Post by wordy on Nov 2, 2010 11:17:52 GMT 10
Title: Clean and Quick
Rating: PG
Prompt: Acquired Taste #37
Summary: Only later will Gary discover that the pen is mightier than the sword.
The first time Gary touched a sword, he had slipped, unnoticed, into his father's chambers. He had struggled with the sheath for a moment, before the blade had come free, silver and clean, his own brown eyes staring back at him from the reflective metal. It was too heavy (and too clean, he thought).
His father was an excellent swordsman. Sometimes Gary watched him sparring, but all he could think of was that silver blade and how it was made to pierce through skin. He couldn't quite match up that mental image with his father.
Years later, when he entered page training, Gary still hadn't quite connected those two images, or wrapped his head around the fact that he was supposed to enjoy trying to skewer another man. Despite what his fencing tutor had taught him - father was too busy to teach him - Gary still couldn't make himself understand.
He wasn't sure when it happened, or how, but eventually it did. Whacking at each other with sticks was a useless exercise, he thought, and after a while he began to anticipate the time of day when they would change courts and pick up their practise swords. Gary hefted his in his hand, examining the way it fit perfectly in his grip, not too heavy and not too light. It started to feel like an extension of him.
Gary knew he was big for his age. Well, not big exactly, but his shoulders made it seem that way. There was something exhilerating about facing an opponent and being able to overpower them, the jarring ring of metal goading him on. When Gary stood there, afterwards, the grip on his sword slipping due to the sweat on his palm, he felt happy. He was starting to understand, might even understand the appeal in seeing his blade sinking into another man's flesh.
He decided, then, that he was going to be a great swordsman. Like his father.
There was nothing he would rather be.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Acquired Taste #37
Summary: Only later will Gary discover that the pen is mightier than the sword.
The first time Gary touched a sword, he had slipped, unnoticed, into his father's chambers. He had struggled with the sheath for a moment, before the blade had come free, silver and clean, his own brown eyes staring back at him from the reflective metal. It was too heavy (and too clean, he thought).
His father was an excellent swordsman. Sometimes Gary watched him sparring, but all he could think of was that silver blade and how it was made to pierce through skin. He couldn't quite match up that mental image with his father.
Years later, when he entered page training, Gary still hadn't quite connected those two images, or wrapped his head around the fact that he was supposed to enjoy trying to skewer another man. Despite what his fencing tutor had taught him - father was too busy to teach him - Gary still couldn't make himself understand.
He wasn't sure when it happened, or how, but eventually it did. Whacking at each other with sticks was a useless exercise, he thought, and after a while he began to anticipate the time of day when they would change courts and pick up their practise swords. Gary hefted his in his hand, examining the way it fit perfectly in his grip, not too heavy and not too light. It started to feel like an extension of him.
Gary knew he was big for his age. Well, not big exactly, but his shoulders made it seem that way. There was something exhilerating about facing an opponent and being able to overpower them, the jarring ring of metal goading him on. When Gary stood there, afterwards, the grip on his sword slipping due to the sweat on his palm, he felt happy. He was starting to understand, might even understand the appeal in seeing his blade sinking into another man's flesh.
He decided, then, that he was going to be a great swordsman. Like his father.
There was nothing he would rather be.