Post by Rachy on Apr 4, 2010 19:32:59 GMT 10
Title: Somewhere Away From War, II
Rating: PG
Length: 1511 words
Competitor: Briar
Summary: Part 2. Kel and Briar's acquaintance deepens.
Notes: I'm going to try extremely hard to finish this by tomorrow...
She feels breathless, helped by the fact that they have just finished quite a long sparring match for someone who insists they are just a beginner, watching him work. They are in a mirrored practice room, two days after their first spar, and he uses the glaive like he would a staff, like the Trader’s staff he’s been taught with. She leans against the wall, drinking slowly from her waterskin, as the glaive twirls around his hands, blocking, striking, slicing and spinning in a way that is so different from the way she’s been taught, even different to how the most experienced staff fighters fight here. She slips quickly out of the room, knowing he won’t notice she’s gone, by the avid concentration, tense in his face, and grabs a pair of staffs from the weapons room. She walks back to see him drinking, and she tosses a staff in his direction. He grabs it with a hand, with reflexes faster then she would have thought him to have, and caps his drink.
“Figured I could teach you some tricks?” He grins, laughing, and it widens as her eyes narrow.
“I’m perfectly capable of teaching you some too.”
“You any good at hand to hand fighting?”
“I’m a knight. We’re supposed to be a master of any weapon we have access to. I’m not a Shang, by any means, but I could hold my own.”
“A Shang?”
“You haven’t met her yet? There’s one in Court at the moment. Lori Fletcher. The Wolf.” She smiles, and he looks more confused. “Oh. The Shang are masters at hand to hand combat. They can win a fight against a swordsman without using a single weapon but their body. They’re trained since childhood, and go through the ranks. The absolute best receive the names of immortals – the most famous was the Dragon, and he died just over twenty years ago. But that’s a long story. Basically, they’re infallible.”
“Infallible. Maybe I should test how good I am against her then.” He grins, and it is far more bitter then sweet. It hints that he is built upon secrets, and that maybe, he has as much pain in his life as she does at the moment. His smile grows friendlier, and he lifts up a staff. “But I’ll give you a shot first.”
She picks the other one up and eyes him warily. They circle, testing, and there is a wicked sparkle in Briar’s eyes, that he enjoys this, and she hides her mask further.
“20 hits?”
“I think you think that’ll mean you get to spend more time with me.” He grins, and she grins back. She notices how his fingers shift slightly on the staff, in a different position to how she holds her own, and remembers how often the lesson of attacking first was drilled into her. She feints for his legs, and whacks at his shoulder, and the clack of wood echoes her response. A small smile plays about his mouth, and his fingers shift and grip tighter on the wood. A shift in the muscles accentuated by his shirt blocks a blow to her midriff, and she hits another closer to his head. The sounds of breathing, soft slippers sliding on the wooden floor and the creaking of his bare feet, and the heavy clack of wood are the only sounds in the room. She uses her staff in the most basic of movements, swinging wildly with the barest intent, and then finds herself with a gap, and takes it, slapping the side of his knee. She steps back.
“1.” He grins in reply.
She detects a pattern to his movements now, and yet it’s not something she can easily unpick. She pulls out movements her body only half remembers and he still keeps up, a mask of concentration covering both of their faces. Her mind loses track in the blur of hits and misses and the echoing strike and block, and two bells have passed by the time he throws the staff to the floor and she slams her staff into his hand. She drops it instantly as he swears, sweat dripping across his face, and takes his hand in hers. He winces, wiping sweat off his forehead as she brushes a finger over the red mark, noticing how the vines on his hand have grown into navy and black swirls. She winces.
“Sorry.” She says sheepishly.
“It’s ‘kay. I probably should have warned you before I dropped it.” A grin flashes across his face.
“Nothing’s broken?”
“Just heavily bruised. I’ve ... had worse.” She can see it again in the darkening of his eyes that he has a heavy burden of secrets, and she feels odd, because she sympathises with him and yet cannot share her own burden.
“Would you mind terribly if you escorted me to my rooms? I’m bound to get lost.”
She grins, and he knows that with any other girl, they would have taken it as an open invitation. Keladry doesn’t, although a soft blush gathers across her cheeks, and she drops his hand. She hands him the waterskin and grabs the staffs, taking them back and leading them diplomatically through the halls. The smell of incense makes him stiffen, and Keladry appears to notice, slowing down and walking to his pace. She seems out of balance here, nodding her head politely to the Yamani servants, distracted and very ill at ease.
“You don’t seem at home here.” His question startles her, and she snaps out of her thoughts.
“I used to be,” She says quietly, without appearing to realise she said it. “I spent six years here as a child. I’ve seen so much since then, that all of the Yamani that was built into me has been changed by that, and so I look around here with different eyes. My home is a fort occupied by commoners, not soldiers, some of the bravest people I know, and yet if I had returned there I would still not feel at home. I’m out of place.”
“I know how you feel. For me, home is a temple community, and I live with a sister in a house in the city. Winding Circle’s my home, Summersea is, and I had some bad experiences before I came here, too. My sisters helped me through it, but they all had their own things to deal with. They tried, but I just needed to get away. My teacher had had friends that had visied here, and they said that it had the most array of miniature gardens anywhere aside from Yanjing.”
“Your sisters sound wonderful.” She smiles, and leans against the wall as he opens his door.
“Would you like a drink?” He asks, looking across at her. There’s only a short difference in their heights, even though she’s taller then most of the women he knows, and he wants her to see the actual sincerity in his eyes.
“I’d love one.” He opens the door and steps against it, and she brushes gently against him as she walks through, a small smile on her face.
“Do you need any bruise balm, or anything?” She asks, concern clear in her eyes. He’s hardly noticed the pain, talking with her, and yet when she mentions it, it throbs.
“One of the benefits of being a plant mage.” He smiles, and digs through his mage kit. He smooths some over his hand, watching as she examines his room, stopping at his shakkan. She runs a hand across the trunk, watching as the branches curl towards her and the sun. She smiles.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s actually almost a funny story of how I got it.” He pours them a glass of cider, and motions her to sit. “ I’d only just arrived in Winding Circle.....”
He watches her face as he tells his tale, her giggle when he tells her of Crane chasing him, and outright laughter at his description of Sandry at the gate. He tells her more of his sisters, painting a vivid picture of his family, as she tells him about her own, and about her friends and escapades in the King’s Own. He feels more comfortable with her then he has since he left Emelan, leaving Sandry and Daja at the docks, then he has with anyone else but the girls and their family for a very long time. He doesn’t know it, but she feels more at peace then she has since the Chamber released her after her Ordeal. They stop talking only when the lamps in the walls begin to glow, and she remembers she has dinner with Yuki’s family. He waits to close the door, and she smiles.
“I had a great time today.” He says quietly. She nods.
“Will you be at the ball tomorrow night?” She asks, her voice just as soft.
“It would be my honour to escort you, if you wish.” A smile spreads across his face, cheekily, and she grins in return.
“I would like that very much, Briar.”
Rating: PG
Length: 1511 words
Competitor: Briar
Summary: Part 2. Kel and Briar's acquaintance deepens.
Notes: I'm going to try extremely hard to finish this by tomorrow...
She feels breathless, helped by the fact that they have just finished quite a long sparring match for someone who insists they are just a beginner, watching him work. They are in a mirrored practice room, two days after their first spar, and he uses the glaive like he would a staff, like the Trader’s staff he’s been taught with. She leans against the wall, drinking slowly from her waterskin, as the glaive twirls around his hands, blocking, striking, slicing and spinning in a way that is so different from the way she’s been taught, even different to how the most experienced staff fighters fight here. She slips quickly out of the room, knowing he won’t notice she’s gone, by the avid concentration, tense in his face, and grabs a pair of staffs from the weapons room. She walks back to see him drinking, and she tosses a staff in his direction. He grabs it with a hand, with reflexes faster then she would have thought him to have, and caps his drink.
“Figured I could teach you some tricks?” He grins, laughing, and it widens as her eyes narrow.
“I’m perfectly capable of teaching you some too.”
“You any good at hand to hand fighting?”
“I’m a knight. We’re supposed to be a master of any weapon we have access to. I’m not a Shang, by any means, but I could hold my own.”
“A Shang?”
“You haven’t met her yet? There’s one in Court at the moment. Lori Fletcher. The Wolf.” She smiles, and he looks more confused. “Oh. The Shang are masters at hand to hand combat. They can win a fight against a swordsman without using a single weapon but their body. They’re trained since childhood, and go through the ranks. The absolute best receive the names of immortals – the most famous was the Dragon, and he died just over twenty years ago. But that’s a long story. Basically, they’re infallible.”
“Infallible. Maybe I should test how good I am against her then.” He grins, and it is far more bitter then sweet. It hints that he is built upon secrets, and that maybe, he has as much pain in his life as she does at the moment. His smile grows friendlier, and he lifts up a staff. “But I’ll give you a shot first.”
She picks the other one up and eyes him warily. They circle, testing, and there is a wicked sparkle in Briar’s eyes, that he enjoys this, and she hides her mask further.
“20 hits?”
“I think you think that’ll mean you get to spend more time with me.” He grins, and she grins back. She notices how his fingers shift slightly on the staff, in a different position to how she holds her own, and remembers how often the lesson of attacking first was drilled into her. She feints for his legs, and whacks at his shoulder, and the clack of wood echoes her response. A small smile plays about his mouth, and his fingers shift and grip tighter on the wood. A shift in the muscles accentuated by his shirt blocks a blow to her midriff, and she hits another closer to his head. The sounds of breathing, soft slippers sliding on the wooden floor and the creaking of his bare feet, and the heavy clack of wood are the only sounds in the room. She uses her staff in the most basic of movements, swinging wildly with the barest intent, and then finds herself with a gap, and takes it, slapping the side of his knee. She steps back.
“1.” He grins in reply.
She detects a pattern to his movements now, and yet it’s not something she can easily unpick. She pulls out movements her body only half remembers and he still keeps up, a mask of concentration covering both of their faces. Her mind loses track in the blur of hits and misses and the echoing strike and block, and two bells have passed by the time he throws the staff to the floor and she slams her staff into his hand. She drops it instantly as he swears, sweat dripping across his face, and takes his hand in hers. He winces, wiping sweat off his forehead as she brushes a finger over the red mark, noticing how the vines on his hand have grown into navy and black swirls. She winces.
“Sorry.” She says sheepishly.
“It’s ‘kay. I probably should have warned you before I dropped it.” A grin flashes across his face.
“Nothing’s broken?”
“Just heavily bruised. I’ve ... had worse.” She can see it again in the darkening of his eyes that he has a heavy burden of secrets, and she feels odd, because she sympathises with him and yet cannot share her own burden.
“Would you mind terribly if you escorted me to my rooms? I’m bound to get lost.”
She grins, and he knows that with any other girl, they would have taken it as an open invitation. Keladry doesn’t, although a soft blush gathers across her cheeks, and she drops his hand. She hands him the waterskin and grabs the staffs, taking them back and leading them diplomatically through the halls. The smell of incense makes him stiffen, and Keladry appears to notice, slowing down and walking to his pace. She seems out of balance here, nodding her head politely to the Yamani servants, distracted and very ill at ease.
“You don’t seem at home here.” His question startles her, and she snaps out of her thoughts.
“I used to be,” She says quietly, without appearing to realise she said it. “I spent six years here as a child. I’ve seen so much since then, that all of the Yamani that was built into me has been changed by that, and so I look around here with different eyes. My home is a fort occupied by commoners, not soldiers, some of the bravest people I know, and yet if I had returned there I would still not feel at home. I’m out of place.”
“I know how you feel. For me, home is a temple community, and I live with a sister in a house in the city. Winding Circle’s my home, Summersea is, and I had some bad experiences before I came here, too. My sisters helped me through it, but they all had their own things to deal with. They tried, but I just needed to get away. My teacher had had friends that had visied here, and they said that it had the most array of miniature gardens anywhere aside from Yanjing.”
“Your sisters sound wonderful.” She smiles, and leans against the wall as he opens his door.
“Would you like a drink?” He asks, looking across at her. There’s only a short difference in their heights, even though she’s taller then most of the women he knows, and he wants her to see the actual sincerity in his eyes.
“I’d love one.” He opens the door and steps against it, and she brushes gently against him as she walks through, a small smile on her face.
“Do you need any bruise balm, or anything?” She asks, concern clear in her eyes. He’s hardly noticed the pain, talking with her, and yet when she mentions it, it throbs.
“One of the benefits of being a plant mage.” He smiles, and digs through his mage kit. He smooths some over his hand, watching as she examines his room, stopping at his shakkan. She runs a hand across the trunk, watching as the branches curl towards her and the sun. She smiles.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s actually almost a funny story of how I got it.” He pours them a glass of cider, and motions her to sit. “ I’d only just arrived in Winding Circle.....”
He watches her face as he tells his tale, her giggle when he tells her of Crane chasing him, and outright laughter at his description of Sandry at the gate. He tells her more of his sisters, painting a vivid picture of his family, as she tells him about her own, and about her friends and escapades in the King’s Own. He feels more comfortable with her then he has since he left Emelan, leaving Sandry and Daja at the docks, then he has with anyone else but the girls and their family for a very long time. He doesn’t know it, but she feels more at peace then she has since the Chamber released her after her Ordeal. They stop talking only when the lamps in the walls begin to glow, and she remembers she has dinner with Yuki’s family. He waits to close the door, and she smiles.
“I had a great time today.” He says quietly. She nods.
“Will you be at the ball tomorrow night?” She asks, her voice just as soft.
“It would be my honour to escort you, if you wish.” A smile spreads across his face, cheekily, and she grins in return.
“I would like that very much, Briar.”