Fluff for Sly
Pistachio #20. Practice with SPRINKLES
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1250
Sly told me we've all been to angsty and demanded some fluff, and ordered a little Dalton to go with it. Sorry if this isn't all that great, it's very late.
Dalton let his legs hang over the wall, idly kicking at the empty air. When he was younger he’d always figured his feet would eventually reach the ground, but he now resigned himself to the reality that the gap was not to be bridged.
The field the low wall surrounded played host to the girls and their morning lessons. Under the supervision of the headmistress herself, a mere handful took to one another with wooden swords. Blows were carefully aimed and artfully dodged or parried, though, often enough, there was the slap of wood on leather as a weapon found its mark. All the combatants showed remarkable skill for their years, and any of the matches would have been more than entertaining, but Dalton came to see only one.
Aside from the rough leather of her training gear, Ilya wore white from head to toe, down to the ribbons in her hair. She always did, as if her Goddess needed any further sign of her allegiance. Her opponant wore black. Dalton was sure he’d seen her before. He’d have to ask Ilya for a name. The girl was nearly a foot taller and had at least fifty pounds on Ilya, but her size gave her little advantage. Ilya took two short swings to her every forceful one, though neither managed to penetrate the other’s defences.
The two carried on for some time, lunging and retreating, training swords slicing the air, crashing together with a sharp clack, only to be recovered and swung again, as the pairs around them did the same. Ilya’s features split into a grin. Laughter fell from both her lips and her partner’s, as the tide of battle turned first one way and then the other.
Everyone had been astonished when Ilya’s name came up among those who would receive special instruction. Not Dalton, he’d known for years that the dainty blonde everyone found so sweet and gentle hid something fierce beneath the surface. He could think of nothing he loved more about her than that hidden spirit. What did surprise him was that any of her teachers had seen through her quiet façade and found it as well.
Ilya caught his eyes on her and flashed him a smile from across the field. He lifted a hand from the wall to give her a wave. Her partner said something and shook her head and both girls laughed again. Only the slightest traces of the sound carried to his perch, but there was no mistaking them.
Headmistress Kinari passed by the pair, and a stern look settled on her face. With the same look soon aimed his way, Dalton quickly swung his legs back over the wall and hopped to the ground on the far side. He wandered back to the palace, stooping more than once to gather the white blossoms that littered the grass, to wait for the end of the session.
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1250
Sly told me we've all been to angsty and demanded some fluff, and ordered a little Dalton to go with it. Sorry if this isn't all that great, it's very late.
Dalton let his legs hang over the wall, idly kicking at the empty air. When he was younger he’d always figured his feet would eventually reach the ground, but he now resigned himself to the reality that the gap was not to be bridged.
The field the low wall surrounded played host to the girls and their morning lessons. Under the supervision of the headmistress herself, a mere handful took to one another with wooden swords. Blows were carefully aimed and artfully dodged or parried, though, often enough, there was the slap of wood on leather as a weapon found its mark. All the combatants showed remarkable skill for their years, and any of the matches would have been more than entertaining, but Dalton came to see only one.
Aside from the rough leather of her training gear, Ilya wore white from head to toe, down to the ribbons in her hair. She always did, as if her Goddess needed any further sign of her allegiance. Her opponant wore black. Dalton was sure he’d seen her before. He’d have to ask Ilya for a name. The girl was nearly a foot taller and had at least fifty pounds on Ilya, but her size gave her little advantage. Ilya took two short swings to her every forceful one, though neither managed to penetrate the other’s defences.
The two carried on for some time, lunging and retreating, training swords slicing the air, crashing together with a sharp clack, only to be recovered and swung again, as the pairs around them did the same. Ilya’s features split into a grin. Laughter fell from both her lips and her partner’s, as the tide of battle turned first one way and then the other.
Everyone had been astonished when Ilya’s name came up among those who would receive special instruction. Not Dalton, he’d known for years that the dainty blonde everyone found so sweet and gentle hid something fierce beneath the surface. He could think of nothing he loved more about her than that hidden spirit. What did surprise him was that any of her teachers had seen through her quiet façade and found it as well.
Ilya caught his eyes on her and flashed him a smile from across the field. He lifted a hand from the wall to give her a wave. Her partner said something and shook her head and both girls laughed again. Only the slightest traces of the sound carried to his perch, but there was no mistaking them.
Headmistress Kinari passed by the pair, and a stern look settled on her face. With the same look soon aimed his way, Dalton quickly swung his legs back over the wall and hopped to the ground on the far side. He wandered back to the palace, stooping more than once to gather the white blossoms that littered the grass, to wait for the end of the session.