[Their swords meet sharply, and she clings to the sword she has with all of her strength. He's predicting her moves so well that it's scary, and it's making it very difficult to get the drop on him. And then he ducks out of the way suddenly, and the loss of that force in front of her leads to Morgan stumbling forward a few steps, just as he planned.
But she predicts what he's going to do, just as he predicts her.
This Morgan was, of course, never trained by Chrom. Her father married another, and so skilled swordswoman as she is, she isn't the Exalt's daughter. That singular title belongs to Lucina--and apparently, the Exalt's son to the Morgan in front of her. Regardless, it means she doesn't have the time or skill to bring her sword down to block the blow he strikes towards her chest, and she can't dodge either, off-balance as she is. It's a last-ditch effort, but she's good at those, and so she brings the tome she never quite secured away up to her chest as fast as she can.
The sword hilt slams into the book (which slams into her chest, still knocking the breath from her lungs), but it doesn't connect directly, and she supposes that has to be good enough. She staggers backwards, breathing harshly, not attacking in return yet as she takes the chance to try to gulp in air.]
He's...my father! And he's...the most...amazing person...you'll ever see!
[She scowls at him, but there's a hint of desperation there. If Grima isn't her father...it means her father is dead.
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But she predicts what he's going to do, just as he predicts her.
This Morgan was, of course, never trained by Chrom. Her father married another, and so skilled swordswoman as she is, she isn't the Exalt's daughter. That singular title belongs to Lucina--and apparently, the Exalt's son to the Morgan in front of her. Regardless, it means she doesn't have the time or skill to bring her sword down to block the blow he strikes towards her chest, and she can't dodge either, off-balance as she is. It's a last-ditch effort, but she's good at those, and so she brings the tome she never quite secured away up to her chest as fast as she can.
The sword hilt slams into the book (which slams into her chest, still knocking the breath from her lungs), but it doesn't connect directly, and she supposes that has to be good enough. She staggers backwards, breathing harshly, not attacking in return yet as she takes the chance to try to gulp in air.]
He's...my father! And he's...the most...amazing person...you'll ever see!
[She scowls at him, but there's a hint of desperation there. If Grima isn't her father...it means her father is dead.
And that simply can't be.]