Genesis 105
Sep. 8th, 2006 04:47 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Pessimist
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Genesis 105. Another introductory minific: this is Emon, the pessimist to counter Ulkar's eternally optimistic outlook X3 Girlfriend number I-don't-know-what. Seemingly very positive, but undertones of "or else" in her encouragement. I hope. That's what I was going for X3;
~ ~ ~
Emon rubbed his thumb over the brass pommel of his regulation army sword, picking at a scratch in it with his nail with a heavy sigh. He paused outside the front door to slide it back into its sheath.
Six challenges, he’d fought, and six he’d lost. How could he possibly have thought he’d stood a chance? Those guys had all been on missions and in real swordfights. The worst Emon had ever encountered was in the army barracks. He had no real experience at all. He didn’t have a hope.
He sighed again and swung the front door open.
Kerana’s feet could be heard thundering down the stairs so quickly she almost sounded as though she’d fallen down them. She flew over the balustrade to greet Emon, her face beaming with hope, then falling when she saw his apologetic expression.
‘Oh, Emon,’ she cooed. ‘You’ve only got one more chance, you know? After tomorrow, that’s it, right?’
Emon nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’ He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘After that, you’ll be stuck in First Company forever.’
‘Well, just until they call me up again.’
‘How long will that be?’
The swordsman shrugged. ‘Probably a few months after their next mission. It’s not so bad, really. Even if I don’t win tomorrow, I can still call myself eighth best in Raykin.’
Kerana slapped him on the arm, then hugged him tightly. ‘Stop resigning yourself to your fate before you’ve met it. You’re better than just First Company, Emon. You’ve still got one more chance tomorrow. Who are you up against?’
‘Rumal.’
‘He’s the new one, right?’
Emon nodded. ‘Southerner. He just got in last year, and beat two guys to do it. I’ve seen him training before; he’s unbelievably quick.’
Kerana shook her head, her hair tickling Emon’s chin. ‘Little Southerner upstart. You’ll beat him easily.’
‘Easily wouldn’t be the word I’d choose. Own challenges force you to use everything you know.’
A slender finger pressed against his lips, and Kerana pulled back to look him in the eye. ‘Be more positive, Emon. You’re good. I know you are, otherwise the king wouldn’t have picked you in the first place. Haven’t I always told you that sooner or later you’d get your chance? That you’d get noticed and the General would recommend you for the Own challenge? You’re good enough, Emon.’
Emon kept his mouth shut. He wished he could be so positive, so certain that the position would be his, but he just couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see himself on horseback with his own, custom-made sword and no marks of Company on his left shoulder.
‘I’ll do my best,’ he reassured her.
‘You can do more than that,’ Kerana told him. ‘You can win. You will win. I know you will. Promise me that, Emon. Win for me, okay?’
‘I’ll try.’
She pulled her head back from his chest, looking up at him with fierce determination.
The swordsman smiled and stroked her hair. ‘I promise.’
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Genesis 105. Another introductory minific: this is Emon, the pessimist to counter Ulkar's eternally optimistic outlook X3 Girlfriend number I-don't-know-what. Seemingly very positive, but undertones of "or else" in her encouragement. I hope. That's what I was going for X3;
Emon rubbed his thumb over the brass pommel of his regulation army sword, picking at a scratch in it with his nail with a heavy sigh. He paused outside the front door to slide it back into its sheath.
Six challenges, he’d fought, and six he’d lost. How could he possibly have thought he’d stood a chance? Those guys had all been on missions and in real swordfights. The worst Emon had ever encountered was in the army barracks. He had no real experience at all. He didn’t have a hope.
He sighed again and swung the front door open.
Kerana’s feet could be heard thundering down the stairs so quickly she almost sounded as though she’d fallen down them. She flew over the balustrade to greet Emon, her face beaming with hope, then falling when she saw his apologetic expression.
‘Oh, Emon,’ she cooed. ‘You’ve only got one more chance, you know? After tomorrow, that’s it, right?’
Emon nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’ He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘After that, you’ll be stuck in First Company forever.’
‘Well, just until they call me up again.’
‘How long will that be?’
The swordsman shrugged. ‘Probably a few months after their next mission. It’s not so bad, really. Even if I don’t win tomorrow, I can still call myself eighth best in Raykin.’
Kerana slapped him on the arm, then hugged him tightly. ‘Stop resigning yourself to your fate before you’ve met it. You’re better than just First Company, Emon. You’ve still got one more chance tomorrow. Who are you up against?’
‘Rumal.’
‘He’s the new one, right?’
Emon nodded. ‘Southerner. He just got in last year, and beat two guys to do it. I’ve seen him training before; he’s unbelievably quick.’
Kerana shook her head, her hair tickling Emon’s chin. ‘Little Southerner upstart. You’ll beat him easily.’
‘Easily wouldn’t be the word I’d choose. Own challenges force you to use everything you know.’
A slender finger pressed against his lips, and Kerana pulled back to look him in the eye. ‘Be more positive, Emon. You’re good. I know you are, otherwise the king wouldn’t have picked you in the first place. Haven’t I always told you that sooner or later you’d get your chance? That you’d get noticed and the General would recommend you for the Own challenge? You’re good enough, Emon.’
Emon kept his mouth shut. He wished he could be so positive, so certain that the position would be his, but he just couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see himself on horseback with his own, custom-made sword and no marks of Company on his left shoulder.
‘I’ll do my best,’ he reassured her.
‘You can do more than that,’ Kerana told him. ‘You can win. You will win. I know you will. Promise me that, Emon. Win for me, okay?’
‘I’ll try.’
She pulled her head back from his chest, looking up at him with fierce determination.
The swordsman smiled and stroked her hair. ‘I promise.’