08-22-2015, 01:53 PM
“You’ll be paired up with Trevor here.”
Gasps from the fresh-blood soldiers escaped as the commanding officer continued, “Yeah, his other sparing partner is in the hospital,” Because he put them there, “But I think a strong Prime like you can handle it.” The Captain didn’t give a pittance that she was a girl, but he condemned her prime status as the mass of soldiers moved out of the way to reveal a brutal looking secondary. Her foe.
Trevor. Tall stature, lithe frame, and eyes that seeped with cunning intent. She sized him up. “Alright,” Caira said. Her gaze fell on the man she would soon tackle and whole heartedly fight against.
“Grab your swords men. And, girl.” Lunch gave her a lasting look, his expression, more than condemning. They counted her out before she could take a breath.
“Wait.. We’re fighting with real swords?” The monk questioned in disbelief. This was her first day of training and she didn’t want to be responsible for cutting off someone’s arm, permanently. List’s face flashed in her mind. He was strong, but he was also a high ranking officer, WITH armor she reminded herself. He had also been banished in her place.
“Oh jeez, is the Prime complaining already?” Someone sneered.
“Now, let’s have a clean spar Prime, no funny business.” Her training officer said casting a glance, No powers.
Caira went over to a small wooden cart, stacked high with rusted swords. The girl picked the only one clean of rust before returning to her sparing partner. After extending an unintimidated hand to promote a shake, as was customary, at least where she was raised.
The lifted hand was left hanging empty. Her gesture, unreciprocated.
Suddenly she sensed the speed of his muscles tense together and with ease his hand flew before her eyes, into her line of sight. The worn leather hilt of the blade, she grasped in her palm and it instantly fell to the ground. Before she could even respond with a startled blink, her opponent had clasped the second sword in his hand. She was left swordless and perhaps had underestimated Trevor.
The disarmed Caira was not only shocked at his potent disregard for the shameless stealing of her weapon, but left aghast at his insurmountable speed. She could learn a few things from this Secondary.
Her eyes fell on the sword she had chosen with a strange curiosity as he held it's helm in his hand. What did expect her to do now?
“Summon your own, Prime.” Trevor said, as if answering her question before revealing a disparaging smile.
‘Trevor,’ now wielding two blades to her zero, smiled sadistically and before she could blink, cuts lined her arms and slithered through the ripples of her cloth attire before leaking silver from her broken skin.
Of course, now the noise in the camp had hushed into a small lull as everyone who was dueling their opponent had stopped to watch the match intently. Even the training captain had paused to watch the unknown Prime battle his best soldier. Little did the hopeful new recruit know, this was a fight she was fated to lose.
The sleeves fell from her shoulders and hung at her wrists in a heavy clump, revealing ribbons of silver blood pooling on her arms.
“Something wrong, Prime? You didn’t think you were better than us just because Omni picked you to come here, did you?” Trevor antagonized.
For the first time, Caira took his words literally. The thought had never really occurred to her that she was better than any of the men in the camp and now, she could see the reason behind their very active resentment. They were all in this base because they were beginning anew, serving the kingdom, among other things. Trevor didn’t seem very interested in her response as he made another chip at a lock of her dark hair and it fluttered to the ground.
Caira stayed silent as she observed his enjoyment; he was toying with her, thus her shredded hair. “Aren’t you going to fight back?” He asked impatiently and waved around her sword like a trophy. The men around her sniggered, meanwhile someone watched from the corner of her eye. Distinguished, yet hardly visible unless she wanted to pull her eyes away to catch a glimpse, only to face more blood.
She was crippled and her strategy had gone to bits. The situation was humiliating and his blade had sliced just past her ear, she felt the gust of air a mere second after. He was just too fast.
She knew the game well enough, after her fencing duel with List, but now, a fear swelled and grew within her chest and froze her with terror. Utter trepidation shook every inch of her to the very core. He couldn’t kill her, that wasn’t part of the training. But what if he had wanted to? She could do nothing. It would be an accident, like some horrible, vile joke. She couldn’t take a swing, nor surmise a strike. Caira was held hostage in her own cage of fear as the final blow fell on her right thigh and blood began to creep upon the fabric of her clothing and dribble in a striped line down her leg.
A deep cut, one that stung with accuracy. This was swordsmanship. And her disgraced head bobbed in a silent nod of defeat as it weighed heavy on her slouching shoulders.
“Record time. That’s five.” Trevor slung the two sabers over his shoulder where both landed in a single sheathe, he had made the other one his prize.
How could she let it be taken from her. Not the victory, not even the sword, but her pride. The freshly cut shame dwelled in her thoughts for the rest of the night as her comrades now looked down on her, spoke in low murmurs in the dining hall, all with their gazes pointed sharply at her. Trevor had used her own fear of death against her. An expert strategy of tact, fact, and triumph. And perhaps most importantly, he had won.
“She didn’t even move an inch! Hah! What a joke!” One said through a mouthful of bread.
Another agreed, “Only weak Prime I’ve ever seen!”
“It don’ put them all to shame though, there’s those two bounty hunters that caught that one guy.”
“Man, don’t even get me started on that one.”
“Sometimes the skill level jus’ don’t compare to expectations.”
“Come now, give the girl a break, she tried her best, and she was against Trevor.”
Eyes flicked in her direction, matching her as their target. “Whatsamatter honey? Want to come over here and give up? I’m sure the captain won’t mind if you shine his shoes for him! You can be an 'honorary' soldier of Camelot, princess." One taunted until she decided sitting on the bench in the corner of the room simply wasn’t enough. She stood taller, easier for everyone to see, the object of their bitter ridicule before she dumped an entire table sideways. Chairs screeched. Forks clattered to their plates in disbelief. The mood was set in the room as the atmosphere only grew sticky with disgust. She was sure – had anyone decided to sit at her table – this gesture would not have been as well received by the shocked room.
Gasps from the fresh-blood soldiers escaped as the commanding officer continued, “Yeah, his other sparing partner is in the hospital,” Because he put them there, “But I think a strong Prime like you can handle it.” The Captain didn’t give a pittance that she was a girl, but he condemned her prime status as the mass of soldiers moved out of the way to reveal a brutal looking secondary. Her foe.
Trevor. Tall stature, lithe frame, and eyes that seeped with cunning intent. She sized him up. “Alright,” Caira said. Her gaze fell on the man she would soon tackle and whole heartedly fight against.
“Grab your swords men. And, girl.” Lunch gave her a lasting look, his expression, more than condemning. They counted her out before she could take a breath.
“Wait.. We’re fighting with real swords?” The monk questioned in disbelief. This was her first day of training and she didn’t want to be responsible for cutting off someone’s arm, permanently. List’s face flashed in her mind. He was strong, but he was also a high ranking officer, WITH armor she reminded herself. He had also been banished in her place.
“Oh jeez, is the Prime complaining already?” Someone sneered.
“Now, let’s have a clean spar Prime, no funny business.” Her training officer said casting a glance, No powers.
Caira went over to a small wooden cart, stacked high with rusted swords. The girl picked the only one clean of rust before returning to her sparing partner. After extending an unintimidated hand to promote a shake, as was customary, at least where she was raised.
The lifted hand was left hanging empty. Her gesture, unreciprocated.
Suddenly she sensed the speed of his muscles tense together and with ease his hand flew before her eyes, into her line of sight. The worn leather hilt of the blade, she grasped in her palm and it instantly fell to the ground. Before she could even respond with a startled blink, her opponent had clasped the second sword in his hand. She was left swordless and perhaps had underestimated Trevor.
The disarmed Caira was not only shocked at his potent disregard for the shameless stealing of her weapon, but left aghast at his insurmountable speed. She could learn a few things from this Secondary.
Her eyes fell on the sword she had chosen with a strange curiosity as he held it's helm in his hand. What did expect her to do now?
“Summon your own, Prime.” Trevor said, as if answering her question before revealing a disparaging smile.
‘Trevor,’ now wielding two blades to her zero, smiled sadistically and before she could blink, cuts lined her arms and slithered through the ripples of her cloth attire before leaking silver from her broken skin.
Of course, now the noise in the camp had hushed into a small lull as everyone who was dueling their opponent had stopped to watch the match intently. Even the training captain had paused to watch the unknown Prime battle his best soldier. Little did the hopeful new recruit know, this was a fight she was fated to lose.
The sleeves fell from her shoulders and hung at her wrists in a heavy clump, revealing ribbons of silver blood pooling on her arms.
“Something wrong, Prime? You didn’t think you were better than us just because Omni picked you to come here, did you?” Trevor antagonized.
For the first time, Caira took his words literally. The thought had never really occurred to her that she was better than any of the men in the camp and now, she could see the reason behind their very active resentment. They were all in this base because they were beginning anew, serving the kingdom, among other things. Trevor didn’t seem very interested in her response as he made another chip at a lock of her dark hair and it fluttered to the ground.
Caira stayed silent as she observed his enjoyment; he was toying with her, thus her shredded hair. “Aren’t you going to fight back?” He asked impatiently and waved around her sword like a trophy. The men around her sniggered, meanwhile someone watched from the corner of her eye. Distinguished, yet hardly visible unless she wanted to pull her eyes away to catch a glimpse, only to face more blood.
She was crippled and her strategy had gone to bits. The situation was humiliating and his blade had sliced just past her ear, she felt the gust of air a mere second after. He was just too fast.
She knew the game well enough, after her fencing duel with List, but now, a fear swelled and grew within her chest and froze her with terror. Utter trepidation shook every inch of her to the very core. He couldn’t kill her, that wasn’t part of the training. But what if he had wanted to? She could do nothing. It would be an accident, like some horrible, vile joke. She couldn’t take a swing, nor surmise a strike. Caira was held hostage in her own cage of fear as the final blow fell on her right thigh and blood began to creep upon the fabric of her clothing and dribble in a striped line down her leg.
A deep cut, one that stung with accuracy. This was swordsmanship. And her disgraced head bobbed in a silent nod of defeat as it weighed heavy on her slouching shoulders.
“Record time. That’s five.” Trevor slung the two sabers over his shoulder where both landed in a single sheathe, he had made the other one his prize.
How could she let it be taken from her. Not the victory, not even the sword, but her pride. The freshly cut shame dwelled in her thoughts for the rest of the night as her comrades now looked down on her, spoke in low murmurs in the dining hall, all with their gazes pointed sharply at her. Trevor had used her own fear of death against her. An expert strategy of tact, fact, and triumph. And perhaps most importantly, he had won.
“She didn’t even move an inch! Hah! What a joke!” One said through a mouthful of bread.
Another agreed, “Only weak Prime I’ve ever seen!”
“It don’ put them all to shame though, there’s those two bounty hunters that caught that one guy.”
“Man, don’t even get me started on that one.”
“Sometimes the skill level jus’ don’t compare to expectations.”
“Come now, give the girl a break, she tried her best, and she was against Trevor.”
Eyes flicked in her direction, matching her as their target. “Whatsamatter honey? Want to come over here and give up? I’m sure the captain won’t mind if you shine his shoes for him! You can be an 'honorary' soldier of Camelot, princess." One taunted until she decided sitting on the bench in the corner of the room simply wasn’t enough. She stood taller, easier for everyone to see, the object of their bitter ridicule before she dumped an entire table sideways. Chairs screeched. Forks clattered to their plates in disbelief. The mood was set in the room as the atmosphere only grew sticky with disgust. She was sure – had anyone decided to sit at her table – this gesture would not have been as well received by the shocked room.
![[Image: mqdefault.jpg]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/yEac52Ck_1A/mqdefault.jpg)