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yrae2005-11-12 01:08 am
annarti.livejournal.com) wrote in yrae2005-11-12 01:08 am
Genesis 010
Title~ Denied
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ Genesis 010. OMFG! Scandal! =0
~ ~ ~
Emon knelt down and rested his weight on his sword, breathing heavily. He watched as the cut on his shirt began to stain with red, the seventh cut of the week. He’d lost; he hadn’t gained a place in the King’s Own. Even when he’d first been approached by the Own’s General, he hadn’t expected to get in, and as the week progressed and his shirt gained more and more marks from his opponents’ swords, his outlook grew steadily less and less optimistic.
He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as his victor patted him on the back.
“You’ll get another chance,” Rumal told him reassuringly, but Emon doubted that he would.
And what would he tell Kerana? She’d been egging him on since he first got into First Company last year, telling him every day that this was the day he’d get noticed by the General, this was the day he’d join the Own. Now that his chance had finally arrived, he’d lost it. How could he possibly tell her he’d lost?
A sharp pain on his cheek made him jump out of his meandering thoughts, and he looked up to see the scowling, tear-streaked face of his girlfriend.
“You promised me!” Kerana screeched, so loudly that Emon cringed back from the ridiculously high decibels, and noticed a few in the dispersing crowd doing the same.
He struggled to his feet, still trying to catch his breath after the intense fight. “I know, Kerana. I’ll get another chance, I will.”
The petite woman planted another slap on his face, mirroring the first. “You promised, Emon! Do you know how much I had been counting on you to win this time?”
Emon hissed in through his teeth and rubbed at the new mark on his face. Somehow, these seemed to sting more than the cut on his chest that Rumal had given him. He took in a deep breath, not willing to argue right now, and went to pick up his sword sheath.
“Don’t you turn your back to me!” Kerana screeched again.
“I’m picking up my scabbard,” Emon explained patiently as he bent down, then clipped the leather sheath onto his belt and shoved his plain, regulation army sword back into it. Maybe another chance would come. There was still a chance. He frowned briefly when something occurred to him.
“How did you get in, anyway?” he asked. “Only people who work at the palace are allowed inside the grounds, even for an event like this.”
Kerana’s intense glare dropped to the cobbles, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She was hiding something.
She whispered something quietly, but her words were caught in the wind and Emon couldn’t hear them.
“What did you say?” he asked, closing the distance between them.
“I’m leaving you, Emon!” she said fiercely, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. “I’m leaving you!” And with that, she shoved past him towards the palace’s back door, the shawl fluttering out behind her.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ Genesis 010. OMFG! Scandal! =0
Emon knelt down and rested his weight on his sword, breathing heavily. He watched as the cut on his shirt began to stain with red, the seventh cut of the week. He’d lost; he hadn’t gained a place in the King’s Own. Even when he’d first been approached by the Own’s General, he hadn’t expected to get in, and as the week progressed and his shirt gained more and more marks from his opponents’ swords, his outlook grew steadily less and less optimistic.
He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as his victor patted him on the back.
“You’ll get another chance,” Rumal told him reassuringly, but Emon doubted that he would.
And what would he tell Kerana? She’d been egging him on since he first got into First Company last year, telling him every day that this was the day he’d get noticed by the General, this was the day he’d join the Own. Now that his chance had finally arrived, he’d lost it. How could he possibly tell her he’d lost?
A sharp pain on his cheek made him jump out of his meandering thoughts, and he looked up to see the scowling, tear-streaked face of his girlfriend.
“You promised me!” Kerana screeched, so loudly that Emon cringed back from the ridiculously high decibels, and noticed a few in the dispersing crowd doing the same.
He struggled to his feet, still trying to catch his breath after the intense fight. “I know, Kerana. I’ll get another chance, I will.”
The petite woman planted another slap on his face, mirroring the first. “You promised, Emon! Do you know how much I had been counting on you to win this time?”
Emon hissed in through his teeth and rubbed at the new mark on his face. Somehow, these seemed to sting more than the cut on his chest that Rumal had given him. He took in a deep breath, not willing to argue right now, and went to pick up his sword sheath.
“Don’t you turn your back to me!” Kerana screeched again.
“I’m picking up my scabbard,” Emon explained patiently as he bent down, then clipped the leather sheath onto his belt and shoved his plain, regulation army sword back into it. Maybe another chance would come. There was still a chance. He frowned briefly when something occurred to him.
“How did you get in, anyway?” he asked. “Only people who work at the palace are allowed inside the grounds, even for an event like this.”
Kerana’s intense glare dropped to the cobbles, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She was hiding something.
She whispered something quietly, but her words were caught in the wind and Emon couldn’t hear them.
“What did you say?” he asked, closing the distance between them.
“I’m leaving you, Emon!” she said fiercely, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. “I’m leaving you!” And with that, she shoved past him towards the palace’s back door, the shawl fluttering out behind her.