Location: Anvard | [Open to All]
Aravis and Cor had quarrelled again. This was not a particularly unusual occurrence. They argued every other day and fought almost as often. The most recent disagreement had occurred following a lesson in swordsmanship. The lesson had been for Cor’s benefit - he had a lot of work to do to catch up on everything he hadn’t a chance to learn while growing up - but Aravis had been curious enough to come and watch.
She could use a curved blade well enough, but had little experience of the straight blades favoured by the Narnians and Archenlanders. That did not stop her from offering him some advice on how to hold the hilt after his tutor had departed. Cor, his nerves already frayed from a morning of difficult history and politics lessons, had snapped at her, declaring that he didn’t need that sort of advice from a girl. She’d threatened to duel him then and there. Only the timely arrival of King Lune had separated them before the argument escalated.
Currently, Aravis stood on the top of the battlements with her arms folded across her chest, gazing towards the distant plains of the desert. She didn’t regret her decision to leave Calormen for a moment. She didn’t even regret meeting Cor on her journey. She was more content in Archenland than she had ever been in Calavar, but there were times when the prince drove her to distraction.
He’d come to apologise soon. When he did, she would apologise for not being kinder to him. (She knew how hard he was working and how much pressure had been heaped on his shoulders, after all. If he hadn’t been exhausted and uncharacteristically irritable, he’d never have addressed her in such a way.) But she would not apologise first.
She could use a curved blade well enough, but had little experience of the straight blades favoured by the Narnians and Archenlanders. That did not stop her from offering him some advice on how to hold the hilt after his tutor had departed. Cor, his nerves already frayed from a morning of difficult history and politics lessons, had snapped at her, declaring that he didn’t need that sort of advice from a girl. She’d threatened to duel him then and there. Only the timely arrival of King Lune had separated them before the argument escalated.
Currently, Aravis stood on the top of the battlements with her arms folded across her chest, gazing towards the distant plains of the desert. She didn’t regret her decision to leave Calormen for a moment. She didn’t even regret meeting Cor on her journey. She was more content in Archenland than she had ever been in Calavar, but there were times when the prince drove her to distraction.
He’d come to apologise soon. When he did, she would apologise for not being kinder to him. (She knew how hard he was working and how much pressure had been heaped on his shoulders, after all. If he hadn’t been exhausted and uncharacteristically irritable, he’d never have addressed her in such a way.) But she would not apologise first.