The Trenz family
"NO!!!" the woman screamed, "I won't allow it! You'll get yourself killed!!"
"But mother-,"
"NO! And that's final!" she interrupted her son.
"Just because father was a soldier and got killed-" the oldest attempted.
"I said NO!" she yelled once more, "Don't argue with me!"
"Mother, you can't protect us all our lives," the oldest son pointed out.
"None of my sons will be fighters! It's not safe!" she glowered, "They'll all have quiet jobs, like accountants or tax collectors."
"Like that's really safe," The middle son drawled.
"You stay out of this, Miki!" The mother glared.
"Mother, please, not the nickname, you know I-" he squawked.
"Miki, shush!" she glared, and this time, it was enough to force him to send his brown eyes to the ground, so that his black bangs covered his face.
"Mama," the youngest stood, his blue eyes wide, and just barely visible between his dangling black bangs, "What's so bad about soldiers?"
"They get themselves killed, Ryo, honey," the mother crouched down, subtly needling her two older sons through the youngest's question, "And make their mommas and wives worry and be real sad."
"Mother," the oldest's amber eyes flashed, and he ran his hands through his hair, the only common trait he and his brothers had, "It's not like that. I just want to learn to defend myself. If I can't fight back, I'll really get killed!"
"You're leaving home," his mother stood, glaring, "And a perfectly nice girl, to learn to fight. You'll forget your home, and get yourself killed! I won't allow it! You will not go! And you, Miki, get those dreams of being a knight out of your head. The knighthood is even worse. They get themselves killed not only in battle, and on command, but at the capricious command of that bucket of lard, Sir Poratev!!"
"Mother!" her middle son spluttered, "he's not that bad, he's just old!"
"That's even worse!" she yelled, "He's forgotten what battle is, so he just arbitrarily sends his men out, not thinking of their true skills! Or the dangers!"
The argument escalated, and the oldest son quietly and unobtrusively snuck out the door. The only clue as to his departure was when the clip- clop of horse's hooves sounded nearby, moving away at a brisk trot.
"Alen!" she ran to the window, slammed it open, and screamed out, "Get back here!"
"NO!!!" the woman screamed, "I won't allow it! You'll get yourself killed!!"
"But mother-,"
"NO! And that's final!" she interrupted her son.
"Just because father was a soldier and got killed-" the oldest attempted.
"I said NO!" she yelled once more, "Don't argue with me!"
"Mother, you can't protect us all our lives," the oldest son pointed out.
"None of my sons will be fighters! It's not safe!" she glowered, "They'll all have quiet jobs, like accountants or tax collectors."
"Like that's really safe," The middle son drawled.
"You stay out of this, Miki!" The mother glared.
"Mother, please, not the nickname, you know I-" he squawked.
"Miki, shush!" she glared, and this time, it was enough to force him to send his brown eyes to the ground, so that his black bangs covered his face.
"Mama," the youngest stood, his blue eyes wide, and just barely visible between his dangling black bangs, "What's so bad about soldiers?"
"They get themselves killed, Ryo, honey," the mother crouched down, subtly needling her two older sons through the youngest's question, "And make their mommas and wives worry and be real sad."
"Mother," the oldest's amber eyes flashed, and he ran his hands through his hair, the only common trait he and his brothers had, "It's not like that. I just want to learn to defend myself. If I can't fight back, I'll really get killed!"
"You're leaving home," his mother stood, glaring, "And a perfectly nice girl, to learn to fight. You'll forget your home, and get yourself killed! I won't allow it! You will not go! And you, Miki, get those dreams of being a knight out of your head. The knighthood is even worse. They get themselves killed not only in battle, and on command, but at the capricious command of that bucket of lard, Sir Poratev!!"
"Mother!" her middle son spluttered, "he's not that bad, he's just old!"
"That's even worse!" she yelled, "He's forgotten what battle is, so he just arbitrarily sends his men out, not thinking of their true skills! Or the dangers!"
The argument escalated, and the oldest son quietly and unobtrusively snuck out the door. The only clue as to his departure was when the clip- clop of horse's hooves sounded nearby, moving away at a brisk trot.
"Alen!" she ran to the window, slammed it open, and screamed out, "Get back here!"