(no subject)
Who: seveteensir, erythrophilia, noprevaricating
What: A duel.
When: July 1st, sundown
Where: Luceti forest
Summary: The time is set, the terms agreed upon, the arrangements made. Now all that's left is the bloodshed.
Rating: R for violence, just to be safe.
The sun had disappeared behind the trees all around, the sky stained brilliant reds and pinks that slowly gave way to a deep blue. The soft rippling of water as it fed from the stream into the lake might have encouraged another man to be at peace.
Horatio Hornblower looked out over the water, silent as he waited. Too many things had been said this last week that now words refused to come.
What could he say? That he knew he was going to die here? That he knew he'd fail? That he'd only prove himself a coward, and this time in front of Archie?
He'd tried to talk the man out of coming with him, but he'd known he would not succeed there. And he had not.
So he stood by the water's edge, long fingers curling about then releasing the hilt of the sword at his hip. His pistol waited not far from it. Their presence-- the weight on him-- was something of a reassurance. Even if he knew there was nothing that could be done to reassure him.
The boy in him-- who had played at being a marooned sailor and carried out mock duels with imaginary friends and read every romanticized account of everything he could get his hands on-- approved of the scenery at least.
What: A duel.
When: July 1st, sundown
Where: Luceti forest
Summary: The time is set, the terms agreed upon, the arrangements made. Now all that's left is the bloodshed.
Rating: R for violence, just to be safe.
The sun had disappeared behind the trees all around, the sky stained brilliant reds and pinks that slowly gave way to a deep blue. The soft rippling of water as it fed from the stream into the lake might have encouraged another man to be at peace.
Horatio Hornblower looked out over the water, silent as he waited. Too many things had been said this last week that now words refused to come.
What could he say? That he knew he was going to die here? That he knew he'd fail? That he'd only prove himself a coward, and this time in front of Archie?
He'd tried to talk the man out of coming with him, but he'd known he would not succeed there. And he had not.
So he stood by the water's edge, long fingers curling about then releasing the hilt of the sword at his hip. His pistol waited not far from it. Their presence-- the weight on him-- was something of a reassurance. Even if he knew there was nothing that could be done to reassure him.
The boy in him-- who had played at being a marooned sailor and carried out mock duels with imaginary friends and read every romanticized account of everything he could get his hands on-- approved of the scenery at least.