Post by wordy on Aug 17, 2010 11:24:43 GMT 10
Title: The Other Training Master
Rating: PG
Minor Character: Gary!
Summary: One of young!Gary's many visits to the Lower City.
His heart is stuttering in his chest. Sinking back closer against the building, deeper into the inky shadows, he takes a moment to slow his breathing. The cold night air is sharp in his lungs; the sweat sticking the front of his shirt to his chest an uncomfortable reminder of why he is here.
For a brief moment, he thinks he's won. But then an edge of steel is kissing his throat and rough fingers are closing on the back of his neck. He hadn't even heard the other young man approach him.
"Dead," whispers George against his ear, before stepping away. His knife disappears back to wherever he had pulled it from, too quick to follow. Gary allows himself one self-pitying sigh before slumping down against the wall.
"I thought I'd had it that time," he admits after a moment.
George just looks at him, still standing, arms crossed against his broad chest. His expression is thoughtful. "Almost," he says. "But you run like a horse."
"Fast?"
"Loud. I could hear you from two streets away."
Gary sighs again, sinking his head into his hands. "What's the point."
If he was looking up, he would have seen George roll his eyes at such theatrics. "You're catchin' on," says the thief. "Quicker than Alan, even. That lad's too stubborn for his own good."
"Alan?" says Gary, ears perking up at his friend's name.
"Ah. I wasn't supposed to tell you." He doesn't look too repentent, though. "I've been teachin' him a thing or two as well."
Gary rubs his chin thoughtfully. "That explains a few things."
"Does it, now." George holds out a hand and helps Gary to his feet. "One more go for tonight. You're wearin' me out."
"I highly doubt that," says Gary dryly.
George grins. "Come on. If at first you don't succeed...you're doin' it wrong." With that, he turns and runs, sticking close to the buildings, moulding smoothly with the shadows until he disappears from sight.
Gary watches after him for a moment, before pulling himself together and forcing himself into a run, conscious of the sound his feet are making on the cobblestones with every step. One of these days, he thinks grimly, he's going to get it right.
Rating: PG
Minor Character: Gary!
Summary: One of young!Gary's many visits to the Lower City.
His heart is stuttering in his chest. Sinking back closer against the building, deeper into the inky shadows, he takes a moment to slow his breathing. The cold night air is sharp in his lungs; the sweat sticking the front of his shirt to his chest an uncomfortable reminder of why he is here.
For a brief moment, he thinks he's won. But then an edge of steel is kissing his throat and rough fingers are closing on the back of his neck. He hadn't even heard the other young man approach him.
"Dead," whispers George against his ear, before stepping away. His knife disappears back to wherever he had pulled it from, too quick to follow. Gary allows himself one self-pitying sigh before slumping down against the wall.
"I thought I'd had it that time," he admits after a moment.
George just looks at him, still standing, arms crossed against his broad chest. His expression is thoughtful. "Almost," he says. "But you run like a horse."
"Fast?"
"Loud. I could hear you from two streets away."
Gary sighs again, sinking his head into his hands. "What's the point."
If he was looking up, he would have seen George roll his eyes at such theatrics. "You're catchin' on," says the thief. "Quicker than Alan, even. That lad's too stubborn for his own good."
"Alan?" says Gary, ears perking up at his friend's name.
"Ah. I wasn't supposed to tell you." He doesn't look too repentent, though. "I've been teachin' him a thing or two as well."
Gary rubs his chin thoughtfully. "That explains a few things."
"Does it, now." George holds out a hand and helps Gary to his feet. "One more go for tonight. You're wearin' me out."
"I highly doubt that," says Gary dryly.
George grins. "Come on. If at first you don't succeed...you're doin' it wrong." With that, he turns and runs, sticking close to the buildings, moulding smoothly with the shadows until he disappears from sight.
Gary watches after him for a moment, before pulling himself together and forcing himself into a run, conscious of the sound his feet are making on the cobblestones with every step. One of these days, he thinks grimly, he's going to get it right.