Post by Shhasow on Apr 28, 2013 0:04:11 GMT 10
Title: The Other 7 Deadly Sins (#4)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 836
Pairing: G/R
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: In the book of Proverbs, there is listed 7 things that are detested by God, not the traditional list that we all know. This is one of them : “Hands that shed innocent blood.” Warning for implied sexuality and slash.
“Come on, Alan, don’t you want to teach me everything you learned after Tusaine?” George prodded at his friend. He nearly had to shout to be heard over the boisterous cacophony of the Dancing Dove.
She scowled and continued drinking her lemonade. “Let me enjoy this, George! It was impossible to drink anything other than stale water in the River Drell. I didn’t even touch the ale, but it smelled foul.”
Jon laughed and slung an arm around her. “Oh come off it, Alan. The ale wasn’t that bad.”
She glowered at him and shrugged his arm off. “They probably gave you the nancy noble stuff. I ate with the soldiers.” Alanna ignored the pang when she realized how many of the commoners she had befriended that were now dead.
“And I’m sure you learned plenty of knife tricks.” A wicked-looking dagger appeared in George’s hand, and began twirling around his fingers.
“Alan may be too scared to face you, George, but I am not.” Jon swung a heavy leg over the bench and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s not only the commoners that can teach.”
Alanna’s face went red. “I’m not scared! Fine, if you truly wanted some scars, George, all you had to do was ask!”
George laughed and beckoned the pair towards a door that led to an outside garden. “Two challengers!” he said, delighted. “Now, when you spar with the Rogue, you do so to first blood. I assume Alan here can heal you up?”
She nodded, still nursing her tankard. “You first, Jon. I want to enjoy your thrashing properly.”
He laughed, but George did not. He settled into a crouch, all levity gone in an instant. Two knives flicked out from their hidden sheaths, and he waited for the prince to slowly remove his own knives before the Rogue attacked.
It was over quickly. Jon had never learnt much knife fighting, and thieves lived and died by it. George blocked Jon’s first swipe and attacked, forcing Jon on the defensive. The prince desperately blocked the Rogue’s attacks, always catching them at the last second. High, low, middle, high low middle, but then George broke the pattern and caught Jon a grazing blow along his forearm.
He yelped, dropping his knives in pain and surprise. “George!”
“We agreed first blood,” George shrugged. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood oozing from the wound so that he could assess the damage. “You probably won’t have a scar.”
“But if you did, it would remind you to never let your opponent decide the pace of the fight,” Alanna grumbled. She placed one violet hand on the wound and the trio watched the edges fuse together. One last wipe of George’s napkin, and the blood was gone. “I assume that means it is my turn?”
George grinned, and settled down again into a crouch, daggers idly twirling in a circle as he waited for the girl to pull out her own.
To her credit, Alanna held off George for several minutes. They went back and forth, him pressing with his greater reach, and her working to slip inside his guard and land a solid blow. Then they locked together, hilts to hilts, faces nearly close enough to touch.
“Draw?” she panted.
George smirked. “Not a chance.” He hooked one leg behind her own and pulled. Alanna tumbled to the ground, and one of his knives sliced up her arm as she fell.
“Ow. That hurts,” she grumbled. One violet finger went to press against the wound and close it.
“Wait,” George said. “Let me clean it, first.”
“That won’t make a difference,” she said, even as she watched him carefully dot away the welling blood. Her stomach was in knots, and not because of the pain, and Alanna was glad when George moved away.
“Thank you for the fights,” George said cheerfully as he slipped the second handkerchief into his pocket.
Late that night, a candle burned in the Royal Palace, illuminating the faces of Duke Roger and George Cooper.
“Did they suspect anything?”
George snorted and threw the bloodied cloths on the table. “Not a thing. I called them friendly matches. Why would they think anything different?”
Roger hummed as he inspected the blood. “Good samples. Very good, George. You know that this means we can begin the next part of the plan?”
The thief’s eyes glinted in the candlelight. “You already have collected from the King and Queen?”
Roger nodded and cast a spell to preserve the cloths until he could utilize the essence of the blood in his next spell. “All of them. Now there is just the creation of the dolls.”
“And then no one can stop us,” George said in a low, powerful voice. “You will be King, Roger.”
“And you will be at my side, always,” Roger vowed. “In any position you desire.”
“Any position?”
The Duke grinned. “Why, yes. Actually, I can think of a few suggestions right now.”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 836
Pairing: G/R
Round/Fight: 1C
Summary: In the book of Proverbs, there is listed 7 things that are detested by God, not the traditional list that we all know. This is one of them : “Hands that shed innocent blood.” Warning for implied sexuality and slash.
“Come on, Alan, don’t you want to teach me everything you learned after Tusaine?” George prodded at his friend. He nearly had to shout to be heard over the boisterous cacophony of the Dancing Dove.
She scowled and continued drinking her lemonade. “Let me enjoy this, George! It was impossible to drink anything other than stale water in the River Drell. I didn’t even touch the ale, but it smelled foul.”
Jon laughed and slung an arm around her. “Oh come off it, Alan. The ale wasn’t that bad.”
She glowered at him and shrugged his arm off. “They probably gave you the nancy noble stuff. I ate with the soldiers.” Alanna ignored the pang when she realized how many of the commoners she had befriended that were now dead.
“And I’m sure you learned plenty of knife tricks.” A wicked-looking dagger appeared in George’s hand, and began twirling around his fingers.
“Alan may be too scared to face you, George, but I am not.” Jon swung a heavy leg over the bench and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s not only the commoners that can teach.”
Alanna’s face went red. “I’m not scared! Fine, if you truly wanted some scars, George, all you had to do was ask!”
George laughed and beckoned the pair towards a door that led to an outside garden. “Two challengers!” he said, delighted. “Now, when you spar with the Rogue, you do so to first blood. I assume Alan here can heal you up?”
She nodded, still nursing her tankard. “You first, Jon. I want to enjoy your thrashing properly.”
He laughed, but George did not. He settled into a crouch, all levity gone in an instant. Two knives flicked out from their hidden sheaths, and he waited for the prince to slowly remove his own knives before the Rogue attacked.
It was over quickly. Jon had never learnt much knife fighting, and thieves lived and died by it. George blocked Jon’s first swipe and attacked, forcing Jon on the defensive. The prince desperately blocked the Rogue’s attacks, always catching them at the last second. High, low, middle, high low middle, but then George broke the pattern and caught Jon a grazing blow along his forearm.
He yelped, dropping his knives in pain and surprise. “George!”
“We agreed first blood,” George shrugged. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood oozing from the wound so that he could assess the damage. “You probably won’t have a scar.”
“But if you did, it would remind you to never let your opponent decide the pace of the fight,” Alanna grumbled. She placed one violet hand on the wound and the trio watched the edges fuse together. One last wipe of George’s napkin, and the blood was gone. “I assume that means it is my turn?”
George grinned, and settled down again into a crouch, daggers idly twirling in a circle as he waited for the girl to pull out her own.
To her credit, Alanna held off George for several minutes. They went back and forth, him pressing with his greater reach, and her working to slip inside his guard and land a solid blow. Then they locked together, hilts to hilts, faces nearly close enough to touch.
“Draw?” she panted.
George smirked. “Not a chance.” He hooked one leg behind her own and pulled. Alanna tumbled to the ground, and one of his knives sliced up her arm as she fell.
“Ow. That hurts,” she grumbled. One violet finger went to press against the wound and close it.
“Wait,” George said. “Let me clean it, first.”
“That won’t make a difference,” she said, even as she watched him carefully dot away the welling blood. Her stomach was in knots, and not because of the pain, and Alanna was glad when George moved away.
“Thank you for the fights,” George said cheerfully as he slipped the second handkerchief into his pocket.
Late that night, a candle burned in the Royal Palace, illuminating the faces of Duke Roger and George Cooper.
“Did they suspect anything?”
George snorted and threw the bloodied cloths on the table. “Not a thing. I called them friendly matches. Why would they think anything different?”
Roger hummed as he inspected the blood. “Good samples. Very good, George. You know that this means we can begin the next part of the plan?”
The thief’s eyes glinted in the candlelight. “You already have collected from the King and Queen?”
Roger nodded and cast a spell to preserve the cloths until he could utilize the essence of the blood in his next spell. “All of them. Now there is just the creation of the dolls.”
“And then no one can stop us,” George said in a low, powerful voice. “You will be King, Roger.”
“And you will be at my side, always,” Roger vowed. “In any position you desire.”
“Any position?”
The Duke grinned. “Why, yes. Actually, I can think of a few suggestions right now.”