Post by Lisa on Mar 31, 2010 8:13:37 GMT 10
Title: Jealousy, XIII
Rating: PG
Length: 353 words
Competitor: Owen
Round/Fight: Final
Summary: Opposites attract, Owen realizes. And the opposite of a lady knight is a royal princess.
Owen found that being a knight didn’t make Midwinter parties any easier. He would’ve rather been engaged in a fight, able to smack around whatever problem was pestering him. Instead he was wearing a formal tunic and itchy hose, trying to work up the nerve to ask a lady to dance. None of the ladies present seemed to glance more than once at him, and that glance wasn’t always favorable. It was hard to request a dance from a woman when her expression made her refusal certain.
He’d wanted to ask Kel, but she disappeared halfway through the evening. She’d probably run off to one of the private rooms, where some of the other less social knights met in smaller groups. After watching ladies for another twenty minutes, he gave up on the notion of dancing with anyone and made his way to a small book room off the ballroom.
It wasn’t filled with anti-social knights, he discovered, but with one very social knight. And a princess.
Kel was talking with Princess Vania, their heads close together as they whispered. They didn’t notice Owen in the doorway, but in one swift moment he took in everything in their body language, from Kel’s soft expression and inviting posture to Vania’s flirtatious smile. She rested her perfectly manicured hand over Kel’s, her darker, smooth skin drawing attention by comparison to the scars that marred Kel’s visible fingers.
They were a contract in opposites: one was perfection, the other was struggle exemplified. And in this juxtaposition, Owen recognized that there was no place for him in that world. Kel was the perfect warrior, the perfect knight. Princess Vania, he had heard, was a young girl who fought for a foothold in her father’s court, bewitching men and women alike.
And when Vania leaned forward and kissed Kel teasingly, whispering that it was for Midwinter luck, Owen turned away altogether, walking back to the ballroom. He felt that old familiar surge of resentment, but it was followed by something else – resignation. He’d never have her, so what was the point of letting his heart hurt so much?
Rating: PG
Length: 353 words
Competitor: Owen
Round/Fight: Final
Summary: Opposites attract, Owen realizes. And the opposite of a lady knight is a royal princess.
Owen found that being a knight didn’t make Midwinter parties any easier. He would’ve rather been engaged in a fight, able to smack around whatever problem was pestering him. Instead he was wearing a formal tunic and itchy hose, trying to work up the nerve to ask a lady to dance. None of the ladies present seemed to glance more than once at him, and that glance wasn’t always favorable. It was hard to request a dance from a woman when her expression made her refusal certain.
He’d wanted to ask Kel, but she disappeared halfway through the evening. She’d probably run off to one of the private rooms, where some of the other less social knights met in smaller groups. After watching ladies for another twenty minutes, he gave up on the notion of dancing with anyone and made his way to a small book room off the ballroom.
It wasn’t filled with anti-social knights, he discovered, but with one very social knight. And a princess.
Kel was talking with Princess Vania, their heads close together as they whispered. They didn’t notice Owen in the doorway, but in one swift moment he took in everything in their body language, from Kel’s soft expression and inviting posture to Vania’s flirtatious smile. She rested her perfectly manicured hand over Kel’s, her darker, smooth skin drawing attention by comparison to the scars that marred Kel’s visible fingers.
They were a contract in opposites: one was perfection, the other was struggle exemplified. And in this juxtaposition, Owen recognized that there was no place for him in that world. Kel was the perfect warrior, the perfect knight. Princess Vania, he had heard, was a young girl who fought for a foothold in her father’s court, bewitching men and women alike.
And when Vania leaned forward and kissed Kel teasingly, whispering that it was for Midwinter luck, Owen turned away altogether, walking back to the ballroom. He felt that old familiar surge of resentment, but it was followed by something else – resignation. He’d never have her, so what was the point of letting his heart hurt so much?