Post by Shhasow on Nov 11, 2010 11:34:44 GMT 10
Woman Who Battles
Summary: In PAGE, Zahir no longer fights with Kel. This is why.
[G] - General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 750
Most of this was written in a 15 minute sprint, then completed and polished up.
____________
They generally saw each other in the stables that summer, Zahir saddling up his mount as Kel rubbed down Peachblossom.
If he sneered at her if they happened to pass, Kel ignored it. He was one of Joren’s cronies; his feelings about her weren’t exactly unknown. She even gave him the courtesy of keeping Peachblossom on a tight rein so he wouldn’t bite, though if he occasionally blew green mucous in the Bazhir’s direction, she certainly wasn’t going to berate her horse.
Kel arrived in the practice yards every day to ride and practice jousting. She was determined to master the cursed thing even if it killed her. It was becoming easier, largely due to her increasing muscles, but she forced herself to practice the unwieldy weapon.
One afternoon as she led Peachblossom into the stables, Zahir stood in her way, a frown etched across his brown, severe face.
“You are here every day,” he demanded.
Kel looked at him with a level expression, face blank. “Yes I am.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” she asked, exasperated.
“Why are you still here?”
“Lord Wyldon never sent me home,” she said. “Can I go now?”
Zahir didn’t budge. “You are a girl.”
“Well spotted.”
“All girls must take the veil.”
Kel scowled. “In Yamani culture, all men must write poetry about the moon and paper lanterns. You’re not Yamani, I’m not a Bazhir. Let me though, or Peachblossom will bite you.”
Zahir shouldered past with a sneer, though he took care to stay on the opposite side of his mount.
The next day, he met her as she was wiping down her horse’s coat.
“If you were Bazhir, your father would beat you,” he announced.
“Probably.”
He looked askance at Kel. “You are a girl, yet you fight with weapons.”
“I believe we’ve been over this. Look, didn’t the Lioness get adopted by a Bazhir clan? Obviously it happens, women fight.”
“That was the Bloody Hawk clan, not the Spotted Jackal,” he said stiffly.
“Ah, Bazhir progressives, wonderful,” Kel muttered.
He studied her for a minute. Kel attempted not to shift under his scrutiny. He looked as if he were either trying to solve a complicated puzzle or attempting to pass a kidney stone.
“I want to test you, girl who fights.”
“That’s great, Zahir, I love tests,” she rolled her eyes slightly. “That’s why I am here, apparently.”
“I shall get you a staff.”
As he walked away, Kel loosened her arms.
Just what she needed every day, a humorless Bazhir to boss her around. Just when she was missing Joren, too.
That day, they sparred with staves. Kel won by virtue of her previous Yamani experience, though it was a tough match. Zahir certainly meant to test her, if the strength behind his blows and blocks were an indication, though she eventually managed to disarm him with a complicated two-handed maneuver.
He had frowned in his way and demanded, “Show me.”
The next day, they fought with swords. Zahir won, not unexpectedly, as Kel had only one year of scant experience, though she did manage to block most of his attacks and launch a few of her own. To her surprise, he showed her a few tricks with a blade that she quickly committed to memory.
The day after that, they fought in hand-to-hand combat. Although the boy outweighed her and had a longer reach due to his height, Kel managed to flip him several times, though he always recovered quickly. Wrestling was not his strongest area; his size worked against him when against someone who knew how to use it against him.
Without being asked, Kel showed him what she had done in detail, moving slow at first, then faster.
They ended with Zahir in a stranglehold, Kel above him, their faces close together as she explained the leverage behind the move.
His black eyes darted from hers down to her lips.
Kel’s mouth went dry and she immediately ceased, body still.
Zahir gave her a shove and she went flying to the side, scrambling back to her feet with a dull blush.
He looked everywhere but her, finally settling his gaze over her shoulder.
“You are a woman. You fight with weapons.”
Kel nodded dumbly.
Zahir glanced at her. “You shall not don the veil, woman-who-battles. You deserve to stay.”
Flabbergasted, Kel made no move as he nodded to her, turned on his heel, and walked into the stables.
She didn’t see him again until page training officially started.
Summary: In PAGE, Zahir no longer fights with Kel. This is why.
[G] - General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 750
Most of this was written in a 15 minute sprint, then completed and polished up.
____________
They generally saw each other in the stables that summer, Zahir saddling up his mount as Kel rubbed down Peachblossom.
If he sneered at her if they happened to pass, Kel ignored it. He was one of Joren’s cronies; his feelings about her weren’t exactly unknown. She even gave him the courtesy of keeping Peachblossom on a tight rein so he wouldn’t bite, though if he occasionally blew green mucous in the Bazhir’s direction, she certainly wasn’t going to berate her horse.
Kel arrived in the practice yards every day to ride and practice jousting. She was determined to master the cursed thing even if it killed her. It was becoming easier, largely due to her increasing muscles, but she forced herself to practice the unwieldy weapon.
One afternoon as she led Peachblossom into the stables, Zahir stood in her way, a frown etched across his brown, severe face.
“You are here every day,” he demanded.
Kel looked at him with a level expression, face blank. “Yes I am.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” she asked, exasperated.
“Why are you still here?”
“Lord Wyldon never sent me home,” she said. “Can I go now?”
Zahir didn’t budge. “You are a girl.”
“Well spotted.”
“All girls must take the veil.”
Kel scowled. “In Yamani culture, all men must write poetry about the moon and paper lanterns. You’re not Yamani, I’m not a Bazhir. Let me though, or Peachblossom will bite you.”
Zahir shouldered past with a sneer, though he took care to stay on the opposite side of his mount.
The next day, he met her as she was wiping down her horse’s coat.
“If you were Bazhir, your father would beat you,” he announced.
“Probably.”
He looked askance at Kel. “You are a girl, yet you fight with weapons.”
“I believe we’ve been over this. Look, didn’t the Lioness get adopted by a Bazhir clan? Obviously it happens, women fight.”
“That was the Bloody Hawk clan, not the Spotted Jackal,” he said stiffly.
“Ah, Bazhir progressives, wonderful,” Kel muttered.
He studied her for a minute. Kel attempted not to shift under his scrutiny. He looked as if he were either trying to solve a complicated puzzle or attempting to pass a kidney stone.
“I want to test you, girl who fights.”
“That’s great, Zahir, I love tests,” she rolled her eyes slightly. “That’s why I am here, apparently.”
“I shall get you a staff.”
As he walked away, Kel loosened her arms.
Just what she needed every day, a humorless Bazhir to boss her around. Just when she was missing Joren, too.
That day, they sparred with staves. Kel won by virtue of her previous Yamani experience, though it was a tough match. Zahir certainly meant to test her, if the strength behind his blows and blocks were an indication, though she eventually managed to disarm him with a complicated two-handed maneuver.
He had frowned in his way and demanded, “Show me.”
The next day, they fought with swords. Zahir won, not unexpectedly, as Kel had only one year of scant experience, though she did manage to block most of his attacks and launch a few of her own. To her surprise, he showed her a few tricks with a blade that she quickly committed to memory.
The day after that, they fought in hand-to-hand combat. Although the boy outweighed her and had a longer reach due to his height, Kel managed to flip him several times, though he always recovered quickly. Wrestling was not his strongest area; his size worked against him when against someone who knew how to use it against him.
Without being asked, Kel showed him what she had done in detail, moving slow at first, then faster.
They ended with Zahir in a stranglehold, Kel above him, their faces close together as she explained the leverage behind the move.
His black eyes darted from hers down to her lips.
Kel’s mouth went dry and she immediately ceased, body still.
Zahir gave her a shove and she went flying to the side, scrambling back to her feet with a dull blush.
He looked everywhere but her, finally settling his gaze over her shoulder.
“You are a woman. You fight with weapons.”
Kel nodded dumbly.
Zahir glanced at her. “You shall not don the veil, woman-who-battles. You deserve to stay.”
Flabbergasted, Kel made no move as he nodded to her, turned on his heel, and walked into the stables.
She didn’t see him again until page training officially started.