Post by Kit on Mar 8, 2010 17:12:20 GMT 10
Title: King's Champion: Ritual
Rating: PG
Length: 329
Round: 2/D
Competitor: Alanna
Summary: Keladry has three words to say to her liege.
“I fell down.”
“Lady Knight?”
The second Distaff Knight of Tortall stood before her King. Hands folded behind her back, uniform as crisp and clean as the attentions of a former maid and dear friend—unfazed by travel stains and weight gained in the arms and shoulders—could make them, and her eyes, long lashed, were lowered in a faint echo of the pose ingrained into her from years spent in a country where even warriors did not stand before their Emperor.
Her shoulders were squared, her jaw not quite set, as far as Jonathan could see, but there was nothing easy in the stillness of her face. It would be either a very short, or a very long, evening.
“ Your Majesty,” she said. “I fell down.”
The King had been looking at her for the whole audience. Now, his eyes slipped to the ceiling, gracefully arched and far away. “Keladry of Mindelan,” he said. “It is our wish to have clarity.”
A faint shift, a creak of weight in the direction of the Queen’s empty throne. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to be more clear, sire,” she told him, her voice soft and level in the space.
“You do not look injured.” Jonathan allowed himself a slip, a little scorn.
“Not all falls hurt, sire.”
“Lady Knight. You and the Lioness—”
Alanna the Lioness, King’s Champion, might be a Knight who could interrupt her king. Keladry simply looked up.
“I fell, your Majesty,” she said. “I fell down and I fell hard, and that is all I can say, sire.” Her lashes lowered again, the faint splash of colour across her cheek and the look in her eyes that had nearly made the King blush an unsteady memory.
“You...fell down, Lady Knight.”
“I did, sire.”
“And that is all you have to say to your King?”
“Until my falling down affects the realm, sire.”
A long or a short evening. It was. Suddenly, his choice.
Rating: PG
Length: 329
Round: 2/D
Competitor: Alanna
Summary: Keladry has three words to say to her liege.
“I fell down.”
“Lady Knight?”
The second Distaff Knight of Tortall stood before her King. Hands folded behind her back, uniform as crisp and clean as the attentions of a former maid and dear friend—unfazed by travel stains and weight gained in the arms and shoulders—could make them, and her eyes, long lashed, were lowered in a faint echo of the pose ingrained into her from years spent in a country where even warriors did not stand before their Emperor.
Her shoulders were squared, her jaw not quite set, as far as Jonathan could see, but there was nothing easy in the stillness of her face. It would be either a very short, or a very long, evening.
“ Your Majesty,” she said. “I fell down.”
The King had been looking at her for the whole audience. Now, his eyes slipped to the ceiling, gracefully arched and far away. “Keladry of Mindelan,” he said. “It is our wish to have clarity.”
A faint shift, a creak of weight in the direction of the Queen’s empty throne. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to be more clear, sire,” she told him, her voice soft and level in the space.
“You do not look injured.” Jonathan allowed himself a slip, a little scorn.
“Not all falls hurt, sire.”
“Lady Knight. You and the Lioness—”
Alanna the Lioness, King’s Champion, might be a Knight who could interrupt her king. Keladry simply looked up.
“I fell, your Majesty,” she said. “I fell down and I fell hard, and that is all I can say, sire.” Her lashes lowered again, the faint splash of colour across her cheek and the look in her eyes that had nearly made the King blush an unsteady memory.
“You...fell down, Lady Knight.”
“I did, sire.”
“And that is all you have to say to your King?”
“Until my falling down affects the realm, sire.”
A long or a short evening. It was. Suddenly, his choice.