Backlog: Gift.
As he sat in the plush suede armchair, he looked at the wall opposite.
Hanging there was a staff. Carved wood, carefully painted, with long hairs from the tail of a cow bound to one end.
"My brother - what you have given me and what I have given you - it is not even between us."
He remembered its weight in his hands, what it had meant when it was given.
"I can offer you an equal rank to mine, as long as I live - as long as I can count you as my brother."
The car bomb had meant much more, in the end.
Now no-one but one he knew was worthy could call him brother.
[Muse: Garthe Knight]
[Fandom: Knight Rider]
[Word Count: 119]
Hanging there was a staff. Carved wood, carefully painted, with long hairs from the tail of a cow bound to one end.
"My brother - what you have given me and what I have given you - it is not even between us."
He remembered its weight in his hands, what it had meant when it was given.
"I can offer you an equal rank to mine, as long as I live - as long as I can count you as my brother."
The car bomb had meant much more, in the end.
Now no-one but one he knew was worthy could call him brother.
[Muse: Garthe Knight]
[Fandom: Knight Rider]
[Word Count: 119]