Scaring off the Competition
May. 12th, 2009 12:27 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title Scaring off the Competition
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ More random minifics that've cropped up over the course of writing Rust. This one~ is from the desert survival training camp, as held by Naraan and token First Company swordie, Melraan. Didn't quite come out as I'd hoped, but meh. It's down.
~ ~ ~
Naraan folded his arms behind his head with a contented sigh. The coals of the fire made gentle tinkling sounds of near-dead fire, rustling occasionally as one lump of blackened wood shifted in the warm glow. The wind had the distinct hushing of a heatwave blowing down from the north, sighing through the spinifex and saltbush with an edge of Aeia’s warning to its voice, though it was too late in the Autumn for anything particularly fierce. Voices murmured around him with the occasional laugh or exclamation at a shooting star overhead.
If Naraan closed his eyes and imagined the voices around him to be a few octaves lower, it almost could have been an Own mission. He frowned for a moment, wondering just why he wanted it to be.
The sand creaked and shifted next to him as someone sat down, and he turned his head and lazily opened his eyes, eyebrows raised in anticipation of the question to come.
‘Not bad, Naraan,’ the token First Company said as he rested back on his hands.
‘What’s that?’ Naraan returned. ‘The nira?’
‘Mmm,’ Melraan confirmed with a nod. ‘Is that how you usually eat on missions?’
The archer shifted his shoulders in an awkward shrug and settled himself back again to watch the stars. ‘Pretty much. Depends on who’s cooking.’ He scratched at the back of his head with a grin. ‘You can really tell the ones who ask the missus for advice.’
The swordie snorted. ‘There are guys who actually make that effort?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Naraan answered, quite serious. ‘Biggest test on your first mission is to see how well you can cook. It’s all there is for the first month.’
Melraan laughed again. ‘Screw the weapon, it’s all about the cooking?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Guess I’d better brush up, then.’
Naraan raised his eyebrows and looked over at the swordsman. ‘You reckon you’ve got what it takes?’
Melraan grinned back at him. ‘Cooking? Nah, couldn’t handle that for three months straight. Sword, though…’ He shrugged with the feigned modesty Naraan was all too familiar with. ‘What’s your reckoning?’
The archery master shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t have a clue, quael, I don’t do swords.’
‘Well, yeah, but have the guys been saying anything?’
Naraan shrugged again. ‘Beats me. We don’t tend to talk about potential competition until there’s an Own challenge on. I have my ideas on potential archers, but swordies?’ He scoffed at himself. ‘Not a clue.’
‘Fair call,’ Melraan conceded. ‘Is it worth it?’
‘Aeia, no,’ the Own rider answered. ‘Well, I lie. Sometimes it almost seems it, then your mate gets killed and you really have to wonder.’ He pushed himself up onto his elbows with a grunt of effort. ‘You can get used to the cold and the rain and the fog and the bugs and not being able to see the horizon, but the day you get used to your mates dying is the day you quit.’
Melraan was watching the glimmering coals. ‘Heavy,’ he said finally.
Naraan yawned and hung his head back to look at the stars. ‘We do that sometimes.’ He grinned. ‘Swordies like to call it scaring off the competition.’
‘Ah,’ the swordie said at length, resting on one elbow to give the archery master a lopsided grin. ‘So I am competition, then, am I?’
Naraan pushed himself into a sitting position, laughing and shaking his head. ‘Not to me, you’re not. I swear, I have no idea what the har—the red shirts are thinking.’ He dusted his hands off and yawned again as he stared at the coals. ‘That’ll about do me, I reckon.’
He drew himself to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, then shook the sand from his hair. ‘Righto gentlemen,’ he said, addressing the dozen or so army trainees he was in charge of. ‘I want us up two hours before dawn.’
‘Why so early, Master?’ one of the boys complained through a yawn.
Naraan cocked an eyebrow at him, recognising the young blade archer’s whine all too well by now.
‘Heatwave on the horizon,’ he answered flatly. ‘Don’t need desert magic to tell you that much. The less midday riding we have to do, the better. Off you go, then.’
The boys must have been too tired to argue. They took Naraan’s explanation with only minimal grumbling as they bundled off to their tents.
‘See how they go come the wake-up call,’ the Own rider murmured under his breath. He took one last look up at the stars as he stretched his spine once more, then yawned and crawled into his tent.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ More random minifics that've cropped up over the course of writing Rust. This one~ is from the desert survival training camp, as held by Naraan and token First Company swordie, Melraan. Didn't quite come out as I'd hoped, but meh. It's down.
Naraan folded his arms behind his head with a contented sigh. The coals of the fire made gentle tinkling sounds of near-dead fire, rustling occasionally as one lump of blackened wood shifted in the warm glow. The wind had the distinct hushing of a heatwave blowing down from the north, sighing through the spinifex and saltbush with an edge of Aeia’s warning to its voice, though it was too late in the Autumn for anything particularly fierce. Voices murmured around him with the occasional laugh or exclamation at a shooting star overhead.
If Naraan closed his eyes and imagined the voices around him to be a few octaves lower, it almost could have been an Own mission. He frowned for a moment, wondering just why he wanted it to be.
The sand creaked and shifted next to him as someone sat down, and he turned his head and lazily opened his eyes, eyebrows raised in anticipation of the question to come.
‘Not bad, Naraan,’ the token First Company said as he rested back on his hands.
‘What’s that?’ Naraan returned. ‘The nira?’
‘Mmm,’ Melraan confirmed with a nod. ‘Is that how you usually eat on missions?’
The archer shifted his shoulders in an awkward shrug and settled himself back again to watch the stars. ‘Pretty much. Depends on who’s cooking.’ He scratched at the back of his head with a grin. ‘You can really tell the ones who ask the missus for advice.’
The swordie snorted. ‘There are guys who actually make that effort?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Naraan answered, quite serious. ‘Biggest test on your first mission is to see how well you can cook. It’s all there is for the first month.’
Melraan laughed again. ‘Screw the weapon, it’s all about the cooking?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Guess I’d better brush up, then.’
Naraan raised his eyebrows and looked over at the swordsman. ‘You reckon you’ve got what it takes?’
Melraan grinned back at him. ‘Cooking? Nah, couldn’t handle that for three months straight. Sword, though…’ He shrugged with the feigned modesty Naraan was all too familiar with. ‘What’s your reckoning?’
The archery master shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t have a clue, quael, I don’t do swords.’
‘Well, yeah, but have the guys been saying anything?’
Naraan shrugged again. ‘Beats me. We don’t tend to talk about potential competition until there’s an Own challenge on. I have my ideas on potential archers, but swordies?’ He scoffed at himself. ‘Not a clue.’
‘Fair call,’ Melraan conceded. ‘Is it worth it?’
‘Aeia, no,’ the Own rider answered. ‘Well, I lie. Sometimes it almost seems it, then your mate gets killed and you really have to wonder.’ He pushed himself up onto his elbows with a grunt of effort. ‘You can get used to the cold and the rain and the fog and the bugs and not being able to see the horizon, but the day you get used to your mates dying is the day you quit.’
Melraan was watching the glimmering coals. ‘Heavy,’ he said finally.
Naraan yawned and hung his head back to look at the stars. ‘We do that sometimes.’ He grinned. ‘Swordies like to call it scaring off the competition.’
‘Ah,’ the swordie said at length, resting on one elbow to give the archery master a lopsided grin. ‘So I am competition, then, am I?’
Naraan pushed himself into a sitting position, laughing and shaking his head. ‘Not to me, you’re not. I swear, I have no idea what the har—the red shirts are thinking.’ He dusted his hands off and yawned again as he stared at the coals. ‘That’ll about do me, I reckon.’
He drew himself to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, then shook the sand from his hair. ‘Righto gentlemen,’ he said, addressing the dozen or so army trainees he was in charge of. ‘I want us up two hours before dawn.’
‘Why so early, Master?’ one of the boys complained through a yawn.
Naraan cocked an eyebrow at him, recognising the young blade archer’s whine all too well by now.
‘Heatwave on the horizon,’ he answered flatly. ‘Don’t need desert magic to tell you that much. The less midday riding we have to do, the better. Off you go, then.’
The boys must have been too tired to argue. They took Naraan’s explanation with only minimal grumbling as they bundled off to their tents.
‘See how they go come the wake-up call,’ the Own rider murmured under his breath. He took one last look up at the stars as he stretched his spine once more, then yawned and crawled into his tent.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-11 03:13 pm (UTC)BUT I love this :D It's nice to see an aspect of army life/training we've not seen before. Besides which littler Melraan is always adorable <3
And Naraan is also ever awesome D: WE MISS HIM.
‘Aeia, no,’ the Own rider answered. ‘Well, I lie. Sometimes it almost seems it, then your mate gets killed and you really have to wonder.’ He pushed himself up onto his elbows with a grunt of effort. ‘You can get used to the cold and the rain an the fog and the bugs and not being able to see the horizon, but the day you get used to your mates dying is the day you quit.’
Paragraph is teh sex <3
no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 06:44 am (UTC)Melraan is always fun to write <3 Never gives any issues, whatever age XD
Thankuuuu for comment, even if mushy-headed XD
no subject
Date: 2009-05-11 04:57 pm (UTC)You describe teh manly mens so well <3 You really get a sense of thier common way of speaking. I love the question "What’s your reckoning?" <333 Its awesome and cocky <3 I just love how the conversation flows. How Naraan gives a compliment without actually saying. <3
Little sleepy trainees are adorable too <3 Nyaa.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 06:55 am (UTC)Thankuu for commenting hun! *^^*
no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 01:37 pm (UTC)He frowned for a moment, wondering just why he wanted it to be. <- I'd love to know that too, you know?
Not bad, Naraan <- Why the stress on the second syllable? *curious and sees no in-narrative explanation*
‘Aeia, no,’ the Own rider answered. ‘Well, I lie. Sometimes it almost seems it, then your mate gets killed and you really have to wonder.’ He pushed himself up onto his elbows with a grunt of effort. ‘You can get used to the cold and the rain and the fog and the bugs and not being able to see the horizon, but the day you get used to your mates dying is the day you quit.’ <- That is a fantastic description of Ownness. I really, really, really like that description, so I do.
‘See how they go come the wake-up call,’ <- Noice ickle ending. I like this little bunny. It says a lot in very few words. I likee a lot. ^-^ Even if I fail at giving much constructiveness comments.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 01:46 pm (UTC)I'd love to know that too, you know?
Something familiar? XD
Why the stress on the second syllable?
It's a Melraan thing X3 Something he's picked up from his wife and that he's been doing so long I haven't bothered explaining as such XD He's a nut <3
no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 01:55 pm (UTC)Melraan is a loveable nut, though...