands laced within my own are all that's left to keep me grounded.

When I strike, my smile widens.

cGxywT8C1-4