Timestamp: 34th of Fall, 508 AV
The steel hand-and-a-half sword hung heavy across Eselle’s back. Reaching down towards the horizon, Syna slowly faded in the brisk fall evening. The young Konti gripped the practice sword in her alabaster hand. The weighted wood was only a ghost of the heft of her real blade, but it was still heavy in her inexperienced palm.
Alaia had promised to meet her after dinner to practice. Normally the suvai was Eselle’s weapon of choice but she had heard a story since childhood that made her take a chance. Her mother had told her of the brave adventures of an Akalak warrior. He had used a great sword to bring down Zith and slavers. Since she had grown to near adulthood, Eselle knew it was all a fantasy but she still couldn’t avoid her desire to wield a sword. She hadn’t even dared touch the greatsword, it was so large it might have tipped her over just lifting it. The long sword from hilt to tip nearly reached her armpit. Finally she had decided the bastard sword was as big as she could reasonably wield. The smith had agreed with a chuckle behind her hand.
Maybe it was humorous, Eselle looked again at the wooden practice sword. Her confidence waned with the tide. She pushed over a pile of white sand while she waited. The waiting turned into a few steps and then pacing. Her worries gnawing at her choice.
She was nearly ready to run back to the smithy and ask to exchange her purchase when she looked up from her self-pity and realized she was no longer alone. The distraction killed the line of thought and her grip tightened around the hilt. Her pale pearly lips fell into a smile.
She playfully brought up the practice sword, “Good Evening.”
The steel hand-and-a-half sword hung heavy across Eselle’s back. Reaching down towards the horizon, Syna slowly faded in the brisk fall evening. The young Konti gripped the practice sword in her alabaster hand. The weighted wood was only a ghost of the heft of her real blade, but it was still heavy in her inexperienced palm.
Alaia had promised to meet her after dinner to practice. Normally the suvai was Eselle’s weapon of choice but she had heard a story since childhood that made her take a chance. Her mother had told her of the brave adventures of an Akalak warrior. He had used a great sword to bring down Zith and slavers. Since she had grown to near adulthood, Eselle knew it was all a fantasy but she still couldn’t avoid her desire to wield a sword. She hadn’t even dared touch the greatsword, it was so large it might have tipped her over just lifting it. The long sword from hilt to tip nearly reached her armpit. Finally she had decided the bastard sword was as big as she could reasonably wield. The smith had agreed with a chuckle behind her hand.
Maybe it was humorous, Eselle looked again at the wooden practice sword. Her confidence waned with the tide. She pushed over a pile of white sand while she waited. The waiting turned into a few steps and then pacing. Her worries gnawing at her choice.
She was nearly ready to run back to the smithy and ask to exchange her purchase when she looked up from her self-pity and realized she was no longer alone. The distraction killed the line of thought and her grip tightened around the hilt. Her pale pearly lips fell into a smile.
She playfully brought up the practice sword, “Good Evening.”
