Post by xankira on Oct 19, 2013 13:14:09 GMT 10
Title: Scent
Rating: PG
Prompt: Distraction (#25)
Summary: There’s something in the air.
Notes: Part 1 of 5. I did a thing! I was planning on writing something light-hearted and came up with this instead. Um.
--
He knows there’s something off.
He prowls around in the pre-dawn light, or tries to. He thinks it’s something in the air, sniff sniff. He moves to check but Loey grabs him. “Come on, we gotta practise!”
He wishes Peachblossom was here and he could ask. He’d know. He’s cluey like that.
“Hurry up! I promised Milady we’d watch you, me ‘n’ Gydo. Now come on!”
He goes through his forms – middle hold, straight line – while keeping an eye out for the others – watch your footing, Loey. He watches the sparrows zip around the group, narrowly avoiding spears and Meech’s hands. One lands on Meech’s doll, a strand of red yarn in its beak.
Sniff, sniff.
He looks around Haven; workers scrubbing pots, taking out the honey wagon, patrols on the walls. Hens peck in their pens, breakfast in preparation. All normal, but something’s still off. His nostrils twitch, face turned in the air. There’s something… odd, about that scent. It’s grass, and cold, and spring, and something else. Familiar, but not.
He half-wishes Lady was here. At least he would have something extra to do – practise more forms, pass her things while she taught. She’d settle him down. Loey tries, but Lady’s dependable. She never goes back on her promises. Right? Right.
Sniff, sniff.
He goes up on the wall. The sun’s fully over the east horizon now. Sergeant Yngvar’s on watch. Lady would tell him Oluf’s next. He looks at that horizon and frowns, nose tilted in the air. He blows air out of his lungs. He looks down when a hand lands on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about milady, she’s fine. She’ll be back, you’ll see.”
Of course she’s fine, she’s got Peachblossom. He can beat off anyone. But that’s not the problem. Well, maybe it’s a little bit of the problem, but it’s not the whole thing!
Sergeant Yngvar walks off. He goes down to breakfast. Gulps down his food because he still remembers being hungry. Looks around at Loey, Gydo – they remember being hungry too. Meech tries to spoon-feed his doll, getting porridge in that red yarn hair. He figures that doll shouldn’t go hungry either. Gydo reaches over to stick the globs in Meech’s mouth.
Sniff, sniff.
He gives up. He goes to the stables, to flesh he knows better than his own self. He learned long ago not to trust his eyes, that what looks like kindness definitely isn’t. Lady’s helped him with that, but there’s something that tells him to think back to the dark time.
He knows there’s something wrong.
-that’s horsesense, boy. it’s in the air…
That came from an older mare, further back in the stables. He hasn’t had a proper conversation with her yet. He walks to her stall.
-hello, horsehearted. you can smell it, yes? something wrong in the air.
It’s in his bones now. That scent is getting stronger. It reminds him of the time Alvik split his lip, blood coating his teeth. A breeze trails through the open stable-door. Nostrils flare as the horses get restless. His nose flares too.
-something wrong, something bad.
-we know it, but not in this way.
The horses fidget. A cat, hiding in the lofts, jumps down with fur on end. The dogs outside are growling. All have their noses to the wind.
-it’s close…
Sparrows, some from Lady’s original flock, fly in from the stable doors, shrieking. Outside, the caws of ravens, bluejays, the extended flock fill the air over men’s shouts and the warning horn. Tobe bolts outside, sprinting to Headquarters as Merric hollers orders to his men. Already there are screams of the dying.
-IT’S HERE!
Above all of that is the screech of metal over rock.
And the overpowering scent of iron.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Distraction (#25)
Summary: There’s something in the air.
Notes: Part 1 of 5. I did a thing! I was planning on writing something light-hearted and came up with this instead. Um.
--
He knows there’s something off.
He prowls around in the pre-dawn light, or tries to. He thinks it’s something in the air, sniff sniff. He moves to check but Loey grabs him. “Come on, we gotta practise!”
He wishes Peachblossom was here and he could ask. He’d know. He’s cluey like that.
“Hurry up! I promised Milady we’d watch you, me ‘n’ Gydo. Now come on!”
He goes through his forms – middle hold, straight line – while keeping an eye out for the others – watch your footing, Loey. He watches the sparrows zip around the group, narrowly avoiding spears and Meech’s hands. One lands on Meech’s doll, a strand of red yarn in its beak.
Sniff, sniff.
He looks around Haven; workers scrubbing pots, taking out the honey wagon, patrols on the walls. Hens peck in their pens, breakfast in preparation. All normal, but something’s still off. His nostrils twitch, face turned in the air. There’s something… odd, about that scent. It’s grass, and cold, and spring, and something else. Familiar, but not.
He half-wishes Lady was here. At least he would have something extra to do – practise more forms, pass her things while she taught. She’d settle him down. Loey tries, but Lady’s dependable. She never goes back on her promises. Right? Right.
Sniff, sniff.
He goes up on the wall. The sun’s fully over the east horizon now. Sergeant Yngvar’s on watch. Lady would tell him Oluf’s next. He looks at that horizon and frowns, nose tilted in the air. He blows air out of his lungs. He looks down when a hand lands on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about milady, she’s fine. She’ll be back, you’ll see.”
Of course she’s fine, she’s got Peachblossom. He can beat off anyone. But that’s not the problem. Well, maybe it’s a little bit of the problem, but it’s not the whole thing!
Sergeant Yngvar walks off. He goes down to breakfast. Gulps down his food because he still remembers being hungry. Looks around at Loey, Gydo – they remember being hungry too. Meech tries to spoon-feed his doll, getting porridge in that red yarn hair. He figures that doll shouldn’t go hungry either. Gydo reaches over to stick the globs in Meech’s mouth.
Sniff, sniff.
He gives up. He goes to the stables, to flesh he knows better than his own self. He learned long ago not to trust his eyes, that what looks like kindness definitely isn’t. Lady’s helped him with that, but there’s something that tells him to think back to the dark time.
He knows there’s something wrong.
-that’s horsesense, boy. it’s in the air…
That came from an older mare, further back in the stables. He hasn’t had a proper conversation with her yet. He walks to her stall.
-hello, horsehearted. you can smell it, yes? something wrong in the air.
It’s in his bones now. That scent is getting stronger. It reminds him of the time Alvik split his lip, blood coating his teeth. A breeze trails through the open stable-door. Nostrils flare as the horses get restless. His nose flares too.
-something wrong, something bad.
-we know it, but not in this way.
The horses fidget. A cat, hiding in the lofts, jumps down with fur on end. The dogs outside are growling. All have their noses to the wind.
-it’s close…
Sparrows, some from Lady’s original flock, fly in from the stable doors, shrieking. Outside, the caws of ravens, bluejays, the extended flock fill the air over men’s shouts and the warning horn. Tobe bolts outside, sprinting to Headquarters as Merric hollers orders to his men. Already there are screams of the dying.
-IT’S HERE!
Above all of that is the screech of metal over rock.
And the overpowering scent of iron.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!