Selene (dealing_death) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-07-29 08:16:00 |
|
|||
Current music: | Muse: Bliss |
Entry tags: | aziraphale, selene |
Who: Selene
Where: St. Vibiana’s
When: Early evening a few days after she ran into Lindsey and Logan in the cemetery.
Why: No reason at all.
Status:Complete
Rating: So far…its very G
The main foyer of the church, where normally their would be pews makes a perfect place to practice. This is what the main floor of the church looks like….Main Floor. There are no pews and any church artifacts, save one cross above where the pulpit once was, are gone.
As still as a statue she kneeled upon the polished hardwood floor, palms down resting on her thighs. Waiting for her was a twosome of lustrous rapiers, styled more after their cousin Katana. Why bother to use such an outdated weapon as a blade? For Selene the gun was a very new invention, not that she did not love the power of good firearm. The weapons of a much older world always drew her attention. It took skill and devotion to wield them any fool could pick up a gun and fire, turning the inanimate object into a killing force. But, it took a skilled hand to make the sword more then a paper weight.
Like a ghost she moved. One moment she kneeled upon the floor, the next both blades were in her hands as she pushed off the ground with a soft breath of air and flipped her body back wards. The wide legs of her pants fluttered around her feet as she landed in a half crouch. One blade held high, the other at her waist poised to thrust forward and strike. A long elegant leg was stretched out behind her balancing the perfect pose.
Parting her lips she blew out a breath of air and sent the hair dangling in her face away. Stepping forward the short swords were drawn in a long X across her body. The metal cut through the air with a zing. She rolled her wrists as the blades came to her side, creating a wind from the furious movement. Dancing with nothing more then her own shadow Selene moved across the slick floor.
Watching her it might be safe to assume she was trained in ballet, though she had never taken a class. Her movements mimicked those of a graceful dancer as she thrust and sliced her way across the room with the pair of swords.
Tossing the weapons into the air she ran up the three short stairs that once led to the pulpit. Her feet pushed against the white marble wall as she ran the vertical plane. High enough now she dove off the wall backward like an Olympic diver. As she flipped her body over each hand caught hold of a leather wrapped handle. With the blades safely secured in her palms she landed on the ground in nearly the exact position she had began, only now she face the large archway over the double wooden doors that marked the entrance to the church.