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These things are getting complicated. Any other ideas floating around? Or a theme even?
She knew she couldn't win. She'd taken some fencing at finishing school, but she was no warrior. She knew she was going to die. At least she'd die well, with honour and poise, as befit one of her station. As she wound the spring on her auto-shield, she looked to the centre of the courtyard, where the seconds were drawing a large circle in chalk.
Where the tall angel stood. Seven feet tall with wings as white as snow, Shestaeriel was a warrior, ageless and perfect. A veteran of the Changeling Wars, a paragon of the nano-fortified engineered race of Seraphim, created by the New Church during the Chaos.
Eva hadn't meant for this to happen. Her treatise on the moral ambiguity of the military policies of the New Church had been careful and well-researched; her fellow academics had lauded the work as brilliant and insightful. Shestaeriel didn't see it that way, though. The angel had no background in post-neo-structuralist theology or nano-gametic essentialist theory. When the warrior had turned up at the presentation demanding an explanation, Eva's attempts to clarify went... poorly. Shestaeriel took offense, and challenged Eva to a duel.
Eva tightened the buckles on her smartfibre bodice, lowered her goggles and took the lit plasma blade from her second. The old academic shook his head and whispered "I don't know how we came to this. Gods be with you, girl."
A character is resigned throughout most of the story. During the story, a character misunderstands someone. The story must have an angel in it. The story takes place a century into the future. During the story, there is a fight to the death.
She knew she couldn't win. She'd taken some fencing at finishing school, but she was no warrior. She knew she was going to die. At least she'd die well, with honour and poise, as befit one of her station. As she wound the spring on her auto-shield, she looked to the centre of the courtyard, where the seconds were drawing a large circle in chalk.
Where the tall angel stood. Seven feet tall with wings as white as snow, Shestaeriel was a warrior, ageless and perfect. A veteran of the Changeling Wars, a paragon of the nano-fortified engineered race of Seraphim, created by the New Church during the Chaos.
Eva hadn't meant for this to happen. Her treatise on the moral ambiguity of the military policies of the New Church had been careful and well-researched; her fellow academics had lauded the work as brilliant and insightful. Shestaeriel didn't see it that way, though. The angel had no background in post-neo-structuralist theology or nano-gametic essentialist theory. When the warrior had turned up at the presentation demanding an explanation, Eva's attempts to clarify went... poorly. Shestaeriel took offense, and challenged Eva to a duel.
Eva tightened the buckles on her smartfibre bodice, lowered her goggles and took the lit plasma blade from her second. The old academic shook his head and whispered "I don't know how we came to this. Gods be with you, girl."