[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/bKnH0lu.png[/img][/center]
[hr][center][h3]~1443 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE[/h3][/center][hr]

Vera had no time to gloat seeing her cut strike true and cleaving part of the calcified tail from the dragon. She wouldn't have. Today the dragon. Tomorrow her. Today her or tomorrow the dragon. It didn't matter. It was only a matter of time. True death loomed. It always waited. She suspected, even if she did not know it true. She was a tool. She was a weapon. She would spend her efforts wisely. She would be a cog in the machine. Once and forever more. She did not challenge her fate. It was all she deserved. It was all any of them deserved.

She hoped Lucian was moving. She hoped Lucian was alright. Celeste she would worry about later. Civilians were not a concern when there were dragons. Thoughts did not slow her. She wasn't thinking. Not really.

Moving to avoid the angry dragon with an open mouth of razor sharp teeth flying towards her, Vera tried to dodge, channeling another swing, with the hope at least of proper timing into a parry. Followed by a riposte. A word she vaguely remembered. Channeling a defensive strike into a deadly blow. 

Short parry...parry and then strike.