15min fic #9
Aug. 13th, 2004 02:07 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Worthy Opponent
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still~ mine =D
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 9. Who would you bet on? =3
~ ~ ~
Nimay worked her fingers into the grip, gaining the best, most comfortable position possible to launch her attack. Her smooth, dark brow creased and one corner of her mouth upturned in silent, mocking challenge.
Her opponent wore a similar expression, showing he was equally confident of himself. His own olive-skinned fingers wrapped around the golden handle, shaped to resemble the deadly thrai.
“Prepared?” he asked, eyebrows half-raised in question.
Nimay’s eyebrows jerked up momentarily: ‘I could ask the same of you.’
Around the two opponents, voices, both masculine and feminine, clattered against each other, wagering on who would be the victor of one of the toughest battles any of them had seen. The air grew stuffier as the tension rose, though the source of it was certainly the crowd more than the competitors—both were supremely confident the other would fall.
Nimay’s expression hardened; her opponent mirrored her. They were ready.
Melraan stretched one hand between the two, looked them both in the eye to make sure they were ready, then snapped his hand back.
Shouts suddenly erupted from the already loud arena. Nimay could hear snatches of her own name and title, as well as those of her opponent. She could see out of the corner of her eye, her adversary extending his left arm, coaxing the excited audience to cheer louder.
The General of the King’s Own grinned despite herself, drained the last of her sparkling Liquid Sunset and slammed the glass back down on the table. The two bangs that signalled the end of the contest were near-simultaneous, and of course both competitors were certain theirs was the glass that hit the table first. Both turned to Melraan for confirmation of what they already knew to be true.
The swordsman blinked at the two empty glasses, then the two intent faces of the contestants holding them. He sighed melodramatically and shook his head.
“Hurry up and name your victor,” Nimay’s opponent jeered impatiently.
Melraan grinned, then turned to Nimay. “I love having this kind of power,” he said with a wink.
The General smirked and rolled her eyes, following her rival’s opinion in at least this matter.
“Very well,” the swordsman answered. His arm extended towards his chosen victor, heralding more cheers from the impatient crowd.
The prince stood and bowed to the tenants of the Golden Thrai. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, then laid one hand on Nimay’s shoulder, grinning broadly. “You were a worthy opponent, General. Now about that celebratory round…”
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still~ mine =D
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 9. Who would you bet on? =3
Nimay worked her fingers into the grip, gaining the best, most comfortable position possible to launch her attack. Her smooth, dark brow creased and one corner of her mouth upturned in silent, mocking challenge.
Her opponent wore a similar expression, showing he was equally confident of himself. His own olive-skinned fingers wrapped around the golden handle, shaped to resemble the deadly thrai.
“Prepared?” he asked, eyebrows half-raised in question.
Nimay’s eyebrows jerked up momentarily: ‘I could ask the same of you.’
Around the two opponents, voices, both masculine and feminine, clattered against each other, wagering on who would be the victor of one of the toughest battles any of them had seen. The air grew stuffier as the tension rose, though the source of it was certainly the crowd more than the competitors—both were supremely confident the other would fall.
Nimay’s expression hardened; her opponent mirrored her. They were ready.
Melraan stretched one hand between the two, looked them both in the eye to make sure they were ready, then snapped his hand back.
Shouts suddenly erupted from the already loud arena. Nimay could hear snatches of her own name and title, as well as those of her opponent. She could see out of the corner of her eye, her adversary extending his left arm, coaxing the excited audience to cheer louder.
The General of the King’s Own grinned despite herself, drained the last of her sparkling Liquid Sunset and slammed the glass back down on the table. The two bangs that signalled the end of the contest were near-simultaneous, and of course both competitors were certain theirs was the glass that hit the table first. Both turned to Melraan for confirmation of what they already knew to be true.
The swordsman blinked at the two empty glasses, then the two intent faces of the contestants holding them. He sighed melodramatically and shook his head.
“Hurry up and name your victor,” Nimay’s opponent jeered impatiently.
Melraan grinned, then turned to Nimay. “I love having this kind of power,” he said with a wink.
The General smirked and rolled her eyes, following her rival’s opinion in at least this matter.
“Very well,” the swordsman answered. His arm extended towards his chosen victor, heralding more cheers from the impatient crowd.
The prince stood and bowed to the tenants of the Golden Thrai. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, then laid one hand on Nimay’s shoulder, grinning broadly. “You were a worthy opponent, General. Now about that celebratory round…”