A Steady Grip

A pulse stirred through my fingers. My right wrist, suspended stiffly in the air, rotated slightly under my own command. The hilt balanced cleanly in my palm, light yet solid. Lowering my guard by a measured fraction, I scanned the space and spotted the tall blister box standing behind me, displaying my twin sealed beneath smooth plastic. I took half a step back and touched the tip of my left blade against the transparent casing. A crisp, faint tap resonated. I was standing freely on my own feet, alert and unbound.