(no subject)
Blame carnifex_atrox
Characters: Isa, Lea, Braig.
Summary: Isa and Lea are the local troublemakers. Braig has his own way of dealing with them.
Blue hair, blue eyes on the taller one. Red hair, greeny blue eyes on the shorter. Both with badly spiked up hair.
Yup, that sounded about right, and Braig grinned as the two skulked around the perimeter, probably looking for a way in, again.
He knew their names, but mentally he'd labelled them Cool Guy and The Dork. Cool Guy was the blue haired one, name of Isa, who reacted to having their plans foiled with stoic dignity, even when that involved being literally tossed out on his ear. The Dork was the one with the frisbees, and who Braig suspected was the one who came up with the ideas, after which Cool Guy cam up with the plan for how to make the idea happen.
They were an interesting double act.
They'd got even more interesting on the day, in the chill of the first snow, that they'd lobbed tightly packed snowballs over into the castle grounds. The kiddywink had come rushing in, wide eyed and silent as always, straight to Aeleus, who'd brushed the snow out of his hair, and taken him to go and put some dry clothes on. Even had come in a minute later, counting his brand new glasses amongst the casualties. Braig hadn't seen him that irate since he'd left three day old pizza crusts in Even's bed, and encouraged tiny tot to eat crumbly biscuits over the library books.
Dilan had picked them up by the scruff of the neck not so long ago and physically carried them out of the grounds. Since then, it had been all out war.
Last week, they'd hit Braig with a water bomb.
This week it was payback time.
The shot severed a tree branch just in front of where the two were lurking, which was sufficient to make them jump. Braig grinned as they stood up, Cool Guy first, folding his arms, with his red haired shadow standing up just behind him.
“We are not trespassing on castle property,” he said, even, matter-of-fact, and apparently confident that Braig cared.
“Don't have to be,” Braig replied, resting one gun back on his shoulder and still wearing that grin. It was a grin that was made all the more effective due to his missing eye, and huge scar. At least it had made him look badass. “Two suspicious characters, creeping around. That's enough reason right there for me to shoot you both.”
“Awww, come on, old man,” cried The Dork, “we're just having fun.”
“Fun?” Braig replied, his grin growing wider and that bit more dangerous. “Heh, I guess so. You're still kids. You don't know what real fun is yet.”
“Care to enlighten us?” Cool Guy managed to sound excessively sceptical, staring at Braig unafraid.
“Sure,” he said, “come here.”
“I think not.”
“Isa, don't be such a killjoy.”
“He's armed, Lea.”
“Scared, kiddies? I don't bite.”
It wasn't an argument that seemed to convince Isa, and Braig sighed dramatically. “What kind of guy do you think I am that I'd shoot a couple of weedy kids like you?”
It was The Dork that moved first, stepping over the felled branch. His friend called his name, but was ignored, and then, when Lea was halfway to Braig, followed after him.
“Close enough,” Braig said, when they were a few short but significant yards away. “See, you're not shot yet.”
“Yet,” repeated Isa, looking at Braig levelly. Braig just grinned at him.
“The problem you've got is that I know what your idea of fun is,” Braig started, as if he was doing little more than scolding them. “Kid's stuff, like waterbombs, and snowballs, but sometimes you pick on the wrong people.” Isa re-folded his arms, letting his weight sink on one hip. He seemed content to hear Braig out, and didn't seem to be on his guard. The other one hadn't been on his guard to start with, and already his attention was starting to wander.
Good.
“Chuck them at the white coats all you like for all I care. That's not my problem. Chucking them at me, on the other hand...” He tailed off, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That means I have to teach you a lesson.”
He fired, letting the shot ring out, deafeningly, and the bullet hit the floor bare inches from the redhead's feet. It was enough to shock them both out of their teenage stupor, the one where they aren't really listening to a word you're saying.
“Which means it's time for you to dance.”
The way their feet hopped as the bullets rang off the stone near them, always an inch or two away, never less, and never quite more, would keep Braig laughing the rest of the day. It was precious, the way they'd jumped at first, taking panicked steps back, and then had turned and run, full pelt, with the bullets chasing them down the stones until they were out of safe accuracy range, and even then Braig kept shooting until they were truly out of sight.
His only regret, two weeks later, when the grounds came under attack from enough stink bombs to make the gardens fester for the rest of the day, was that he hadn't actually shot them both in the feet.
Next time, maybe.
Characters: Isa, Lea, Braig.
Summary: Isa and Lea are the local troublemakers. Braig has his own way of dealing with them.
Blue hair, blue eyes on the taller one. Red hair, greeny blue eyes on the shorter. Both with badly spiked up hair.
Yup, that sounded about right, and Braig grinned as the two skulked around the perimeter, probably looking for a way in, again.
He knew their names, but mentally he'd labelled them Cool Guy and The Dork. Cool Guy was the blue haired one, name of Isa, who reacted to having their plans foiled with stoic dignity, even when that involved being literally tossed out on his ear. The Dork was the one with the frisbees, and who Braig suspected was the one who came up with the ideas, after which Cool Guy cam up with the plan for how to make the idea happen.
They were an interesting double act.
They'd got even more interesting on the day, in the chill of the first snow, that they'd lobbed tightly packed snowballs over into the castle grounds. The kiddywink had come rushing in, wide eyed and silent as always, straight to Aeleus, who'd brushed the snow out of his hair, and taken him to go and put some dry clothes on. Even had come in a minute later, counting his brand new glasses amongst the casualties. Braig hadn't seen him that irate since he'd left three day old pizza crusts in Even's bed, and encouraged tiny tot to eat crumbly biscuits over the library books.
Dilan had picked them up by the scruff of the neck not so long ago and physically carried them out of the grounds. Since then, it had been all out war.
Last week, they'd hit Braig with a water bomb.
This week it was payback time.
The shot severed a tree branch just in front of where the two were lurking, which was sufficient to make them jump. Braig grinned as they stood up, Cool Guy first, folding his arms, with his red haired shadow standing up just behind him.
“We are not trespassing on castle property,” he said, even, matter-of-fact, and apparently confident that Braig cared.
“Don't have to be,” Braig replied, resting one gun back on his shoulder and still wearing that grin. It was a grin that was made all the more effective due to his missing eye, and huge scar. At least it had made him look badass. “Two suspicious characters, creeping around. That's enough reason right there for me to shoot you both.”
“Awww, come on, old man,” cried The Dork, “we're just having fun.”
“Fun?” Braig replied, his grin growing wider and that bit more dangerous. “Heh, I guess so. You're still kids. You don't know what real fun is yet.”
“Care to enlighten us?” Cool Guy managed to sound excessively sceptical, staring at Braig unafraid.
“Sure,” he said, “come here.”
“I think not.”
“Isa, don't be such a killjoy.”
“He's armed, Lea.”
“Scared, kiddies? I don't bite.”
It wasn't an argument that seemed to convince Isa, and Braig sighed dramatically. “What kind of guy do you think I am that I'd shoot a couple of weedy kids like you?”
It was The Dork that moved first, stepping over the felled branch. His friend called his name, but was ignored, and then, when Lea was halfway to Braig, followed after him.
“Close enough,” Braig said, when they were a few short but significant yards away. “See, you're not shot yet.”
“Yet,” repeated Isa, looking at Braig levelly. Braig just grinned at him.
“The problem you've got is that I know what your idea of fun is,” Braig started, as if he was doing little more than scolding them. “Kid's stuff, like waterbombs, and snowballs, but sometimes you pick on the wrong people.” Isa re-folded his arms, letting his weight sink on one hip. He seemed content to hear Braig out, and didn't seem to be on his guard. The other one hadn't been on his guard to start with, and already his attention was starting to wander.
Good.
“Chuck them at the white coats all you like for all I care. That's not my problem. Chucking them at me, on the other hand...” He tailed off, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That means I have to teach you a lesson.”
He fired, letting the shot ring out, deafeningly, and the bullet hit the floor bare inches from the redhead's feet. It was enough to shock them both out of their teenage stupor, the one where they aren't really listening to a word you're saying.
“Which means it's time for you to dance.”
The way their feet hopped as the bullets rang off the stone near them, always an inch or two away, never less, and never quite more, would keep Braig laughing the rest of the day. It was precious, the way they'd jumped at first, taking panicked steps back, and then had turned and run, full pelt, with the bullets chasing them down the stones until they were out of safe accuracy range, and even then Braig kept shooting until they were truly out of sight.
His only regret, two weeks later, when the grounds came under attack from enough stink bombs to make the gardens fester for the rest of the day, was that he hadn't actually shot them both in the feet.
Next time, maybe.