Genesis 107
Sep. 7th, 2006 02:18 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Newbie
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Genesis 107. Intro fic for Haenel, the newest member of the King's Own. This is the morning of his first mission, and you don't really need any more backstory than that =3
~ ~ ~
Haenel turned his sword over in his hands, admiring the light as it twinkled in the polished rubies and sent sparkles of red sunlight dancing over his skin. The black obsidian of the hilt almost seemed to steal the sunlight from around it and hide it away beneath its blackness, only letting a tiny crack escape from its glossy surface.
He made a few experimental passes with it, shaking his head in disbelief. It was so light, so fluid in his grip, so perfect. He’d loved his regulation First Company blade when he’d been presented with it, but his Own blade made that one look like the wooden swords he’d used in second year training. This one was absolutely perfect, and it was his.
He whipped it around once more and slid it easily into its sheath, looking down at his shoulder as he did so. The red fabric, which previously had one line of white stitching across it to denote him as First Company, was now bare. He was beyond First Company now.
He slung his quiver over his shoulder and shoved his dagger in its sheath on his right hip, then stared at himself in the mirror, admiring his deadly-looking sword hilt and unmarked left shoulder.
If only she could have seen him now.
He sighed heavily. There was nobody now, not since she’d died three years ago. No Papa anymore, of course, and Lin only knew where Mama was. He’d hoped that maybe she’d come out of the stonework when she heard that her son was in the Own, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. He was still the new guy in the Own, so they were hardly going to be impressed by his new weapon. They had years and dozens of missions of experience behind them. In their eyes, he was just the wannabe.
The uptight, try-hard wannabe thinking he could replace General Rau.
He shook his head and threw a dismissive wave at his reflection, growling at himself from the back of his throat.
‘Cool down, Haenel,’ he muttered to himself, snatching up his saddlebags and throwing them roughly over his shoulder. ‘You deserve to be here. You hardly killed Rau yourself. That kind of thing happens in the Own. If you can just make it through this one, they’ll have respect for you and—’
He stopped, spying a pair of bottles on the mantelpiece. Bottled Liquid Sunset from the Golden Thrai two nights ago, bought by the six other swordies of the Own as a celebration of his first mission. He’d downed one last night, but the other was still full.
He snatched it from the mantel and cracked the top off. He tossed his head back and took a few grateful mouthfuls. It wasn’t as good as when Kal poured it at the ‘Thrai, but it was still the strongest brew in the kingdom, and it still gave him that same carefree fuzz.
Haenel looked down at the bottle and smiled.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Genesis 107. Intro fic for Haenel, the newest member of the King's Own. This is the morning of his first mission, and you don't really need any more backstory than that =3
Haenel turned his sword over in his hands, admiring the light as it twinkled in the polished rubies and sent sparkles of red sunlight dancing over his skin. The black obsidian of the hilt almost seemed to steal the sunlight from around it and hide it away beneath its blackness, only letting a tiny crack escape from its glossy surface.
He made a few experimental passes with it, shaking his head in disbelief. It was so light, so fluid in his grip, so perfect. He’d loved his regulation First Company blade when he’d been presented with it, but his Own blade made that one look like the wooden swords he’d used in second year training. This one was absolutely perfect, and it was his.
He whipped it around once more and slid it easily into its sheath, looking down at his shoulder as he did so. The red fabric, which previously had one line of white stitching across it to denote him as First Company, was now bare. He was beyond First Company now.
He slung his quiver over his shoulder and shoved his dagger in its sheath on his right hip, then stared at himself in the mirror, admiring his deadly-looking sword hilt and unmarked left shoulder.
If only she could have seen him now.
He sighed heavily. There was nobody now, not since she’d died three years ago. No Papa anymore, of course, and Lin only knew where Mama was. He’d hoped that maybe she’d come out of the stonework when she heard that her son was in the Own, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. He was still the new guy in the Own, so they were hardly going to be impressed by his new weapon. They had years and dozens of missions of experience behind them. In their eyes, he was just the wannabe.
The uptight, try-hard wannabe thinking he could replace General Rau.
He shook his head and threw a dismissive wave at his reflection, growling at himself from the back of his throat.
‘Cool down, Haenel,’ he muttered to himself, snatching up his saddlebags and throwing them roughly over his shoulder. ‘You deserve to be here. You hardly killed Rau yourself. That kind of thing happens in the Own. If you can just make it through this one, they’ll have respect for you and—’
He stopped, spying a pair of bottles on the mantelpiece. Bottled Liquid Sunset from the Golden Thrai two nights ago, bought by the six other swordies of the Own as a celebration of his first mission. He’d downed one last night, but the other was still full.
He snatched it from the mantel and cracked the top off. He tossed his head back and took a few grateful mouthfuls. It wasn’t as good as when Kal poured it at the ‘Thrai, but it was still the strongest brew in the kingdom, and it still gave him that same carefree fuzz.
Haenel looked down at the bottle and smiled.