Title: Swordplay
Word Count: 710
Rating: T
Characters: Pages, Wyldon
Summary: Merric likes his ear. It's a very pretty ear, he'll have you know, and it's not that big either, just the right size unlike Fal's monstrosities.
Disclaimer: Protector of the Small – not mine. Tamora Pierce's.
Notes: So um. Yeah. I knew that writing high would die off eventually. Anyway—I bring you crack which is admittedly not that funny. I apologize in advance for the OOC-ness; I did this one without referencing Page (which was stupid on my part, but it's short) so the characters are noticeably…high. Eh. I'll go all angsty next time to make up for it. Hope you somewhat enjoy~ =D
Swordplay
"Mindelan." The Stump's voice is rather strained. "Stay…away from the lances. Just…away."
Kel flushes a dull red, reaching beyond the stacked lances for a blunted practice sword.
The other pages want to snicker. Really, they do. It's just that there's absolutely nothing to laugh about, because they're practicing with swords right now instead of lances (and if they'd been using lances, then they would snicker to their little hearts' content) and it's become common knowledge that Kel of Mindelan is a freaking juggernaut when it comes to swords.
Well, no. Juggernaut might be putting it to an extreme, but most of them are sure it won't be long before The Girl becomes one.
A matter of time, you know. Because she'd been trained by the gods-defying Lioness after all.
"They're petrified." Neal is, predictably, gleeful despite nearly having his hand lopped off by a miss from Seaver. Kel sighs and Merric (though he will deny it with every fiber of his being) just wants to run. It's not fair, he wants to scream. Kel is a girl—the girl—and she is not supposed to be…good. With swords. Because swords are manly, and Merric is manly (even if Kel stands an inch taller than him).
"Neal," Kel says, placating and not at all amused, "please, just…watch where you swing that thing. It's not that blunt." Because Neal is flinging his practice sword all over the place and if he were any taller he'd probably scrape a cloud from the sky.
—Or something like that. Kel isn't one for pretty words.
"You know," puts in Faleron, "I think they're more scared of Kel when she's holding a lance. Because that was a very, very terrifying day."
Kel feels a scowl coming on and Merric whimpers. It's not her fault she can't hold a lance without managing to poke someone's eye out (it'd been a dog's, though Wyldon finally found a legitimate reason to hate her that day) just because the Lioness prefers swords to lances. Pointy, shiny things trumped pig sticks every time, she claims.
"I think," Neal says grandly, waving his sword in an arc, "that Kel is simply marvelous because Joren and his drones haven't said a thing since that day."
"They haven't said a thing since our first lesson with swords," Merric corrects, finally giving up when Kel nearly spears his ear. Wyldon is shouting about not having a spine but Merric likes his ear. It's a very pretty ear, he'll have you know, and it's not that big either, just the right size unlike Fal's monstrosities.
"Maybe," Kel says, flicking Neal's sword right out of his hand with a hearty glare, "we should actually practice. To become knights. Which is why we're here. In Corus. Learning."
Neal has a funny look on his face (he doesn't get shocked anymore by Kel's sword prowess; she sort of misses the wide-eyes and the gaping 'you-I-what the-Keeeellll' sounds he made). He grins, abruptly, and if Kel were a poet (which she takes great pride in not being) she would have said his eyes were practically dancing.
"You know," he starts, slinging an arm around a pouting Merric's shoulders, "imagine if our lovely Kel had gone with her family to the Isles."
The boys pause (Kel is sure Wyldon just had an aneurism, because he's coming over here awfully fast) and their faces shift from interested to confused to horrified.
"No," says Merric, shaking his head furiously. "No no no no no. Swords we can handle—swords are common. She'd be…waving around that giant stick of theirs. Just…no, Neal—and she'd be a statue! Like, all scary faced and stuff—not that your parents are like that," he adds, glancing at Kel quickly. She just smiles, turning away from the group to practice with Roald (good old Roald, thoughtful and quiet).
Oh, she's not mad. She's not.
It's just that Wyldon is horribly red in the face and he's screaming at the boys like they've somehow managed to kill a thousand dogs and horses in one go. Because those Cavall men, they get crazy about their dogs and horses. Simply crazy.
(And…she does get a sort of sick pleasure in beating the Crown Prince in swordplay. Alanna is probably laughing somewhere.)