Written in response to the Inktober prompt #7: Fan.
~Her Fan, Her Weapon~
Her fan is her weapon.
Among the flowing gowns and bright chandeliers, the purple and silver leaf hides her sharp smile, helping her blend in with the socialites around her.
In the shadows, the honed iron ribs slices as cleanly as any knife. In the restrictive dress favoured by the ladies of the land, it’s hard to fight, so she makes sure every strike counts.
Many have asked to touch her fan, a faux pass in her culture. All are rejected. They think that the fan is just a quaint decoration. She’ll keep it that way as long as she can.