Are you and Charels... An item?
WHAT?! NO!!
I need to find something to do this week. Like a get together or something like we did last week. Anything would do. I'm just bored out of my mind without the constant presence of my friends that I had at AGS. Anywho, I got bored and wrote a story. Well, more like the begining of one. And I have no idea where I'm going with it.
Bang. Crack. Thump.
“You’re getting too aggressive. Do it again”
A rough looking teen was sitting in the dust of the ground looking up in disgust at the older man looming over him. A long staff was thrust at his face for him to take, but he batted it away with contempt.
“All you ever do is tell me how I’m doing it wrong! Why can’t you tell me how to do it right?!” he shouted at the man.
“I am telling you how to do it. You’re just too thickheaded to get it.”
The elder male had an air of wisdom and superiority about him. He looked old with his scruff growing about his face in thick patches and his slightly graying hair, but the way he held himself suggested a younger age. He threw the rod down in the lap of the rebellious adolescent and motioned for him to start again.
A spit to the ground and a roll later, a flurry of jabs erupted from the teen as he shot up from the ground and into the face of his opponent. The movements would have been indiscernible to an untrained eye. The older one could track them with ease, they were much too obvious to him. He batted away every attack with ease and grace; his own weapon flowing like the waters of a river.
Crack. Snap. Thump.
The teen was back with his rear in the dirt still holding the broken end of his staff in a tightly clenched hand, knuckles blazing white. If this wasn’t the most angering and discouraging thing on the planet, he wasn’t sure what was. He stood up and threw the stick to the ground in fury.
“I can’t use a sword, I can’t use a staff…” “You have horrid aim with a bow.” The man interjected. “Thanks.” He brushed himself clean and stalked off over to a cluster of tents not far in the distance. The man etched a small symbol in the dirt where they had been sparring and murmured a small prayer. “That kid is hopeless.” Wake up. Eat. Do chores. Train. Eat. Train. Do chores. Eat. Do Chores. Sleep. That was all he did everyday. That was what he was sick and tired of everyday. He didn’t even know why he was there or even how he got there. All he knew was that he was supposed to do everything, everyday, and not have any questions answered. He had asked why he had to do all of this once. He got a ‘because you just are’ and a nice round of chores afterwards.
“This is so pointless!” He tore his shirt off and threw it onto the ground like it was the source of his anger and slammed himself onto his bed. If he came into his tent right now, he’d show him how bad of an aim with a bow he was. He was so annoyed with constantly being told he was too aggressive, and too careless, and how he should calm down and reach inner focus. Those were all a bunch of meaningless words to him. If they wanted him to become a great warrior or whatever; they shouldn’t be worried with how graceful and calm he was. He should be learning how to slay beasts and things like that. Nothing made sense to him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A blaring noise from a bell somewhere around him jerked a teen from his sleep. He didn’t know where he was or who he was, or even why this loud noise was blasting at him. The flap of his tent was ripped open as he was about to stand up from the cot he was laying in. He was greeted with a shout
“Simon! We need to go! Now!”
That’s who he was. Simon. A kid that was dragged to this place against his will. He thought. And now he was being told to run off to God knows where because a bell was ringing. If this was a drill, he was going to kill someone. Simon didn’t even bother putting a shirt on. He just grabbed the emergency bag he had to keep. Something he was glad for now. It had most of his weapons on it; his sword and bow strapped to the side. He grabbed his staff as he ran from the tent into a smoke filled night. He looked around in the darkness only to see fleeing bodies and several tents on fire not to far away. It wasn’t a drill after all. He tried to spot any assailants in the area, but he could see none. Someone grabbed him by the arm and tugged him along; he had no choice but to follow everyone out of the camp.
Plus, it's a load of crap.
Good.
The Maculate Magister · Wed Aug 06, 2008 @ 04:49am · 0 Comments |