Post by Alliecat on Aug 8, 2012 9:57:08 GMT 10
Title: You're Not David, or Goliath
Rating: PG
Team: Pots/DotL
Prompt: Dear Diary…today I was pompous and my sister was crazy
Word Count: 1111
Summary: Owen can’t always control himself, especially when it comes to fighting bullies. Warning for violence!
:::
Dear Diary,
Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy.
Well. There's more to it than that, Jeffrey. (Is it okay if I call you Jeffrey, Jeffrey? My father always said I needed to seize peoples' attention when I spoke with them, and Jeffrey is far more interesting than Diary.)
She wasn't crazy crazy but crazy upset. And angry. Definitely angry. Kel's not actually my sister, you see, but we spend so much time together I can pretend she is. And what a sister she is, Jeffrey! She's the jolliest, bravest, most dedicated girl I've ever met. I feel terrible that I've disappointed her.
But I still don't think I was pompous. Confident, yes, and stupid but I'm almost always stupid. I'm working on it, Jeffrey. Aren't we all here in Corus to learn? (I’m learning all the time. Yesterday I didn’t even know what pompous meant.)
Anyway, I'll tell you the story. You can decide.
:::
“We’re not patrolling tonight?” His disappointment is tangible, and he pokes Kel again to force her to look up.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pulling a frown. “I know you really want to go. But Neal really hurt his ankle in lessons today and the others are too worn down.”
“You and I could still take Joren,” Owen tries, but Kel shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable going without them. You know our rules.” She looks down to shuffle her papers. “And besides, you can’t tell me you don’t have anything to fill your evening. I know how far you’re behind, Owen.”
“I’m not,” he mutters, his head dropping. There’s a clucking sound coming from Kel, and his cheeks burn. “Really,” he adds, and begins to retreat before she can reply. Kel glances over her shoulder to look back at him, but he’s already gone.
:::
Math is dumb. It’s pointless and an excuse for the masters to force more punishment upon the pages. Maybe it’s useful for people like Kel, who are destined to lead hundreds of others and be responsible for sorts of things like supplies. Maybe.
But for Owen, it’s still dumb.
He tries for another half hour, groaning as he gets stuck again and again, finally tossing his pen across the room when he can’t stand it anymore. “I should ask Kel for help,” he mutters as he retrieves the pen. Slowly, hesitantly, he begins to gather his things. He stacks his math books and papers precariously atop each other in him arms, then sets them down to search for fresh ink.
As he opens several storage boxes in looking for the ink that was gifted to him by his aunt, he reconsiders. “I’ll figure it out later,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “There are more important things to do.”
:::
It doesn’t take long for Owen to find trouble. First he hears the spitting, then the, “Where do you think you’re going?” and the soft thud. By now he’s chasing after the sound of Joren’s taunts and wearing a wicked grin.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Owen says when he rounds the corner. Joren’s crew has their backs to him, but after stiffening momentarily, they turn to face Owen.
“You,” Garvey says maliciously and elbows Quinden. Both begin to cackle.
“Yeah me,” Owen says. He looks down at the new page, who is trapped under Joren’s boot. “I’m here to save you.”
There’s a pause, in which the page stares wide eyed back up at Owen, and then Joren cracks his knuckles. “Right,” he sneers, and then gestures for the boys to advance with him, leaving the page to scramble away.
The beating begins slowly, each boy knocking Owen once and giving him time to lunge back up before letting a comrade have another go. Owen tries to bob and weave, but his concentration begins to falter as the throbbing of his gut amplifies. He starts to stay down, weakly holding up his fists as they begin to kick him. There’s less pausing here; there’s too much adrenaline for the boys to release their aggression slowly. After a few more moments, Garvey’s boot swings rather enthusiastically into Owen’s thigh. The audible crack is accompanied by Owen’s shout of pain, the first noise he has made. The boys step back, looking at Joren, and when he jerks his head towards the hallway, they flee.
Owen lies there for a few minutes, gathering his breath, before hauling himself up with the help of the wall and hobbling to the healer.
:::
“How did you break your leg?” the healer asks, his hands resting lightly on Owen’s skin but his magic probing deeper.
“I was in the stables cleaning and I fell on the hay.” Owen’s cheeks are unnervingly white from the pain. He considers asking for pain medication, as he’s been told the healing will take some time, but already knows he will be denied.
“The stables are locked this time of night, young lad.”
A hint of red creeps onto his cheeks, but it fades quickly. “I, umm, well they forgot to lock them tonight,” he stutters.
The healer raises his eyebrows. “Right,” he says. “Don’t move. I’ll be along ever so often to check on you.”
“Yes, sir.”
The healer steps backwards, though Owen can still feel the magic in his bones. “Try to get some sleep. You’ll be expected to attend all your classes. There will be no complaints.” Owen nods, and the healer disappears.
:::
“You did what?” Owen shrinks under Kel’s yell. Her fury is terrifying, far more so because of its rarity.
Owen straightens some, and unconsciously rubs his leg. “I had to! We are the only defense this place has against hazing! We can’t take a night off!” There’s a pause, and he looks down. “I saved that boy from this,” he gestures at his leg, “happening to him.”
Kel shakes her head. “If you break all your bones, you can not hope to help anybody else. Control,” she says, turning away, “Is as important as bravery.”
:::
So, Jeffrey, what do you think? Was I really behaving that badly?
I hope Kel forgives me soon. It really hurts for her to be so mad at me. Neal hasn’t said that much yet, but he did laugh when I told him what I did last night. Really, that was mean if you ask me. I don’t care if I look “fine” now, it was still mean.
Anyway, Jeffrey, (I really hope it’s okay I call you that) I’ll write to you later. It’ll be a few days though, because Lord Wyldon says I’ll be spending all my spare time cleaning the stables.
Rating: PG
Team: Pots/DotL
Prompt: Dear Diary…today I was pompous and my sister was crazy
Word Count: 1111
Summary: Owen can’t always control himself, especially when it comes to fighting bullies. Warning for violence!
:::
Dear Diary,
Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy.
Well. There's more to it than that, Jeffrey. (Is it okay if I call you Jeffrey, Jeffrey? My father always said I needed to seize peoples' attention when I spoke with them, and Jeffrey is far more interesting than Diary.)
She wasn't crazy crazy but crazy upset. And angry. Definitely angry. Kel's not actually my sister, you see, but we spend so much time together I can pretend she is. And what a sister she is, Jeffrey! She's the jolliest, bravest, most dedicated girl I've ever met. I feel terrible that I've disappointed her.
But I still don't think I was pompous. Confident, yes, and stupid but I'm almost always stupid. I'm working on it, Jeffrey. Aren't we all here in Corus to learn? (I’m learning all the time. Yesterday I didn’t even know what pompous meant.)
Anyway, I'll tell you the story. You can decide.
:::
“We’re not patrolling tonight?” His disappointment is tangible, and he pokes Kel again to force her to look up.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pulling a frown. “I know you really want to go. But Neal really hurt his ankle in lessons today and the others are too worn down.”
“You and I could still take Joren,” Owen tries, but Kel shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable going without them. You know our rules.” She looks down to shuffle her papers. “And besides, you can’t tell me you don’t have anything to fill your evening. I know how far you’re behind, Owen.”
“I’m not,” he mutters, his head dropping. There’s a clucking sound coming from Kel, and his cheeks burn. “Really,” he adds, and begins to retreat before she can reply. Kel glances over her shoulder to look back at him, but he’s already gone.
:::
Math is dumb. It’s pointless and an excuse for the masters to force more punishment upon the pages. Maybe it’s useful for people like Kel, who are destined to lead hundreds of others and be responsible for sorts of things like supplies. Maybe.
But for Owen, it’s still dumb.
He tries for another half hour, groaning as he gets stuck again and again, finally tossing his pen across the room when he can’t stand it anymore. “I should ask Kel for help,” he mutters as he retrieves the pen. Slowly, hesitantly, he begins to gather his things. He stacks his math books and papers precariously atop each other in him arms, then sets them down to search for fresh ink.
As he opens several storage boxes in looking for the ink that was gifted to him by his aunt, he reconsiders. “I’ll figure it out later,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “There are more important things to do.”
:::
It doesn’t take long for Owen to find trouble. First he hears the spitting, then the, “Where do you think you’re going?” and the soft thud. By now he’s chasing after the sound of Joren’s taunts and wearing a wicked grin.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Owen says when he rounds the corner. Joren’s crew has their backs to him, but after stiffening momentarily, they turn to face Owen.
“You,” Garvey says maliciously and elbows Quinden. Both begin to cackle.
“Yeah me,” Owen says. He looks down at the new page, who is trapped under Joren’s boot. “I’m here to save you.”
There’s a pause, in which the page stares wide eyed back up at Owen, and then Joren cracks his knuckles. “Right,” he sneers, and then gestures for the boys to advance with him, leaving the page to scramble away.
The beating begins slowly, each boy knocking Owen once and giving him time to lunge back up before letting a comrade have another go. Owen tries to bob and weave, but his concentration begins to falter as the throbbing of his gut amplifies. He starts to stay down, weakly holding up his fists as they begin to kick him. There’s less pausing here; there’s too much adrenaline for the boys to release their aggression slowly. After a few more moments, Garvey’s boot swings rather enthusiastically into Owen’s thigh. The audible crack is accompanied by Owen’s shout of pain, the first noise he has made. The boys step back, looking at Joren, and when he jerks his head towards the hallway, they flee.
Owen lies there for a few minutes, gathering his breath, before hauling himself up with the help of the wall and hobbling to the healer.
:::
“How did you break your leg?” the healer asks, his hands resting lightly on Owen’s skin but his magic probing deeper.
“I was in the stables cleaning and I fell on the hay.” Owen’s cheeks are unnervingly white from the pain. He considers asking for pain medication, as he’s been told the healing will take some time, but already knows he will be denied.
“The stables are locked this time of night, young lad.”
A hint of red creeps onto his cheeks, but it fades quickly. “I, umm, well they forgot to lock them tonight,” he stutters.
The healer raises his eyebrows. “Right,” he says. “Don’t move. I’ll be along ever so often to check on you.”
“Yes, sir.”
The healer steps backwards, though Owen can still feel the magic in his bones. “Try to get some sleep. You’ll be expected to attend all your classes. There will be no complaints.” Owen nods, and the healer disappears.
:::
“You did what?” Owen shrinks under Kel’s yell. Her fury is terrifying, far more so because of its rarity.
Owen straightens some, and unconsciously rubs his leg. “I had to! We are the only defense this place has against hazing! We can’t take a night off!” There’s a pause, and he looks down. “I saved that boy from this,” he gestures at his leg, “happening to him.”
Kel shakes her head. “If you break all your bones, you can not hope to help anybody else. Control,” she says, turning away, “Is as important as bravery.”
:::
So, Jeffrey, what do you think? Was I really behaving that badly?
I hope Kel forgives me soon. It really hurts for her to be so mad at me. Neal hasn’t said that much yet, but he did laugh when I told him what I did last night. Really, that was mean if you ask me. I don’t care if I look “fine” now, it was still mean.
Anyway, Jeffrey, (I really hope it’s okay I call you that) I’ll write to you later. It’ll be a few days though, because Lord Wyldon says I’ll be spending all my spare time cleaning the stables.