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Weekly Contest #301
Kris Kris sat on a stone bench beneath a weeping willow tree. Its branches wrapped around him, a makeshift shield from the glaring sun. Propped up on the young man’s leg was an inky black sword with a crimson belly. There was a piercing cry as he ran a whetstone along its side repeatedly. “Would’ve never found you all the way out here if it didn’t sound like you were strangling a banshee.” Kris looked up as a silver-haired man pushed a bundle of branches to the side, a smirk already plastered onto his face. From outside the canopy, his abn...
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