NaPoWriMo 8: The Fair Maiden's Blade

The knife glints, flashes words of deceit.
She handles it with careless confidence, dress floating in the breeze.
Its hilt is pure silver, the blade pure gold.
And her hair is is caught in between, a mix of the two.
Her lips are parted in a vicious smile, eyes wide with fraudulent innocence.
Long, supple legs bend and jump.
Muscled arms swing and center on her target.
The fair maiden's blade screams through the air, twisting and hurling.

Twisting and hurling at me.

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