A blade to protect (open) - Sunflower Beach

Rolf hadn't shown up, which was worrisome if the Caitiff was to be honest, but Gangrels sometimes wandered right? Maybe he'd simply felt the need to spread his wings and get out of town for a while, or something. She'd give it a little more time if nothing else before she started looking. Because despite what people said about him, despite the creepyness, despite the fact that he had in fact thrown her to the ground and bitten her, he didn't strike her as the type who'd go back on his word.

So... perhaps something had happened... and if something had happened to him... in all honesty between the attack and him disappearing off the radar, not to mention how she'd worried Medwyn...

The Caitiff stood in the garden, barefoot and with her hair the medium length of flowing curls that it always had when she woke up, dressed in light summer clothing: linen pants, cotton tank top and Medwyn's shirt let unbuttoned and with the sleeves folded back. It was still much to big for her, but she liked it, she'd kept it since she'd spent that night at Jamie's.

What was out of character though was the fact that she wasn't actually gardening or playing around. For once? For once the blond appeared serious as she flexed her fingers around the handles of the two masterfully (beyond mortal capability even) knives, repeating the movements she'd been taught, the same patterns and maneuvers she'd once trained to be prepared.

Everyone thought her soft. And she was, even she'd admit she was soft. But she wasn't helpless even if she came across as it. Lately though...

She made another swing of the blade, her style fluent but obviously not meant for show, every strike and movement designed by someone who'd been taught to play dirty, the dogtags around her neck making a clinking sound as they were bounced around.

She wasn't worried for herself. But she'd worried others... she'd worried Rai. She'd worried Ethan. She'd worried Jamie. She'd worried Grace. And she'd worried Medwyn. More than anything it bothered her that she'd worried Medwyn and she couldn't allow that to continue. Even if she hated picking up her weapons, even if she hated the idea of fighting. She just.. needed to convince herself that she was prepared if something did happen again. That she still remembered how to fight and more importantly, that she had the mindset to fight if needed be.

The blond didn't want to see that look in her lover's eyes again. The one that told her he worried, that he was angry at the ones who'd hurt her. She wanted him to be safe, in every possible way, also from worry of her.

Again the blades cut through the air, her body moving with a kind of grace most humans could only ever dream of achieving. A quick series of jabs and slices in rapid succession. The blades handled as if an extension of her own body.
She moved like a streetfighter, the open shirt flowing in the nightbreeze as for once, all she heard was the sound of the sea, the movement of fabric and her own naked feet across the grass. No music to dull her senses.

For her own sake she could take a lot. She could take a lot of beating and abuse. But for Medwyn? For Medwyn she'd fight, she'd defend herself. She'd defend him.

She wasn't useless. She wasn't.

FTB