Post by Shhasow on Mar 20, 2011 8:28:16 GMT 10
Title: Son of the Desert (2)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 357
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: Zahir is affected, haunted by his father.
Zahir couldn’t help himself.
At every stop, every time, every time he passed a black-haired fair-skinned Tortallan man, he peered into their eyes. It was clear the random passersby found him disconcerting, for they looked away nervously when the boy stared at them with searching black eyes.
The escort said nothing of his odd new proclivity, but once Zahir looked for too long at a particularly testy knight, who nearly drew his sword on the ‘sand scut.’ It was only the presence of a half-dozen war-armed Bazhir that convinced him to keep his weapon sheathed. He did so with a muffled curse and a rude gesture.
After this, the oldest warrior took Zahir aside and advised him that, whatever he was looking for, he would not find it if his head were no longer connected to his body. Zahir simply nodded and resolved to be more subtle. Abandoning this before he had barely begun was out of the question.
It was for naught, as they passed few people close enough to gauge eye color, and Zahir had the creeping feeling that he might ride right by the man and not even know. He had the mad urge to stop each person and demand name, age, and the last time they’d visited the Bloody Hawk tribe.
The haunting spectre of a blue-eyed man named Jon hung over the boy. With every step of the light-footed mare, Zahir was that much closer to his father. With every second that passed, Zahir was that much closer to finding him.
QC: by Cassandra
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 357
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: Zahir is affected, haunted by his father.
Zahir couldn’t help himself.
At every stop, every time, every time he passed a black-haired fair-skinned Tortallan man, he peered into their eyes. It was clear the random passersby found him disconcerting, for they looked away nervously when the boy stared at them with searching black eyes.
The escort said nothing of his odd new proclivity, but once Zahir looked for too long at a particularly testy knight, who nearly drew his sword on the ‘sand scut.’ It was only the presence of a half-dozen war-armed Bazhir that convinced him to keep his weapon sheathed. He did so with a muffled curse and a rude gesture.
After this, the oldest warrior took Zahir aside and advised him that, whatever he was looking for, he would not find it if his head were no longer connected to his body. Zahir simply nodded and resolved to be more subtle. Abandoning this before he had barely begun was out of the question.
It was for naught, as they passed few people close enough to gauge eye color, and Zahir had the creeping feeling that he might ride right by the man and not even know. He had the mad urge to stop each person and demand name, age, and the last time they’d visited the Bloody Hawk tribe.
The haunting spectre of a blue-eyed man named Jon hung over the boy. With every step of the light-footed mare, Zahir was that much closer to his father. With every second that passed, Zahir was that much closer to finding him.
QC: by Cassandra
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!