Post by wordy on Mar 6, 2010 19:49:42 GMT 10
Title: Aftermath
Rating: PG
Length: 296
Competitor: Faleron
Round/Fight: 2A
Summary: Faleron loses his nerve.
It was late autumn when he saw her again.
It was only a passing glance in the courtyard, but he recognised her easily. The years had written themselves across her face: the deep lines etched at the corners of her mouth, the fine wrinkles framing her dreamer's eyes, and the strong line of her chin when she clenched her jaw and pressed her lips together. In the disappearing light of dusk, he could just make out the subtle shade of grey in her hair.
She refused retirement, he had overheard one man say. Ever since the incident in the war, she's been working night and day.
Faleron had heard about it. He had heard how King Maggur had found a new advisor, a man more deadly, more dangerous than The Nothing Man, if you could believe such a thing.
It had been two days before Kel heard the news. Her family - her husband and two children - had been slaughtered in their beds, the stained pools of blood strewn across the floors and bedsheets by the dozens of heartless mercenaries. Or so he had heard.
He watched her walk through the courtyard, head held high, face grim, and withdrew the words he had been about to speak. A small, selfish, yearning part of him had wondered if they could reclaim what they had had, once, in their youth. But after seeing her, Faleron knew. He could not ask it of her. If only because of the selfish reason that he did not want to hear her answer - be it affirmative or a denial - and have to be either her crutch or her useless salvation.
For the first time in his life, Faleron turned away. The Code taught nothing of this kind of bravery.
Rating: PG
Length: 296
Competitor: Faleron
Round/Fight: 2A
Summary: Faleron loses his nerve.
It was late autumn when he saw her again.
It was only a passing glance in the courtyard, but he recognised her easily. The years had written themselves across her face: the deep lines etched at the corners of her mouth, the fine wrinkles framing her dreamer's eyes, and the strong line of her chin when she clenched her jaw and pressed her lips together. In the disappearing light of dusk, he could just make out the subtle shade of grey in her hair.
She refused retirement, he had overheard one man say. Ever since the incident in the war, she's been working night and day.
Faleron had heard about it. He had heard how King Maggur had found a new advisor, a man more deadly, more dangerous than The Nothing Man, if you could believe such a thing.
It had been two days before Kel heard the news. Her family - her husband and two children - had been slaughtered in their beds, the stained pools of blood strewn across the floors and bedsheets by the dozens of heartless mercenaries. Or so he had heard.
He watched her walk through the courtyard, head held high, face grim, and withdrew the words he had been about to speak. A small, selfish, yearning part of him had wondered if they could reclaim what they had had, once, in their youth. But after seeing her, Faleron knew. He could not ask it of her. If only because of the selfish reason that he did not want to hear her answer - be it affirmative or a denial - and have to be either her crutch or her useless salvation.
For the first time in his life, Faleron turned away. The Code taught nothing of this kind of bravery.