AN/ Heh, nothing much to say here. This is the next chapter promised at
the end of the latest update of Dark Paradox *Another Shameless Plug* Come
on guys, you know you're interested at what crazy drivel Gabe can spew out
when she gets her hands on Dilandau, right? *^_^* Talk to ya later. Peace.
Chapter Seven - Nap
The light was hurting his eyes. It was orange, too bright, and burned in his vision no matter how tightly he squeezed his lids closed. Folken tried to turn his body to escape the blazing glow, but something held him in place, a weight, on his chest. Without moving his head, Folken slitted his eyes open and glanced down. The top of a head, pale hair, soft line of a tan cheek. . . Then everything came flooding back. They must have fallen asleep beneath the tree, and somehow shifted positions, until they ended up like this.
Folken lay on his back on the cool grass, with Estrela atop his chest, her head nestled into the hollow of his neck. One of her hands was splayed across his collarbone, the other twisted through the mop of his thick, teal hair. His arms encircled her back and waist tightly, as if even in sleep he had worried about her falling, and their legs were in a hopeless tangle, which Folken could not even attempt to undo without waking his companion.
Well, I have to wake her eventually, don't I? Folken thought. Why? Came a tempting voice from the back of his mind, Aren't you comfortable? That was the problem, he was too comfortable. Estrela's soft warmth and gentle breathing. . . I have to wake her, the sooner the better. . .
It was at this moment that Estrela shifted in her sleep, her hand on the prince's collar sliding up his neck, her lips brushing against his Adam's apple. He froze. Gods have mercy. . .
Folken couldn't move. All thoughts of waking her flew out of his mind, and it was all the boy could do to stop from trembling. Squeezing watering eyes tightly shut, a low groan escaped the prince's throat, further disturbing his occupant, causing her hand to travel farther up his neck, and her hip to brush against his. . . Oh Gods. . .
"Estrela. . ." He managed to croak out, "Estrela wake up. . ." The woman muttered something in the same language he had heard her use in the market, and moved to shift again, but Folken felt her body go rigid before she began. A pale head rose slowly, and polished ebony met garnet as she gaped at the prince. Then, realization seemed to dawn, and Estrela scrambled backwards, off Folken's chest, landing hard on her backside in the process.
Both young people sat and stared at one another for a few tense moments, neither moving or meeting the other's gaze, but both breathing rather unsteadily. Finally, the near choking silence was broken,
"Estrela, I. . ." And at the same moment,
"Folken, please. . ." Both people stopped abruptly, eyes dropping once more, and the stillness returned. A few more uneasy minutes, then,
"My father is gonna skin me alive," A wave of confusion coursed through Estrela's mind and she raised her eyes to the prince, snow white brows furrowed.
"What? Why?"
"We were s'posed to be back at the palace at four glass pas' midday, it must be at least three glass pas' that already," Folken seemed very flustered, this was the first time his well-bred, princely pronunciations had slipped, the slight slur of native Fanelian speech entering his tone. He quickly scrambled to his feet, gathering their cloaks and packages from where they lay beside the large tree. Then he looked down at Estrela, who had not moved from her seat on the grass, and, after a slight hesitation, offered her his hand.
Estrela raised her eyes to meet the prince's. Is he blushing? No, it must be the light. She clasped her hand with his. A swift pull and she was on her feet, however, Folken had misjudged her weight, drawing her up with slightly more force than necessary, and causing her to stumble, her face stopping less than a feather's breath from his.
He is blushing, What a ridiculous thought to enter her mind at this moment, with Folken's warm breath washing across her cheek, the tips of their noses almost touching, but it was all Estrela's mind could focus on, the rest of her conception was completely muddled. Her mind, her body, neither operating. . . Why wasn't she moving? Folken seemed in the same state, staring bewilderedly into her dark eyes. Then, moments, moons, even colours later, neither one could tell, Estrela blinked, dropping her eyes and taking the obligatory step backwards to retrieve the items Folken had left on the ground.
The prince himself tried his best to avoid looking at his companion as she knelt to recover her daggers, glasses, and the smaller, candy filled package. Every time he would glance at her he felt her warmth again, her soft weight on his body. . . Gods, he felt the heat rise in his cheeks once again as it grew in the pit of his stomach. What was happening to him?
Estrela stood, replacing the blades behind her back and up her sleeves and her glasses on her face. She tried not to look at the prince, seeing his dark wine eyes and silky teal hair caused a fluttering in her chest and a twisting warmth in her abdomen. There was something definitely strange about this feeling. What was happening to her?
Estrela shook her head slightly, this was confusing.
Turning to the prince, Estrela extended a hand to take some of his burden. She dropped it swiftly as he visibly flinched, and looked away from him, adjusting her glasses to cover her anguish.
Wonderful, a voice in Folken's head began, You've hurt her feelings you big oaf. . . Folken took a step forward, Might as well chance it, you can't make this any worse. . .dolt. . .
Estrela froze as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She looked up to see Folken, an apologetic smile on his face, and a hopeful glint in his eyes. It took her a moment, but Estrela managed to give a soft smile of her own in return, and a small squeeze of his hand on her shoulder.
"Come on," She said suddenly, feeling the ache in her chest begin to heal "We have to get back," Then, a smirk. Estrela pulled away from the prince's grasp, snatching her cloak as well. The devilish grin still playing on her features, "Come on," She said again, "I'll race you," and she was gone.
Folken stood for a spilt second more, watching a snow white braid disappear around the gate of the park before he was off, out of the park, through the streets, just following the rope of glistening alabaster as it whipped through crowds and around buildings.
The gate guard froze in the middle of a good scratch, squinting to see the figures approaching at top speed. The first, looked like a woman, but wearing breeches, was dashing towards the gates, stealing glances over her shoulder at her pursuer. The white braid whipping behind her identified her as the mysterious guest supposedly staying at the palace, if rumors were true. Her pursuer, noticeably slower than his prey, looked to be none other than crown prince Folken. Well, wasn't this interesting. The guard didn't know what to do, whether to detain the woman when she came close enough, or to open the gate for a royal guest. In the end, he had no choice in the matter.
Estrela, seeing the gates closed before her, made a decision. Up and over. Slowing ever so slightly, and grasping her cloak and package in her teeth, Estrela ignored the cry of the guard as she jumped forward, grasping the thick iron bars and pulling herself upwards. Up and over, up and over, The top of the gate, studded with long iron spikes. Estrela let go with one hand and vaulted herself over the menacing obstacle, catching the gate again on the other side. She took a moment to hang there, taking her burden from her mouth into her free hand and gazing back the way she'd come at the still figure of Folken, who must have stopped to watch as she'd climbed the gate.
"Come on slowpoke!" She cried, still hanging from the iron bars, "I've seen crippled land dragons move faster than you!" Her taunts seemed to work, Folken began running again, faster than before. The guard rushed forward to open the gates for the prince, but Folken shouted at him to halt. The prince hit the bars with more force than Estrela had, knocking the wind out of himself momentarily, but began to climb immediately, making the top almost as fast as she had. The spikes proved slightly more difficult, as the vault over almost caused him to fall, but he made it, hanging beside Estrela on the other side. She turned to congratulate him, but Folken had already dropped to the ground below and took off toward the inner doors.
"We're not done yet!" He cried over his shoulder, "To my Father's study!" Estrela dropped, racing after the prince as he made the huge doors, lurching them open with one mighty tug an disappearing inside. She crossed the threshold less than half a moment after Folken, briefly blinded by the transition of sunlight to dim hall. Then she saw him, almost knocking over a servant carrying bedding and towels as he raced down the corridor, and followed in suite. They managed to avoid hitting any of the castle staff as they ran, though just barely in some cases, and finally made it to the great door just as Estrela had caught up to the prince. Folken bent over, hands on his knees, breathing coming in short huffs. Estrela leaned on the wall beside him, running a hand through her bangs and removing her glasses from her face with one motion.
"Gods girl," Folken panted as he finally straightened, "You're fast," Estrela smiled over at the prince, her breath only coming slightly faster than usual,
"You're out of shape," She said simply, her grin growing as he glared over at her, his face still red and flushed. "Alright," She continued before he had the chance to say anything, "You're Father's waiting," At this the prince visibly blanched and shifted his gaze to the large door.
Standing up straighter, Folken took a step toward the door, first reaching toward the latch, then stopping midway to raise his fist slightly and knock. After a tense moment, the knob slowly began to turn and the portal creaked open to reveal. . . a servant?
"Ah, my prince," The old man said in a kindly voice. He was genuinely tiny, his balding, spotted head only coming to the middle of Estrela's chest. Despite is apparent age, which Estrela could not even begin to guess, the most ancient Elder in her village wasn't this wrinkled, the man was not stooped or frail, and his light grey eyes were filled with unexpected vigor. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return." Folken began to speak, but the man continued as if the prince had never interrupted, "You're father asked me to wait here until you came, he was not feeling his best this evening, and has retired early. However, you mother wished for me to send you to her when you arrived. She said she would wait in her gardens. It sounded quite important." Folken kept his gaze on the small man for a moment longer, as if expecting more, then turned to Estrela, who had stood from her slump and seemed to be very intent on the servant, keeping her onyx eyes locked on his narrow frame. The prince cleared his throat, and Estrela blinked suddenly and looked up at him.
"I have to go, do you want to-"
"The queen was very specific that only you come, my prince," The old servant broke in, drawing a quick glance from Folken as the prince's brows knitted together in a look of concern. Turning back to Estrela, the distress and confusion was clear in Folken's face.
"I have to go, I'll be back as soon as I can," He leant forward, placing the other packages into her arms, and then, seemingly without thinking, brushed his lips across her cheek in the slightest breath of a kiss. When he pulled away, the blush was evident on his features as he realized what he had done, but the concern quickly returned, and Folken disappeared down the hallway without another word.
Estrela stared after him, a hand raised to her cheek, a look of pure astonishment on her face. Brought out of the trance like state by a subtle cough, Estrela transferred her gaze from the shadowed hall before her to the small man now standing to her right. He gave her a warm smile, kindly, much like her own grandfather when he had been alive,
"And how may I help you my lady?" Esterla thought for a moment, that run had wound her up, and she hadn't had any proper exercise in three days. She needed to let off some steam.
"Can you wait here for one moment?" She asked,
"Of course, my lady, I am at you're disposal," With that, Estrela started off toward her rooms. She needed to drop off these packages, and change if she was going to train. She only had one good shirt and she'd be damned if she'd ruin it to save time. Finally to her quarters, Estrela slipped inside, dropping the parcels onto the freshly made bed, retrieving her sword and pack from the armoire. Setting the blade and the bag on the bed as well, Estrela began to rummage through the sack, reaching deep inside until she felt what she was looking for. Two neatly folded pieces of clothing, both once white as virgin snow, now slightly faded to the colour of old eggshells.
Moving her bag out of the way, Esterla laid the clothes on the dark quilts, and than proceeded to pull her own deep violet shirt over her head, tucking it gently back into her pack before unfolding one of the dull white items. A thin cotton shirt, sleeveless, and slightly loose as she pulled it on. The neckline was perfect, not high enough to impair her movements, but not low enough to be uncomfortable. The other article, loosely fitted cotton pants, she left on the bed. There was no need to change the black breeches she was wearing now, and she was getting quite restless. She stole a glace at herself in the vanity mirror, the training outfit had been a gift from her master after a year of his instruction, and she loved how it looked, with it's simple lines and razor straight seams. She needed to re-braid her hair, which she did as quickly as possible, tying the end with a leather thong instead of her usual ribbon, and pushed her bangs away from her face. Attaching her sword back at her hip, Estrela reveled in the familiar weight, checking that it sat securely, but moved freely in its scabbard. Before leaving, Estrela looked into the mirror again, crossing her arms and feeling her back lightly with the tips of her fingers. She traced the ridges and deep valleys of scar tissue as she always felt the need to do while wearing this shirt, and was once again relieved to find that it properly covered the marks.
There were certain memories that were better left buried.
Estrela repressed a shudder and dropped her arms, moving swiftly into the hallway and back to where the old servant waited. He had stayed standing in the corridor, despite his age and the room full of comfortable chairs behind him. He looked up as she approached, and did not flinch away from her bizarre eyes. It was. . .comforting.
"Can you show me where I could train with this?" She asked him, motioning to the sword at her hip. The man did not seemed startled at the thought of a woman in sword combat, which Estrela added to her list of reasons she liked this man. He simply turned down the hallway, moving with far more speed than she would have given him credit for and said over his shoulder,
"Follow me please, my lady"
Before Estrela knew it she was before a large, half open screen, the dimly lit room within seemingly empty. The old man did not enter, but shuffled to the side to allow Estrela to look inside. Closer inspection proved that it was, in fact, hardly empty at all, with every wall of the large room coved with weapons of various sorts, ranging from wooden practice swords, to wickedly sharp blades of every type. Estrela had never seen this may weapons in one place before. Another small cough brought her attention back to the old man, who was still standing unmoving beside her.
"Is this satisfactory my lady?" He asked
"Yes, thank you very much,"
"Then if there is nothing else, I will leave you. I have much to do and waiting for the prince has put me behind in my schedule," He finished with a small bow and at her nod, turned to leave. Then a thought hit Estrela,
"Wait," She cried suddenly. The old man turned and regarded her dutifully, "What is you're name?" It was the first time Estrela had seen the man startled, but he recovered quickly and responded,
"Fogo, my lady," That just cinched it. Estrela fixed the man with an odd stare, then said
"Bem, eu agradeço_o, Senhor Fogo" Well, I thank you, Mister Fogo
Now he looked truly astounded, but managed a reply,
"Você é bem_vindo, senhora" You are welcome, lady Then he blinked, bowed again, and scurried off down the hallway. Estrela knew that the old language, her language, was not spoken many places anymore, and she wondered where this Fogo could be from. Apparently, it was his native tongue as well, as his accent, though more subtle than her own, and name suggested. She would have to speak with Senhor Fogo again.
However, now it was time to train.
Removing her boots and striding inside the room, Estrela drew her sword and scabbard both from her belt, then slid the blade free of its sheath. The scabbard was placed on a low bench, and Estrela moved to the center of the great room. After a few basic stretches, she began slowly moving her blade though the air, gaining speed as she continued, until finally it became a beautiful, deadly dance.
Completely lost in the feel of the blade, the sound of her own heartbeat and her master's voice in her ears, Estrela did not sense the new presence entering the room. Spinning on the ball of her foot, Estrela brought her sword in a upward arch, a whistling blur of razor-sharp steel. Then, time froze, the lethal point just touching flesh.
AN/ So? What do you think? Come on guys, I need a bit of encouragement. Please? Hmmm. . . I won't give you a date for next chapter update, but I do have a huge English project due very soon, so it might be a while. . . I'll try though *^_^* Ta
Chapter Seven - Nap
The light was hurting his eyes. It was orange, too bright, and burned in his vision no matter how tightly he squeezed his lids closed. Folken tried to turn his body to escape the blazing glow, but something held him in place, a weight, on his chest. Without moving his head, Folken slitted his eyes open and glanced down. The top of a head, pale hair, soft line of a tan cheek. . . Then everything came flooding back. They must have fallen asleep beneath the tree, and somehow shifted positions, until they ended up like this.
Folken lay on his back on the cool grass, with Estrela atop his chest, her head nestled into the hollow of his neck. One of her hands was splayed across his collarbone, the other twisted through the mop of his thick, teal hair. His arms encircled her back and waist tightly, as if even in sleep he had worried about her falling, and their legs were in a hopeless tangle, which Folken could not even attempt to undo without waking his companion.
Well, I have to wake her eventually, don't I? Folken thought. Why? Came a tempting voice from the back of his mind, Aren't you comfortable? That was the problem, he was too comfortable. Estrela's soft warmth and gentle breathing. . . I have to wake her, the sooner the better. . .
It was at this moment that Estrela shifted in her sleep, her hand on the prince's collar sliding up his neck, her lips brushing against his Adam's apple. He froze. Gods have mercy. . .
Folken couldn't move. All thoughts of waking her flew out of his mind, and it was all the boy could do to stop from trembling. Squeezing watering eyes tightly shut, a low groan escaped the prince's throat, further disturbing his occupant, causing her hand to travel farther up his neck, and her hip to brush against his. . . Oh Gods. . .
"Estrela. . ." He managed to croak out, "Estrela wake up. . ." The woman muttered something in the same language he had heard her use in the market, and moved to shift again, but Folken felt her body go rigid before she began. A pale head rose slowly, and polished ebony met garnet as she gaped at the prince. Then, realization seemed to dawn, and Estrela scrambled backwards, off Folken's chest, landing hard on her backside in the process.
Both young people sat and stared at one another for a few tense moments, neither moving or meeting the other's gaze, but both breathing rather unsteadily. Finally, the near choking silence was broken,
"Estrela, I. . ." And at the same moment,
"Folken, please. . ." Both people stopped abruptly, eyes dropping once more, and the stillness returned. A few more uneasy minutes, then,
"My father is gonna skin me alive," A wave of confusion coursed through Estrela's mind and she raised her eyes to the prince, snow white brows furrowed.
"What? Why?"
"We were s'posed to be back at the palace at four glass pas' midday, it must be at least three glass pas' that already," Folken seemed very flustered, this was the first time his well-bred, princely pronunciations had slipped, the slight slur of native Fanelian speech entering his tone. He quickly scrambled to his feet, gathering their cloaks and packages from where they lay beside the large tree. Then he looked down at Estrela, who had not moved from her seat on the grass, and, after a slight hesitation, offered her his hand.
Estrela raised her eyes to meet the prince's. Is he blushing? No, it must be the light. She clasped her hand with his. A swift pull and she was on her feet, however, Folken had misjudged her weight, drawing her up with slightly more force than necessary, and causing her to stumble, her face stopping less than a feather's breath from his.
He is blushing, What a ridiculous thought to enter her mind at this moment, with Folken's warm breath washing across her cheek, the tips of their noses almost touching, but it was all Estrela's mind could focus on, the rest of her conception was completely muddled. Her mind, her body, neither operating. . . Why wasn't she moving? Folken seemed in the same state, staring bewilderedly into her dark eyes. Then, moments, moons, even colours later, neither one could tell, Estrela blinked, dropping her eyes and taking the obligatory step backwards to retrieve the items Folken had left on the ground.
The prince himself tried his best to avoid looking at his companion as she knelt to recover her daggers, glasses, and the smaller, candy filled package. Every time he would glance at her he felt her warmth again, her soft weight on his body. . . Gods, he felt the heat rise in his cheeks once again as it grew in the pit of his stomach. What was happening to him?
Estrela stood, replacing the blades behind her back and up her sleeves and her glasses on her face. She tried not to look at the prince, seeing his dark wine eyes and silky teal hair caused a fluttering in her chest and a twisting warmth in her abdomen. There was something definitely strange about this feeling. What was happening to her?
Estrela shook her head slightly, this was confusing.
Turning to the prince, Estrela extended a hand to take some of his burden. She dropped it swiftly as he visibly flinched, and looked away from him, adjusting her glasses to cover her anguish.
Wonderful, a voice in Folken's head began, You've hurt her feelings you big oaf. . . Folken took a step forward, Might as well chance it, you can't make this any worse. . .dolt. . .
Estrela froze as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She looked up to see Folken, an apologetic smile on his face, and a hopeful glint in his eyes. It took her a moment, but Estrela managed to give a soft smile of her own in return, and a small squeeze of his hand on her shoulder.
"Come on," She said suddenly, feeling the ache in her chest begin to heal "We have to get back," Then, a smirk. Estrela pulled away from the prince's grasp, snatching her cloak as well. The devilish grin still playing on her features, "Come on," She said again, "I'll race you," and she was gone.
Folken stood for a spilt second more, watching a snow white braid disappear around the gate of the park before he was off, out of the park, through the streets, just following the rope of glistening alabaster as it whipped through crowds and around buildings.
The gate guard froze in the middle of a good scratch, squinting to see the figures approaching at top speed. The first, looked like a woman, but wearing breeches, was dashing towards the gates, stealing glances over her shoulder at her pursuer. The white braid whipping behind her identified her as the mysterious guest supposedly staying at the palace, if rumors were true. Her pursuer, noticeably slower than his prey, looked to be none other than crown prince Folken. Well, wasn't this interesting. The guard didn't know what to do, whether to detain the woman when she came close enough, or to open the gate for a royal guest. In the end, he had no choice in the matter.
Estrela, seeing the gates closed before her, made a decision. Up and over. Slowing ever so slightly, and grasping her cloak and package in her teeth, Estrela ignored the cry of the guard as she jumped forward, grasping the thick iron bars and pulling herself upwards. Up and over, up and over, The top of the gate, studded with long iron spikes. Estrela let go with one hand and vaulted herself over the menacing obstacle, catching the gate again on the other side. She took a moment to hang there, taking her burden from her mouth into her free hand and gazing back the way she'd come at the still figure of Folken, who must have stopped to watch as she'd climbed the gate.
"Come on slowpoke!" She cried, still hanging from the iron bars, "I've seen crippled land dragons move faster than you!" Her taunts seemed to work, Folken began running again, faster than before. The guard rushed forward to open the gates for the prince, but Folken shouted at him to halt. The prince hit the bars with more force than Estrela had, knocking the wind out of himself momentarily, but began to climb immediately, making the top almost as fast as she had. The spikes proved slightly more difficult, as the vault over almost caused him to fall, but he made it, hanging beside Estrela on the other side. She turned to congratulate him, but Folken had already dropped to the ground below and took off toward the inner doors.
"We're not done yet!" He cried over his shoulder, "To my Father's study!" Estrela dropped, racing after the prince as he made the huge doors, lurching them open with one mighty tug an disappearing inside. She crossed the threshold less than half a moment after Folken, briefly blinded by the transition of sunlight to dim hall. Then she saw him, almost knocking over a servant carrying bedding and towels as he raced down the corridor, and followed in suite. They managed to avoid hitting any of the castle staff as they ran, though just barely in some cases, and finally made it to the great door just as Estrela had caught up to the prince. Folken bent over, hands on his knees, breathing coming in short huffs. Estrela leaned on the wall beside him, running a hand through her bangs and removing her glasses from her face with one motion.
"Gods girl," Folken panted as he finally straightened, "You're fast," Estrela smiled over at the prince, her breath only coming slightly faster than usual,
"You're out of shape," She said simply, her grin growing as he glared over at her, his face still red and flushed. "Alright," She continued before he had the chance to say anything, "You're Father's waiting," At this the prince visibly blanched and shifted his gaze to the large door.
Standing up straighter, Folken took a step toward the door, first reaching toward the latch, then stopping midway to raise his fist slightly and knock. After a tense moment, the knob slowly began to turn and the portal creaked open to reveal. . . a servant?
"Ah, my prince," The old man said in a kindly voice. He was genuinely tiny, his balding, spotted head only coming to the middle of Estrela's chest. Despite is apparent age, which Estrela could not even begin to guess, the most ancient Elder in her village wasn't this wrinkled, the man was not stooped or frail, and his light grey eyes were filled with unexpected vigor. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return." Folken began to speak, but the man continued as if the prince had never interrupted, "You're father asked me to wait here until you came, he was not feeling his best this evening, and has retired early. However, you mother wished for me to send you to her when you arrived. She said she would wait in her gardens. It sounded quite important." Folken kept his gaze on the small man for a moment longer, as if expecting more, then turned to Estrela, who had stood from her slump and seemed to be very intent on the servant, keeping her onyx eyes locked on his narrow frame. The prince cleared his throat, and Estrela blinked suddenly and looked up at him.
"I have to go, do you want to-"
"The queen was very specific that only you come, my prince," The old servant broke in, drawing a quick glance from Folken as the prince's brows knitted together in a look of concern. Turning back to Estrela, the distress and confusion was clear in Folken's face.
"I have to go, I'll be back as soon as I can," He leant forward, placing the other packages into her arms, and then, seemingly without thinking, brushed his lips across her cheek in the slightest breath of a kiss. When he pulled away, the blush was evident on his features as he realized what he had done, but the concern quickly returned, and Folken disappeared down the hallway without another word.
Estrela stared after him, a hand raised to her cheek, a look of pure astonishment on her face. Brought out of the trance like state by a subtle cough, Estrela transferred her gaze from the shadowed hall before her to the small man now standing to her right. He gave her a warm smile, kindly, much like her own grandfather when he had been alive,
"And how may I help you my lady?" Esterla thought for a moment, that run had wound her up, and she hadn't had any proper exercise in three days. She needed to let off some steam.
"Can you wait here for one moment?" She asked,
"Of course, my lady, I am at you're disposal," With that, Estrela started off toward her rooms. She needed to drop off these packages, and change if she was going to train. She only had one good shirt and she'd be damned if she'd ruin it to save time. Finally to her quarters, Estrela slipped inside, dropping the parcels onto the freshly made bed, retrieving her sword and pack from the armoire. Setting the blade and the bag on the bed as well, Estrela began to rummage through the sack, reaching deep inside until she felt what she was looking for. Two neatly folded pieces of clothing, both once white as virgin snow, now slightly faded to the colour of old eggshells.
Moving her bag out of the way, Esterla laid the clothes on the dark quilts, and than proceeded to pull her own deep violet shirt over her head, tucking it gently back into her pack before unfolding one of the dull white items. A thin cotton shirt, sleeveless, and slightly loose as she pulled it on. The neckline was perfect, not high enough to impair her movements, but not low enough to be uncomfortable. The other article, loosely fitted cotton pants, she left on the bed. There was no need to change the black breeches she was wearing now, and she was getting quite restless. She stole a glace at herself in the vanity mirror, the training outfit had been a gift from her master after a year of his instruction, and she loved how it looked, with it's simple lines and razor straight seams. She needed to re-braid her hair, which she did as quickly as possible, tying the end with a leather thong instead of her usual ribbon, and pushed her bangs away from her face. Attaching her sword back at her hip, Estrela reveled in the familiar weight, checking that it sat securely, but moved freely in its scabbard. Before leaving, Estrela looked into the mirror again, crossing her arms and feeling her back lightly with the tips of her fingers. She traced the ridges and deep valleys of scar tissue as she always felt the need to do while wearing this shirt, and was once again relieved to find that it properly covered the marks.
There were certain memories that were better left buried.
Estrela repressed a shudder and dropped her arms, moving swiftly into the hallway and back to where the old servant waited. He had stayed standing in the corridor, despite his age and the room full of comfortable chairs behind him. He looked up as she approached, and did not flinch away from her bizarre eyes. It was. . .comforting.
"Can you show me where I could train with this?" She asked him, motioning to the sword at her hip. The man did not seemed startled at the thought of a woman in sword combat, which Estrela added to her list of reasons she liked this man. He simply turned down the hallway, moving with far more speed than she would have given him credit for and said over his shoulder,
"Follow me please, my lady"
Before Estrela knew it she was before a large, half open screen, the dimly lit room within seemingly empty. The old man did not enter, but shuffled to the side to allow Estrela to look inside. Closer inspection proved that it was, in fact, hardly empty at all, with every wall of the large room coved with weapons of various sorts, ranging from wooden practice swords, to wickedly sharp blades of every type. Estrela had never seen this may weapons in one place before. Another small cough brought her attention back to the old man, who was still standing unmoving beside her.
"Is this satisfactory my lady?" He asked
"Yes, thank you very much,"
"Then if there is nothing else, I will leave you. I have much to do and waiting for the prince has put me behind in my schedule," He finished with a small bow and at her nod, turned to leave. Then a thought hit Estrela,
"Wait," She cried suddenly. The old man turned and regarded her dutifully, "What is you're name?" It was the first time Estrela had seen the man startled, but he recovered quickly and responded,
"Fogo, my lady," That just cinched it. Estrela fixed the man with an odd stare, then said
"Bem, eu agradeço_o, Senhor Fogo" Well, I thank you, Mister Fogo
Now he looked truly astounded, but managed a reply,
"Você é bem_vindo, senhora" You are welcome, lady Then he blinked, bowed again, and scurried off down the hallway. Estrela knew that the old language, her language, was not spoken many places anymore, and she wondered where this Fogo could be from. Apparently, it was his native tongue as well, as his accent, though more subtle than her own, and name suggested. She would have to speak with Senhor Fogo again.
However, now it was time to train.
Removing her boots and striding inside the room, Estrela drew her sword and scabbard both from her belt, then slid the blade free of its sheath. The scabbard was placed on a low bench, and Estrela moved to the center of the great room. After a few basic stretches, she began slowly moving her blade though the air, gaining speed as she continued, until finally it became a beautiful, deadly dance.
Completely lost in the feel of the blade, the sound of her own heartbeat and her master's voice in her ears, Estrela did not sense the new presence entering the room. Spinning on the ball of her foot, Estrela brought her sword in a upward arch, a whistling blur of razor-sharp steel. Then, time froze, the lethal point just touching flesh.
AN/ So? What do you think? Come on guys, I need a bit of encouragement. Please? Hmmm. . . I won't give you a date for next chapter update, but I do have a huge English project due very soon, so it might be a while. . . I'll try though *^_^* Ta