kawa~ inspiration #127
Mar. 20th, 2006 01:50 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Numb
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still~ mine
Notes~ kawa~ 127. Angst~~~ with a crappy ending, but it gets the job done. I don't know Murali. Murali is hard to get to know. He's not a complete nut like the other archers, unless he's actually with~ the other archers .-.;
~ ~ ~
Murali paused for a moment and lowered his bow without firing. He frowned and turned his head back towards the palace gates, trying to hear better.
The Own had returned today—the fact that the palace grounds were nearly deserted was proof enough of this. Up until a few seconds ago, Murali had been able to hear the raucous cheers of the mob welcoming them home from beyond the palace wall, but now there was silence so heavy that he could hear the clopping of the horses’ hooves.
The archer’s fingers suddenly went numb, and a sick feeling began to rise in his stomach. There was only ever one reason why the crowd went silent when the Own rode through the streets of Raykin.
He didn’t hesitate for a second more, and fled the archery range, not bothering to drop his quiver or his bow as he ran. Some stupidly optimistic part at the back of his brain tried to convince him that maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility that Emon had stayed back in Ni-Mytaa for a week or two, but he knew the swordie would never let himself do that.
The horses were riding through the gates just as he rounded the corner, and he didn’t even need to count their number to know who was missing.
Murali’s legs suddenly began to feel weak, and he leant his forearm against the pylon to keep from collapsing to his knees. His eyes kept vainly searching the dismounting Own for that forth blue shirt, but however he counted it, there were only three.
From the looks on their faces, half the Own blamed themselves for Naraan’s death, which probably meant it was Naraan’s own fault.
Murali realised he was shaking his head in denial, and his free hand made fists to try and stop the shaking in it.
Naraan had been the veteran of the Own. He’d been there longer than Rau. He’d been the one to take all the newcomers under his wing, Murali included, while they found their feet among the ranks. Naraan had been the closest friend of so many archers, but Murali had known him the longest, and he hadn’t even been there at his funeral.
Garuk, Gylepi and Nolryn kept close as they walked wearily towards the baths, none of them saying a word. Murali felt a momentary pang of jealousy for the prince, but forced himself to remember that Nol had known him at least since he was four years old.
He wanted to ask what had happened. He wanted to know every tiny detail, but at the same time he didn’t want to know anything.
He didn’t want to know Naraan was gone at all.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still~ mine
Notes~ kawa~ 127. Angst~~~ with a crappy ending, but it gets the job done. I don't know Murali. Murali is hard to get to know. He's not a complete nut like the other archers, unless he's actually with~ the other archers .-.;
Murali paused for a moment and lowered his bow without firing. He frowned and turned his head back towards the palace gates, trying to hear better.
The Own had returned today—the fact that the palace grounds were nearly deserted was proof enough of this. Up until a few seconds ago, Murali had been able to hear the raucous cheers of the mob welcoming them home from beyond the palace wall, but now there was silence so heavy that he could hear the clopping of the horses’ hooves.
The archer’s fingers suddenly went numb, and a sick feeling began to rise in his stomach. There was only ever one reason why the crowd went silent when the Own rode through the streets of Raykin.
He didn’t hesitate for a second more, and fled the archery range, not bothering to drop his quiver or his bow as he ran. Some stupidly optimistic part at the back of his brain tried to convince him that maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility that Emon had stayed back in Ni-Mytaa for a week or two, but he knew the swordie would never let himself do that.
The horses were riding through the gates just as he rounded the corner, and he didn’t even need to count their number to know who was missing.
Murali’s legs suddenly began to feel weak, and he leant his forearm against the pylon to keep from collapsing to his knees. His eyes kept vainly searching the dismounting Own for that forth blue shirt, but however he counted it, there were only three.
From the looks on their faces, half the Own blamed themselves for Naraan’s death, which probably meant it was Naraan’s own fault.
Murali realised he was shaking his head in denial, and his free hand made fists to try and stop the shaking in it.
Naraan had been the veteran of the Own. He’d been there longer than Rau. He’d been the one to take all the newcomers under his wing, Murali included, while they found their feet among the ranks. Naraan had been the closest friend of so many archers, but Murali had known him the longest, and he hadn’t even been there at his funeral.
Garuk, Gylepi and Nolryn kept close as they walked wearily towards the baths, none of them saying a word. Murali felt a momentary pang of jealousy for the prince, but forced himself to remember that Nol had known him at least since he was four years old.
He wanted to ask what had happened. He wanted to know every tiny detail, but at the same time he didn’t want to know anything.
He didn’t want to know Naraan was gone at all.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 07:27 am (UTC)Poor Murali. *pets*
no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 07:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 07:36 am (UTC)...Woo~ tangent much? =D;;