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Summary
The little house, already half wrecked from the flood, is in even worse shape from their fight. She blocks a left-handed strike and tosses him towards the furthest wall. He crashes onto the bed with enough force that it makes the entire bed frame skid across the floor by a few feet.
She prowls to the bed, quickly, before he can get back up and land another blow. She puts her hand on the center of his torso and keeps him pinned down. “I did not come here to fight.” He repeats. She ignores him. There’s a bruise on his right cheek, blossoming and deepening quickly. Like an African Violet, Shuri thinks sourly. He even bruises prettily.
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eight days after the attack on wakanda