It only hurts just once...
Who: Katsura (japansnewdawn), Ashura (heavens_schism
What: Broooding. And then stupid cute.
When: Late afternoon.
Where: On a hill. For dramatic effect.
Summary: After nearly a week in bed, Zura decides the logical thing to do is... go practice with his sword. Ashura, on the other hand, thinks the hill is for rolling down.
Rating: G for OMG, the Cute may KILL YOU.
He had to get out of the tent. There just wasn't any question about laying there any longer. He'd gotten his balance back, and his head injury was healing well, from what he could tell.
The ribs were taking longer, but he supposed that made sense, considering they'd been broken twice in as many weeks. That hadn't stopped him from dragging his borrowed sword out here to this small rise, in order to practice. He'd gotten rusty. Or, at the least, it felt that way. He'd wrapped his ribs as tightly as he could stand, and it would have to suffice for now.
Of course, by the time he'd gotten out to the hill, he was already out of breath. So maybe practice was out of the question. He hadn't decided, yet. For now, he was standing there thinking over the last few days as the wind rustled the forest's multicolored canopy in the distance, and whipped his hair around his face.
It was all very dramatic looking, he was sure.
What: Broooding. And then stupid cute.
When: Late afternoon.
Where: On a hill. For dramatic effect.
Summary: After nearly a week in bed, Zura decides the logical thing to do is... go practice with his sword. Ashura, on the other hand, thinks the hill is for rolling down.
Rating: G for OMG, the Cute may KILL YOU.
He had to get out of the tent. There just wasn't any question about laying there any longer. He'd gotten his balance back, and his head injury was healing well, from what he could tell.
The ribs were taking longer, but he supposed that made sense, considering they'd been broken twice in as many weeks. That hadn't stopped him from dragging his borrowed sword out here to this small rise, in order to practice. He'd gotten rusty. Or, at the least, it felt that way. He'd wrapped his ribs as tightly as he could stand, and it would have to suffice for now.
Of course, by the time he'd gotten out to the hill, he was already out of breath. So maybe practice was out of the question. He hadn't decided, yet. For now, he was standing there thinking over the last few days as the wind rustled the forest's multicolored canopy in the distance, and whipped his hair around his face.
It was all very dramatic looking, he was sure.