Post by wordy on Jul 27, 2011 12:55:27 GMT 10
Title: Bruised Ego
Rating: G
Couple/Character: Daja/Wyldon
Event: humour high jump
Words: 506
Summary: They call this sport?
“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” said Daja. “Did I agree to this?”
Owen grinned, and lifted her lance up to her. “Nervous?”
What a question to ask. Here she was, atop a horse and about to try and knock another person to the ground with a great big stick. Madness. Complete and utter madness, she thought, hefting the lance into position. Despite having considerable upper-body strength from all her time in the forge, it still took a few tries to get it right.
Satisfied that she was armed correctly, Wyldon’s former squire turned and made his way to the other end of her lane, stopping halfway to duck beneath the barrier into his own lane. His brown curls bounced as he walked, which, for some reason, made her feel even more nervous; how did such a cheerful young man become a knight? Despite Owen’s good humour and pleasant disposition, she knew quite well that he would be able to knock her right onto her rump with little effort. She didn’t even want to think of the things he might have done and experienced during the war.
Wyldon was leaning on the fence to her right, watching, with an old hound at his feet. He had made no move to intervene, which was slightly comforting. Perhaps she wasn’t going to die after all.
“Ready?” called out Owen, mounting his horse.
Daja’s mouth was suddenly very dry. “Ready!”
She nudged her horse into a canter and raised her lance as Owen thundered towards her. Her heart was pounding. The sun glinted off his helm, a bright white light. She braced herself for impact.
She came to slowly, blinking awake to find a familiar face hovering over her. Her entire body ached, from her head down to her toes. She was sure that she would be covered in bruises by tomorrow.
“You hit your head,” said Wyldon. “No, no – don’t try to get up.”
Daja sighed and lowered her head back onto the pillow. She licked her lips. “How did I do?”
“It was your first attempt at jousting,” he replied, deflecting her question.
She closed her eyes. Her aching head seemed worse that way, so she opened them again. Wyldon continued to look down at her. Stubborn. “You may as well tell me now, you know,” she said. “I’ll find out soon anyway. I bet Owen’s just waiting to tell me about it.”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m sure he is.”
Sleep seemed like a good idea. Her eyes could hardly stay open. “Just get it over with,” she demanded.
A strange expression came over his face. Daja squinted up at him for a moment before realising that he was trying not to laugh. “You fell off,” he began.
“I know that! I wouldn’t be lying here like one giant bruise if I hadn’t.”
He shook his head, almost fondly. “You fell off. Before his lance even touched your shield.”
She groaned and shut her eyes. Sleep couldn’t come quick enough to block out his laughter.
Rating: G
Couple/Character: Daja/Wyldon
Event: humour high jump
Words: 506
Summary: They call this sport?
“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” said Daja. “Did I agree to this?”
Owen grinned, and lifted her lance up to her. “Nervous?”
What a question to ask. Here she was, atop a horse and about to try and knock another person to the ground with a great big stick. Madness. Complete and utter madness, she thought, hefting the lance into position. Despite having considerable upper-body strength from all her time in the forge, it still took a few tries to get it right.
Satisfied that she was armed correctly, Wyldon’s former squire turned and made his way to the other end of her lane, stopping halfway to duck beneath the barrier into his own lane. His brown curls bounced as he walked, which, for some reason, made her feel even more nervous; how did such a cheerful young man become a knight? Despite Owen’s good humour and pleasant disposition, she knew quite well that he would be able to knock her right onto her rump with little effort. She didn’t even want to think of the things he might have done and experienced during the war.
Wyldon was leaning on the fence to her right, watching, with an old hound at his feet. He had made no move to intervene, which was slightly comforting. Perhaps she wasn’t going to die after all.
“Ready?” called out Owen, mounting his horse.
Daja’s mouth was suddenly very dry. “Ready!”
She nudged her horse into a canter and raised her lance as Owen thundered towards her. Her heart was pounding. The sun glinted off his helm, a bright white light. She braced herself for impact.
***
She came to slowly, blinking awake to find a familiar face hovering over her. Her entire body ached, from her head down to her toes. She was sure that she would be covered in bruises by tomorrow.
“You hit your head,” said Wyldon. “No, no – don’t try to get up.”
Daja sighed and lowered her head back onto the pillow. She licked her lips. “How did I do?”
“It was your first attempt at jousting,” he replied, deflecting her question.
She closed her eyes. Her aching head seemed worse that way, so she opened them again. Wyldon continued to look down at her. Stubborn. “You may as well tell me now, you know,” she said. “I’ll find out soon anyway. I bet Owen’s just waiting to tell me about it.”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m sure he is.”
Sleep seemed like a good idea. Her eyes could hardly stay open. “Just get it over with,” she demanded.
A strange expression came over his face. Daja squinted up at him for a moment before realising that he was trying not to laugh. “You fell off,” he began.
“I know that! I wouldn’t be lying here like one giant bruise if I hadn’t.”
He shook his head, almost fondly. “You fell off. Before his lance even touched your shield.”
She groaned and shut her eyes. Sleep couldn’t come quick enough to block out his laughter.