didntseeit: (gunslinger (of a kind))
Without really saying anything, Mal and Ajedrez have been meeting for fencing lessons. All winter, in fact, since Mal offered. All spring, too, and all of summer up to today and Ajedrez is getting very good at it. Some people are natural fighters, and for all her money and refined voice, Ajedrez is a natural fighter.

Still, she is only human and they've been at it for a while today, so when she pulls back she's breathing heavily and brown whisps of hair cling to her sweaty face.
didntseeit: (paying attention)
It is cold outside. Scotland, she thought she had overheard someone say, Scotland and November and it is fucking freezing.

Or maybe she just has thin blood from being Mexican born and bred.

But outside is better then inside, fresh air and late afternoon sun instead of alcohol and smoke and that…that…window. So she donned her boots and her jeans and pulled on a thick sweater and headed outside with a bottle of tequila to find a quiet spot somewhere.

Guns on her hips, of course, and some knives hidden under her clothes because, well, even without that heads’ up about Sands, Ajedrez just feels plain naked without her weapons.

Naked, and vulnerable.

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Ajedrez

October 2007

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