Post by wordy on Mar 8, 2011 11:54:48 GMT 10
Title: Rebel with a Cause
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 338
Pairing: Jon/Zahir - Team Bend-a-lot
Fight: 1A
Summary: Zahir feels that his relationship with his knight master is less than perfect. He has a point to make.
Sometimes Zahir wondered if it was all in his head. But he had noticed it too many times to just dismiss it, seen Jonathan eyeing him as if he was nothing more than a fine piece of horseflesh to flaunt about. Underneath him, his own horse moved restlessly, and Zahir flicked down his visor. He could already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, a small droplet breaking away to follow a path down his nose. It still hurt when he breathed, but the healer had said that it would feel better in a few days. Zahir could still remember the feeling of breaking bone and twisting flesh, the fierce pain that had shot through his skull as his vision began to go black.
The thought brought him back to the present. He returned his attention to the armoured knight waiting at the other end of the titling field, the flutter of colour as the flag went down. Urging his horse forward with his knees, something inside Zahir seemed to stem into life as they thundered down the lane; the knowledge that his knight master would be watching sharply from the Royal box made his mind up for him.
His lance shattering against the other man’s shield sent a thrill through him, some detached part of his mind recognising with satisfaction the blow to Jonathan’s ego. He was knocked aside by the force of the knight’s blow, the impact jarring all of the bones in his body as the ground rushed up to meet him. His helm bouncing against his face was unfortunate; he felt it when some of his teeth came loose, at least one shattering hideously as he tasted the blood run onto his tongue.
Through the thin slit in his visor he saw the crowd rising, and someone’s legs running towards him across the field. He let his head rest on the ground as the pounding grew more painful. Before the healer attempted to remove the battered helm, Zahir allowed himself a private, victorious smile.
QC by: journeycat
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 338
Pairing: Jon/Zahir - Team Bend-a-lot
Fight: 1A
Summary: Zahir feels that his relationship with his knight master is less than perfect. He has a point to make.
Sometimes Zahir wondered if it was all in his head. But he had noticed it too many times to just dismiss it, seen Jonathan eyeing him as if he was nothing more than a fine piece of horseflesh to flaunt about. Underneath him, his own horse moved restlessly, and Zahir flicked down his visor. He could already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, a small droplet breaking away to follow a path down his nose. It still hurt when he breathed, but the healer had said that it would feel better in a few days. Zahir could still remember the feeling of breaking bone and twisting flesh, the fierce pain that had shot through his skull as his vision began to go black.
The thought brought him back to the present. He returned his attention to the armoured knight waiting at the other end of the titling field, the flutter of colour as the flag went down. Urging his horse forward with his knees, something inside Zahir seemed to stem into life as they thundered down the lane; the knowledge that his knight master would be watching sharply from the Royal box made his mind up for him.
His lance shattering against the other man’s shield sent a thrill through him, some detached part of his mind recognising with satisfaction the blow to Jonathan’s ego. He was knocked aside by the force of the knight’s blow, the impact jarring all of the bones in his body as the ground rushed up to meet him. His helm bouncing against his face was unfortunate; he felt it when some of his teeth came loose, at least one shattering hideously as he tasted the blood run onto his tongue.
Through the thin slit in his visor he saw the crowd rising, and someone’s legs running towards him across the field. He let his head rest on the ground as the pounding grew more painful. Before the healer attempted to remove the battered helm, Zahir allowed himself a private, victorious smile.
QC by: journeycat