Post by emberrose on Mar 7, 2010 8:53:34 GMT 10
Title: Never Speak To You
Rating: PG i believe
Length: 670, long.
Competitor: Raoul
Round/Fight: 2/A
Summary: Raoul vows that no women will die on the battlefield today. Long and angsty, I'll try to find something more cheerful to write soon.
Their companies were fighting side by side, with another led by Vanget on his left and one by Wyldon on Kel’s right.
When had the war escalated so? Kel had rid the Scanrans of their metal giants, where had this force come from that they needed more than their four combined companies to fight them? They had been battling Scanrans since the early hours of the morning, and now, with the sun glaring down overhead—what right had that to shine so brightly in the middle of winter so far north—Raoul was exhausted. Men were dying for Tortall here, for their king, their commanders. His mind wandered to Buri fighting fiercely at his back and Kel some hundred yards to his right, Gods help him if a woman died on this field today as well.
Worry. He couldn’t help but worry, wonder at the outcome at the end of the day. For the first time since this blasted war had begun, he was unsure about who would win. There were so many of them—he would learn later that the Gallans had allied themselves with Maggur.
A loud mangled cry echoed across the battlefield, outrage. Where was it coming from?
The Scanrans began to pull back, retreating. Orders were called to try and force theirs foes into the mighty Vassa, but he let his men go on their own.
Buri pointed to the right and his heart seemed to have plunged itself into the Vassa too. There was no mistaking the small horse-mage struggling to keep his Knight mistress on her feet across the expanse of dead soldiers.
Kel.
Raoul didn’t remember running to her, only that he was the one holding her now. The fumes of blood that he had assumed himself to be immune to were overpowering now that they belonged to her.
“Kel? Kel don’t—you can’t—“ His throat sealed itself and his eyes stung.
“She’s not…?” A gruff voice asked; he looked up. Of course, he would be here too. “We should get her to Queenscove.”
Raoul could see it in his face, it wouldn’t make a difference. Not really. She could never make it.
“He’ll want to see her, before—“ but even Wyldon of Cavall couldn’t say the words, couldn’t face the truth here. With her.
“My Lord…” Kel whispered, “My Lord, I—I’m sorry—“
“Shh, Kel, don’t talk,” Raoul said quietly, holding her close against his chest. “We’re taking you to Neal, you’ll be fine.”
The lie tugged at his heart, but she smiled. “’We?’”
Wyldon took one of her hands and squeezed, “Queenscove will have you battle-ready again soon.”
Raoul couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at her eyes, couldn’t look at Tobe’s tear soaked face. Lies. Neal’s face—already drawn from every other wounded man he’d cared for—cut through Raoul. Anguish and heartbreak. He’d used so much of his Gift already, his father was at the other end of the battlefield with as many patients—if not more—and the Lioness? Where was she?
Raoul placed her gently on a cot vacated instantly by one of her own men. Wyldon still held her hand, she hadn’t let it go.
Neal collapsed next to Wyldon to kneel by her head, “What have you gone and done now Kel?”
His exasperation was forced, but she smiled at him. Raoul knelt on the other side as Tobe sat on the end by her feet. The tent was silent, the men in here all knew her, the Lady Knight. Their commander, their friend.
“You told me once, Sir, that if I died—“ She coughed, blood spilling from her lips. Neal touched her face softly, a faint glow of green magic to ease her pain.
“You’re not going to die Kel,” Raoul insisted, taking her other hand. “And I’ll always speak to you.”
But her hazel eyes faded, her grip slackened, and Neal’s magic waned. Wyldon stood, the ice in his demeanor had vanished, and Raoul felt that a piece from all of them had passed into the Dark God’s realms today.
Rating: PG i believe
Length: 670, long.
Competitor: Raoul
Round/Fight: 2/A
Summary: Raoul vows that no women will die on the battlefield today. Long and angsty, I'll try to find something more cheerful to write soon.
Their companies were fighting side by side, with another led by Vanget on his left and one by Wyldon on Kel’s right.
When had the war escalated so? Kel had rid the Scanrans of their metal giants, where had this force come from that they needed more than their four combined companies to fight them? They had been battling Scanrans since the early hours of the morning, and now, with the sun glaring down overhead—what right had that to shine so brightly in the middle of winter so far north—Raoul was exhausted. Men were dying for Tortall here, for their king, their commanders. His mind wandered to Buri fighting fiercely at his back and Kel some hundred yards to his right, Gods help him if a woman died on this field today as well.
Worry. He couldn’t help but worry, wonder at the outcome at the end of the day. For the first time since this blasted war had begun, he was unsure about who would win. There were so many of them—he would learn later that the Gallans had allied themselves with Maggur.
A loud mangled cry echoed across the battlefield, outrage. Where was it coming from?
The Scanrans began to pull back, retreating. Orders were called to try and force theirs foes into the mighty Vassa, but he let his men go on their own.
Buri pointed to the right and his heart seemed to have plunged itself into the Vassa too. There was no mistaking the small horse-mage struggling to keep his Knight mistress on her feet across the expanse of dead soldiers.
Kel.
Raoul didn’t remember running to her, only that he was the one holding her now. The fumes of blood that he had assumed himself to be immune to were overpowering now that they belonged to her.
“Kel? Kel don’t—you can’t—“ His throat sealed itself and his eyes stung.
“She’s not…?” A gruff voice asked; he looked up. Of course, he would be here too. “We should get her to Queenscove.”
Raoul could see it in his face, it wouldn’t make a difference. Not really. She could never make it.
“He’ll want to see her, before—“ but even Wyldon of Cavall couldn’t say the words, couldn’t face the truth here. With her.
“My Lord…” Kel whispered, “My Lord, I—I’m sorry—“
“Shh, Kel, don’t talk,” Raoul said quietly, holding her close against his chest. “We’re taking you to Neal, you’ll be fine.”
The lie tugged at his heart, but she smiled. “’We?’”
Wyldon took one of her hands and squeezed, “Queenscove will have you battle-ready again soon.”
Raoul couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at her eyes, couldn’t look at Tobe’s tear soaked face. Lies. Neal’s face—already drawn from every other wounded man he’d cared for—cut through Raoul. Anguish and heartbreak. He’d used so much of his Gift already, his father was at the other end of the battlefield with as many patients—if not more—and the Lioness? Where was she?
Raoul placed her gently on a cot vacated instantly by one of her own men. Wyldon still held her hand, she hadn’t let it go.
Neal collapsed next to Wyldon to kneel by her head, “What have you gone and done now Kel?”
His exasperation was forced, but she smiled at him. Raoul knelt on the other side as Tobe sat on the end by her feet. The tent was silent, the men in here all knew her, the Lady Knight. Their commander, their friend.
“You told me once, Sir, that if I died—“ She coughed, blood spilling from her lips. Neal touched her face softly, a faint glow of green magic to ease her pain.
“You’re not going to die Kel,” Raoul insisted, taking her other hand. “And I’ll always speak to you.”
But her hazel eyes faded, her grip slackened, and Neal’s magic waned. Wyldon stood, the ice in his demeanor had vanished, and Raoul felt that a piece from all of them had passed into the Dark God’s realms today.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!