kawa~ inspiration #55
May. 5th, 2005 11:45 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Fine Art
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All~ mine
Notes~ kawa~ inspiration 55. Ignorant Llayan =P
~ ~ ~
Nimay sauntered into the sweeping upper-floor room of Nenyad’s castle and dropped into one of the richly upholstered lounges that were scattered around the room. She handed Nolryn a bottle of palace brew that had been shipped across to Nenyad all the way from Ni-Yana, then ripped the top off her own and took a swig.
Lynnlita shook her head helplessly at the Raykinians’ simultaneous ‘ahh’ of satisfaction. “How do Raykinians drink that brew?” she asked, sipping delicately her 4051 Lasamino Estate sparkling burgundy. Her tone suggested she wasn’t expecting an answer.
“With great satisfaction,” Nol replied.
Lynnlita cast her eyes skyward before gazing out over towards the centre of the town, where the jousting arena lay. “Should Nimay not be leaving for her next challenge?”
Nimay shook her head and took another swig.
“Not for another hour or two yet,” Nol confirmed. “You say that with a hint of disgust, Lynnlita.”
“Certainly not.”
“And that was sarcasm.”
The princess’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Sword fighting is not the place for a woman,” she said haughtily, her eyes very much focussed on Nimay rather than Nol.
The swordswoman raised an eyebrow and eyed off with the princess, her only movements the rising of bubbles in her beer. Among the army, this had been named the silent treatment. Nimay could spot Nol hiding a grin from the corner of her eye.
Lynnlita soon broke Nimay’s intense blue gaze, busying herself by smoothing wrinkles from her skirt. When she spoke again to press her point, her voice still retained the same tone, though she had slipped more into stubbornness than determination. “Raykin may be more of a man’s world than Llayad—” ‘Like Lin it is,’ Nimay murmured to herself, “—but that should not mean the women should take up the men’s occupations.”
Nimay snorted, almost choking up some of her beer.
“She should occupy herself with the fine arts, not go gallivanting about the countryside with an ungainly lump of steel.”
Nimay’s eyes widened at the insult, and she heard the prince’s sharp intake of breath in anticipation for how she would react.
Hers was a game of hair’s-breadths, where the slightest error could mean death—the perfect drama performance. Her wrist and sword tip flicked with the same intricacy of an artist’s brush or an embroiderer’s needle. Exhibition fights were often compared to intricate, unchoreographed dances. She wouldn’t argue that the sense of dance was lost in real fights, where the intent was to kill, or at least disarm, rather than entertain, but as far as she was concerned, swordsmanship was a fine art. Unfortunately though, Lynnlita wasn’t going to be able to understand.
She sighed heavily, partly in lament and partly to keep herself from overreacting, then stood and drew her “ungainly lump of steel”, handing it to the ignorant princess.
“Goodness,” Lynnlita breathed, running her fingers over the beautiful carvings and gems that decorated Nimay’s sword. “It really is an artistic design,” she said, returning it to Nimay as though she were handling a fragile glass vase, “but it remains a weapon.”
“Nimay shook her head and sighed hopelessly, then sheathed her sword and returned to her beer.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All~ mine
Notes~ kawa~ inspiration 55. Ignorant Llayan =P
Nimay sauntered into the sweeping upper-floor room of Nenyad’s castle and dropped into one of the richly upholstered lounges that were scattered around the room. She handed Nolryn a bottle of palace brew that had been shipped across to Nenyad all the way from Ni-Yana, then ripped the top off her own and took a swig.
Lynnlita shook her head helplessly at the Raykinians’ simultaneous ‘ahh’ of satisfaction. “How do Raykinians drink that brew?” she asked, sipping delicately her 4051 Lasamino Estate sparkling burgundy. Her tone suggested she wasn’t expecting an answer.
“With great satisfaction,” Nol replied.
Lynnlita cast her eyes skyward before gazing out over towards the centre of the town, where the jousting arena lay. “Should Nimay not be leaving for her next challenge?”
Nimay shook her head and took another swig.
“Not for another hour or two yet,” Nol confirmed. “You say that with a hint of disgust, Lynnlita.”
“Certainly not.”
“And that was sarcasm.”
The princess’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Sword fighting is not the place for a woman,” she said haughtily, her eyes very much focussed on Nimay rather than Nol.
The swordswoman raised an eyebrow and eyed off with the princess, her only movements the rising of bubbles in her beer. Among the army, this had been named the silent treatment. Nimay could spot Nol hiding a grin from the corner of her eye.
Lynnlita soon broke Nimay’s intense blue gaze, busying herself by smoothing wrinkles from her skirt. When she spoke again to press her point, her voice still retained the same tone, though she had slipped more into stubbornness than determination. “Raykin may be more of a man’s world than Llayad—” ‘Like Lin it is,’ Nimay murmured to herself, “—but that should not mean the women should take up the men’s occupations.”
Nimay snorted, almost choking up some of her beer.
“She should occupy herself with the fine arts, not go gallivanting about the countryside with an ungainly lump of steel.”
Nimay’s eyes widened at the insult, and she heard the prince’s sharp intake of breath in anticipation for how she would react.
Hers was a game of hair’s-breadths, where the slightest error could mean death—the perfect drama performance. Her wrist and sword tip flicked with the same intricacy of an artist’s brush or an embroiderer’s needle. Exhibition fights were often compared to intricate, unchoreographed dances. She wouldn’t argue that the sense of dance was lost in real fights, where the intent was to kill, or at least disarm, rather than entertain, but as far as she was concerned, swordsmanship was a fine art. Unfortunately though, Lynnlita wasn’t going to be able to understand.
She sighed heavily, partly in lament and partly to keep herself from overreacting, then stood and drew her “ungainly lump of steel”, handing it to the ignorant princess.
“Goodness,” Lynnlita breathed, running her fingers over the beautiful carvings and gems that decorated Nimay’s sword. “It really is an artistic design,” she said, returning it to Nimay as though she were handling a fragile glass vase, “but it remains a weapon.”
“Nimay shook her head and sighed hopelessly, then sheathed her sword and returned to her beer.