no comm; knightly behavior
❧ knightly behavior
▶ 642 words, PG-13
notes: oh my god i'm just writing random shit from my old nanowrimo ideas from last year ENJOY THIS MAKING NO SENSE I GUESS
“Eris, look, I got these just for you.” A myriad of flowers blooms from his hands, and it takes her a second to remember that she is a human and he is nothing more than a created spirit contracted for the purpose of this tournament-nothing more. She shouldn’t be blushing at this.
Her nod is slow and stiff, awkward as she takes the flowers from his hands without letting her skin brush against his. “Thank you, Kneht. That was very kind of you.”
He smiles sweetly, eyes crinkled at the corners, and kneels down to kiss her hand. “Anything for my lady.”
She remembers this moment very clearly, because she wishes that this was all that there was to her contracted knight.
It’s after the second challenge that she notices something wrong.
The fight is long over and the path back home is already opened. When she turns around to look for her knight, she hears the popping of joints first and sees his face covered in blood second.
A mangled corpse rests at his feet while his hand is wrapped around the wrist of it. He pulls, he’s pulling, she can tell, she can practically hear the skin and flesh begin to tear from the sheer strain of it all. His face is dark and hard to make out underneath the blood, but the sudden white she sees makes her shudder in her spot. That’s not a smile on his face, not an expression of pleasure he’s wearing-it can’t be, it can’t be.
“Kneht,” she calls out, pretending that this isn’t wrong, that there isn’t something terribly wrong here. “What are you doing? Let’s go home now.”
His smile is still sweet on his face, and she’s sure she hears the corpse’s wrist snapping under the pressure. “Are you sure? I’ve yet to eliminate all the obstacles in your way.”
She laughs, short and nervous, because maybe he’s just playing a joke. Yeah, maybe that’s all it is. “What are you talking about silly? We already won. Let’s just go home.”
He drops the wrist, the limb landing with an awkward thud, and makes his way over to Eris so that he may take her hand in his as any good knight should.
“Of course, Eris. Let us return now.”
She tries not to think about the smell coming from him.
Summer. She hates summer. The droning of insects drives her mad while heat oppresses her like a tyrannical ruler. The hum of air cooling systems working never satisfies her, and she longs for the end of summer so that fall might come once again.
But that’s not what she’s feeling right now. The hum of insects only serves to further exacerbate what would be a horrible, horrible silence.
Doja is here, but not laughing and making crude remarks as she usually does-no, it’s Doja, lying face flat in a pool of her own blood with a sword stabbed through her lower back that Eris recognizes all too well. Kneht stands not two paces away from them, smiling kindly all the while.
This isn’t even Imaginary Space. This is against the rules.
It’s hot, too hot; the blood on her dress is still warm from the kill.
“Eris,” he says, laughs as he steps forward, not minding at all that Doja’s bones are being broken from the weight of his armored feet. “You look so lovely, soaked in the blood of your enemies.”
Kneht smiles, smiles and smiles and not once has that smile left his face in all the time she’s seen him, but now she sees. It’s his eyes, they don’t see her at all. They see something else, hazed over with madness as he gently takes her hand into his once again.
She can’t even swallow the urge to scream.
“Shall we continue, my lady?”
▶ 642 words, PG-13
notes: oh my god i'm just writing random shit from my old nanowrimo ideas from last year ENJOY THIS MAKING NO SENSE I GUESS
“Eris, look, I got these just for you.” A myriad of flowers blooms from his hands, and it takes her a second to remember that she is a human and he is nothing more than a created spirit contracted for the purpose of this tournament-nothing more. She shouldn’t be blushing at this.
Her nod is slow and stiff, awkward as she takes the flowers from his hands without letting her skin brush against his. “Thank you, Kneht. That was very kind of you.”
He smiles sweetly, eyes crinkled at the corners, and kneels down to kiss her hand. “Anything for my lady.”
She remembers this moment very clearly, because she wishes that this was all that there was to her contracted knight.
It’s after the second challenge that she notices something wrong.
The fight is long over and the path back home is already opened. When she turns around to look for her knight, she hears the popping of joints first and sees his face covered in blood second.
A mangled corpse rests at his feet while his hand is wrapped around the wrist of it. He pulls, he’s pulling, she can tell, she can practically hear the skin and flesh begin to tear from the sheer strain of it all. His face is dark and hard to make out underneath the blood, but the sudden white she sees makes her shudder in her spot. That’s not a smile on his face, not an expression of pleasure he’s wearing-it can’t be, it can’t be.
“Kneht,” she calls out, pretending that this isn’t wrong, that there isn’t something terribly wrong here. “What are you doing? Let’s go home now.”
His smile is still sweet on his face, and she’s sure she hears the corpse’s wrist snapping under the pressure. “Are you sure? I’ve yet to eliminate all the obstacles in your way.”
She laughs, short and nervous, because maybe he’s just playing a joke. Yeah, maybe that’s all it is. “What are you talking about silly? We already won. Let’s just go home.”
He drops the wrist, the limb landing with an awkward thud, and makes his way over to Eris so that he may take her hand in his as any good knight should.
“Of course, Eris. Let us return now.”
She tries not to think about the smell coming from him.
Summer. She hates summer. The droning of insects drives her mad while heat oppresses her like a tyrannical ruler. The hum of air cooling systems working never satisfies her, and she longs for the end of summer so that fall might come once again.
But that’s not what she’s feeling right now. The hum of insects only serves to further exacerbate what would be a horrible, horrible silence.
Doja is here, but not laughing and making crude remarks as she usually does-no, it’s Doja, lying face flat in a pool of her own blood with a sword stabbed through her lower back that Eris recognizes all too well. Kneht stands not two paces away from them, smiling kindly all the while.
This isn’t even Imaginary Space. This is against the rules.
It’s hot, too hot; the blood on her dress is still warm from the kill.
“Eris,” he says, laughs as he steps forward, not minding at all that Doja’s bones are being broken from the weight of his armored feet. “You look so lovely, soaked in the blood of your enemies.”
Kneht smiles, smiles and smiles and not once has that smile left his face in all the time she’s seen him, but now she sees. It’s his eyes, they don’t see her at all. They see something else, hazed over with madness as he gently takes her hand into his once again.
She can’t even swallow the urge to scream.
“Shall we continue, my lady?”