ooc: before the hurricane 
It was not uncommon to see the pale leader twisting in the air as a blur, the only glimpse of light a gleam of her dagger before she plunged its tip into an invisible foe. Her training on her lonesome was almost like dancing - complicated twists and moved and tricks up her sleeve, constantly refining her movements, day by day, hour by hour. She never ceased until she could not go on any longer, with her tongue lolling out and her legs burning with fighting fire.
Today was one such day. Her swift knife slashed through the air, its blade as deadly as any sword or bow. Its size was her advantage - one would look at her petite form and her small blade and underestimate her, thinking her a weak female with no strength in her mind or in her body. If Skye fought like the ones in Casa di Cavalieri, with honor and honesty and respect, then perhaps she would be offended by the assumptions. But she did not mind others underestimating her, not at all, not when in a brawl - this small judgement would seep into their mind, giving her sly and tricky fighting style a biting edge.
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