Completed A Confusion of Arrows

[Khida]

Spring 4, 515 AV
morning

Zethar had said, 'come down tomorrow, and bring your bow along too'.

Almost certainly on purpose, he hadn't mentioned that all the rest of Endrykas would be doing the same.

People thronged around the Clan pavilions, men and women alike in their vividly colored clothes, energetic sign punctuating the enthusiasm of their discourse. The entire area seemed to hum with energy, with conversation, with anticipation. Many carried bows, perhaps as many as one in four -- shortbows mostly, but some longbows stuck up here and there. In that much, they were like Khida; but in the midst of all this activity, she felt suddenly unlike them in every other way.

She stalled there, studying the crowded chaos, the attraction of turning around and going back home growing with every chime. Someone collided with her shoulder, the Kelvic stumbling aside; she turned in time to catch the man's signed apology, and the visage of his profile as he continued on, giving no second thought to the accidental jostle or the woman he had collided with. Another man kept pace with him, their animated conversation barely even interrupted.

Adrift, Khida watched him mix back into the crowd; she didn't even know what was going on, and the buzz of conversation remained entirely opaque to her ears. She couldn't seem to pick out even a single comprehensible word -- nor hear the footsteps which came up behind her.

Are you competing?

Khida turned again to find a vaguely familiar woman regarding her, lean and blond and possessed of a bow of her own. She knew the woman from Hunter's Allegiance*Castin Starsparks. Her words failed to dent the Kelvic's current confusion; Khida's hands shaped a gesture not even she could have assigned meaning to. The woman, apparently, took it as affirmation. Go join that group, she directed, pointing off to one side. They need more people.

Abruptly, Khida found herself alone again, the woman gone into the milling crowd.

That group proved to be a small knot of people clumped near a row of targets. One man wearing a vivid green headband met Khida as she approached. Welcome, the man said, his signs polite and amiable. I am Rian, and I will be judging this group. Can I get your name please?

Clearly, he had some kind of official position here. Khida glanced at the others behind him -- a clump of mostly boys, jovial and loud, boasting and bragging and arguing with one another... over something about best or better or something that involved counting. A contest, then? Was all this a competition?

One of them was staring at her.

He held himself a little apart from the clump, as if his position were assured; he had no need to join in the posturing. There was a tightness to his expression, subtle but distinct, a suggestion of weighing or judging. Something that made Khida very reluctant to expose weakness here and now, in front of this boy. She chose to ask nothing of the moderator; she simply provided her name, then walked over to what seemed to be the waiting area, keeping an eye on the boys, on that boy, all the while. He had returned to ribbing his friends, or something, but she remained wary of him.

She supposed, now, she had implicitly agreed to do whatever the rest of them did for this... event. Shooting at the targets, presumably. So the Kelvic unslung her case and removed the bow from within, proceeding through the minor contortions required to string it. She had accumulated enough practice now to do so mostly smoothly, and to have no trouble ensuring the stave came out straight. She went on to study the targets, which... looked much like targets anywhere, at least.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Naiya]

Things had changed for the red-headed Drykas woman. Not only her home and her name, but her freedoms as well. Where before she had been filling the role of obedient daughter, or eligible woman, as was expected of her, she now had the option of not trying so hard to fulfill the expectations of others. Shahar, Khida, Hope, they did not care if she was sewing or riding or cooking, so long as she was safe and happy. She could explore the activities that she enjoyed once more.

What better way to do so than to join the archery contest, an event hosted by the elders for any who wished to attend. She was surely out of practice with her bow, she hadn't had opportunity to practice in what seemed like ages, but she didn't have to win. Participating, getting back into the use of her bow, that would be enough.

With her unstrung bow slipped into the quiver of arrows, and bow strings tucked into her pack with her archer glove and arm guard, she made her way towards the massive crowd of people that had come to participate or to watch as the other Drykas competed.

Excitement filled her as she scanned the crowd. People gathered in small groups or milled about in larger more organized bunches, others still hung back separate from the rest, like herself. Observing, or perhaps awaiting a friend or family member. Her own observation of the chaos led her to a woman who looked busy, pointing people in one direction or another before turning to solve someone else's problems once more. For all that she was obviously busy, she did not seem to be bothered, rather she looked pleased by the number of people or the prospect of helping was unclear, but happiness was clear in her movements.

"Excuse me," Naiya called to her over the clamor of the crowd, "I'm hoping to compete is there-" she didn't need to finish her inquiry, the woman cast her a quick assessing glance and pointed her off to the side with a smile.

"Over there, green headband they need a few more people."

Naiya nodded glad to have a place to go, for otherwise she might have wandered through the crowds just looking until the contest had come to a close.

She made her way through the mass, carefully moving between spectators, dodging shoulders and elbows when she could, or signing an apology when she couldn't. When the press of the crowd became less hazardous, she noticed a familiar face among the group she was assigned to.

Khida.

Her smile grew as she stepped closer, signing a greeting when she was close enough, though whether or not the other woman noticed was questionable her gaze roaming from the targets to the other participants in their group and back again. She made a stop by the man in the green headband, answering his questions and giving her name before moving to stand beside Khida, offering another greeting and indicating her surprise at finding her here.

[Merevaika]

The area was packed, Drykas and other mingling, practising, preparing. There was tall young men, elderly, children running amongst the crowds. There were young women like herself, and those older and younger. Many carried bows of all sorts, long and short, old and new. Merevaika herself carried two new possessions of her own: an arm guard, and an archer's glove. The two were tucked in a backpack slung over one arm, resting on a shoulder. Her bow and arrows sat in the opposite hand, ready to be used with the blink of an eye.

The young woman pushed through the crowd searching for someone official. There were those like herself who were walking alone, or with family and friends but groups of archers were gathered near the targets as if waiting to start. She needed to join them to be able to compete. People were being sent this way and that, and Merevaika needed to find who was sending them.

She settled into the flow of the crowd, knowing how to act in the chaos that consumed the area. Out slipped the knife and it slit open purses, letting coins dribble out. In the crowd no one noticed, yet her attempted pickpocketing failed, for with the hustle and bustle she had no time to retrieve the fallen money. Besides, she had come to compete, not to steal.

A lean blond woman spotted the lost archer, immediately pointing her in the direcrion of a group before checking that she needed help. "They need more. Join the man with the green headband." Merevaika gave a smile in gratitude, but had no time to say any more for she had once again become caught in the current of the crowd. Avoiding the few who seemed even more desperate to make their way, pushing and shoving others out their path, Merevaika twisted her way to the collection of archers.

Along with the man in the green headband, a group of young boys boasted and shouted behind him, and near them stood two young women, one a red head and the other familiar. Khida, that was her name.

The official there introduced himself as Rian before asking for Merevaika's own name. She gave it before examining the targets, which stood not too far from the group. There was no wind, so unless it picked up Merevaika had one less thing to worry about. Or so she hoped. At least the targets weren't moving.

She took a place next to the other two women, a little uncomfortable as she was alone and the others had some companion with them. Perhaps she should have taken her horse, but the idea had appeared silly, as there would be no one to keep him under control while she was shooting. At least back at the tent she didn't have to worry about him disturbing anything.

Merevaika hoped that it would begin soon.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Hope

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OOCI assume you pointing this thread out to me was enough permission for me to join, Khida? xD

Knowing Khida was competing in some sort of event was Hope’s only real motivation to leave the familiarity and security of her well-trodden routes between the Dawnwhisper Pavilion and where Dainellas was paddocked. Unless accompanied by another from her family, or one of the chance friends she had made in her time here, Hope rarely travelled around the moving tent city except if by necessity. Mostly she didn’t like being surrounded by crowds of people whom she had many difficulties understanding. Today was no different from that, in fact she was probably heading to one of the most densely populated areas of the city that day… but she would do so to watch her unusual friend.

It was the Archery Competition, something that may competed in and even more came to watch. But the time Hope arrived, the area was heaving, and much of the viewing area had already been filled. Staring ahead at the sea of dark heads in front of her, Hope was of half a mind to turn and disappear into the maze of tents behind her. She could spend the time with the yellow mare instead. After all, Khida didn’t know that she was coming to watch her. Yet Hope felt some form of.. obligation to be here, to watch the competition. Not that watching the sport itself held particular fascination for her, only that she had a vested interest in the success of Shahar’s bondmate… a woman who had gone to extreme lengths - and determined efforts - to see the return of Hope.

In hindsight, what amazed the foreign young woman was that Shahar and Khida had taken on Hope in the state that she had been in… they had never seen her as anything but the pathetic shell who appeared to be unmovable in her indifference towards the world, and even self-destructive apathy towards her own well-being. With a captive that they had bought, with no emotional ties they had fought to bring her back from her dissociation from the world. Hope owed them loyalty for that, and she gave it without any hesitation or resentment.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the crowd, and agilely wove her way through the larger bulkier forms of the Drykas men and women who had also come to spectate this competition. Her goal of getting to the front caused her to be careless and she stepped on another's toes, “"Oh, sorry... uh... sorry!" She mumbled out as she looked up into the face of a young Drykas man who barely even noticed her. She frowned, a confusing mixture of surprise and relief bubbling inside her when she realised that the man cared not for her stepping on his foot.

She paused in her efforts forward to look around Craning her head, she spotted the shape-shifter in a group with other archers, preparing their bows. She tried to move further forward, but the throng was now to tight, and she could see no easy way through without disturbing those around her… and that would only draw unwanted negative attention to her presence, which she would not allow to happen. No, she remained where she was and contented herself with raising herself onto tiptoes to watch.

.

[Khida]

oocSorry for the extended delay!

A familiar profile emerged from the crowd, caught by the very edge of Khida's vision. It took several ticks for her to quite register the new presence as another competitor -- and it wasn't until she turned that the hint of familiarity registered, coincident with her recognition of the new arrival. She signed greeting back at the Drykas, and made an indeterminate motion in response to her expression of surprise. It was shaded faintly with willing resignation, the sense of one going along.

Another less-familiar face followed, a woman with dark hair and light eyes whose visage associated in the Kelvic's mind with the memory of falling off a horse. It was a most vivid memory, as she'd only done so once. Khida offered greeting to this arrival as well, polite acknowledgment of their prior acquaintanceship.

The moderator in his green headband looked about while the women collected, scanning the people passing behind them. He seemed to conclude no more were coming, his hands shaping all complete and we begin with an air of satisfaction.

"What, that's it?" protested one of the gaggle of boys, evidencing a complete lack of tact as he cast a frown towards the three women. "Where's the rest of the competition?"

"It's only the first round, idjit," answered the youth with the bow. He studied Naiya and Merevaika just as intently as he had Khida, sizing up each of the competitors in turn. "After I beat them, I'll move up to the next group." He certainly didn't lack for confidence; the assurance in his manner faltered not one whit.

The moderator clapped his hands once to get their attention, then gestured towards the range before them. "Welcome, everyone! Let's get this started. There will be four trials in this round. The archer with the highest overall score will move on to the next round of competition. I wish you all luck and excellent shooting!"

He walked over to where a rope had been stretched across the earth, six targets set out in a row a short distance beyond it. "Please choose a target and take your places along this line. Do not step over the line while shooting, or you will be disqualified! For the first challenge, you will shoot three arrows into the target at a distance of ten strides. You will be scored on accuracy, so take your time and make each shot the very best!

"Zibri in a corral," said the youth to his compatriots, after the moderator had explained the first task. "Not even a hard challenge, you just watch." Indeed, while a mild breeze blew sidewise across the shooting range, it would do little to disturb shots made over that short distance.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

There was a time when Naiya would have risen to the young man's challenge, spouting her own boasts, taking his bait. That Naiya was seasons past, long gone. Instead with deliberate motions she slung her quiver off her back, pulling free her bow from its containment. She turned then to her pack, removing her arm guard and glove. The glove slid onto her left hand, the feeling strange after her long disuse of the gear. She flexed her hand, testing the pull of the leather against her knuckles.

She had gone far too long without use of her bow.

"It's only the first round, idjit," Another of the boys answered the challenging words of the first, turning to study Naiya, and the third woman who had arrived as well. "After I beat them, I'll move up to the next group." He was assured, confident, and Naiya disliked him greatly. Doing her best to forget the arrogance of the others, and forcing herself to be glad for his lack of pointed comments, she secured the bracer on her other arm.

The man in the green headband welcomed them, and explained the rules of the competition. Naiya sighed Good Luck to her companions, only slightly hindered by the pull of her glove, and then she followed the man to the rope, lining herself up in front of the target.

She reached to her pack again, drawing oilcloth wrapped bowstrings out, she removed one, rewrapped the others and replaced them among her belongings. The string in hand, she tucked the first loop into the nock at the bottom of the bow, tipping it to plant the base between her feet.

The strength it took then to string her bow was more than she expected, and while she was still able to do so, there was a protest in the muscles she used. Enough protest that she realized that after the strain on her muscles today, she might be quite sore in the days to follow.

"Zibri in a corral," The young man's voice reached her through her determined focus on the task at hand. "Not even a hard challenge, you just watch." He finished, his boastful air causing Naiya to further shrink into herself. These were the kind of boys she experienced often, bold, brash, and thinking the best of themselves. She did not want to draw their attention. It was these types of men that had brought about her need to be rescued so long ago, and she had been in much better shape then than she was now.

She wouldn't draw their attention, she would take her part in the competition and leave.

She glanced at Khida, her worry perhaps evident to the woman who knew her better than most, but Khida did not look bothered, and when she glanced at the final arrival to their competition group, she also seemed to be fine.

Perhaps her upset was only due to her own perception, though if that was the case, it did not make it any easier to ignore.

The first task before her was easy enough, shoot the target, don't cross the line. She could manage that. She had strung her bow, she could shoot the target. Even out of practice, this was a task simple enough. She slipped her quiver back over her shoulder, letting it fall smoothly across her back and just in reach of her hand.

She drew an arrow from the quiver, letting the weight of the arrowhead guide her hand into place as her hand with the bow raised to meet it. Together, both her hands settled into place, lining up a shot at the target. Holding there at the ready, she glanced at the grasses near her target, noting the soft swaying of the tips there, a sign of the gentle breeze blowing across their range. It wasn't blowing hard enough to cause her worry though, so she nocked her arrow and drew her arm back, anchoring her hand at the corner of her mouth. Her arm wobbled with the strain of holding the string, and she had to forcibly still her arm to aim.

She gazed down she shaft of the arrow, aiming a bit low on the center of the target to adjust for the distance between her eye and her anchor point. She took a deep breath and after a moment released it. When her air was gone and her body was still between breaths, she checked her aim once more quickly before releasing her hold on the arrow.

The soft twang of releasing the bowstring was followed by the sound of the passage of the arrow, and the dull sound of it hitting the target across from her. Her arrow was low, lower than she had meant it, and to the right of where she had been aiming. She glanced at her feet and shifted her stance and repeated the process. Her arrow was higher and more centered, but still off her original aim of center target. She was slow, going through the aiming and finding the stillness where the best shots were fired. All the same, her last shot was still off the center of the target, appearing to have just barely touched the center ring.

[Merevaika]

Merevaika was the last arrival, followed by a sign of All complete, we begin.

One of the boys sized Merevaika and another female contestant up, replying to a second young boy. It was evident in the way he stood that he was filled with confidence and hot air, and he spoke in the same fashion, suggesting that he believed that he would be able to fly past this round without a second thought.

"We'll see when it actually starts: whether your claims are just as empty as that head of yours," she replied, unsure whether it would fuel him or shut him up. She hoped it would be the latter, wishing his boasts were the only way he could actually appear good.

Beginning to ignore them, Merevaika examined the target, pulling on the new glove and arm guard. The leather wasn't as stiff as she had expected, but Merevaika still found it uncomfortable and restrictive. She flexed her arm a little, letting the material soften and her arm and hand grow accustomed to the extra layer. It would stop her fingers from aching, and the string from catching her arm.

She stood behind the rope, the words of the moderator a soft background noise blending into the voices of spectators and other competitors. Taking out the bowstring, Merevaika hooked it onto one end of the bow before tucking that end between her feet and stretching it up over the other end. The movement was hard, the bow unwilling to bend and the string stubborn, but she did it without taking too much time over it.

Taking her first arrow, stood side on to the target, feet shoulder width apart. Unlike hunting, this felt slow and relaxed, as if she had all the time in the world. Merevaika had to fight the urge to fire quickly and lots, knowing that she could only use three arrows and that the more time she took, the more accurate she would be able to make it.

Merevaika let the arrow slide into place, holding the string tight. Slowing her breath, she pulled the string back gradually, letting her hand reach the corner of her mouth. This movement was fluid, and she was satisfied with her strength to pull the string ever so slightly back a bit more. Her eyes settled onto the centre of the target, and she shifted ever so slightly to line up the arrow with a point just below.

Taking a deep breath, she let the wind settle slightly, before exhaling slowly and releasing the arrow.

It thudded into the target, the correct but too far to the left. Merevaika stepped forward, moving into position once more. Adjusting her stance and aim, she took longer over this arrow, checking the aim before moving slightly before checking the aim again. She released her breath, feeling strange as the glove shielded her fingers from the warm air. Feeling distracted, she checked her aim once more, noting that some had already finished.

Her second arrow seemed to fly faster, and the aim was much better. Although still to the left, it was almost at the center ring. She let out a sigh of relief, trying to keep her position similar as much as possible, although bringing her aim to the right a little more.

Her final shot was much too far to the right, but once again at the same height as the centre ring. Perhaps it was the confidence of her last shot that had mean that she had gone through the aiming process a lot quicker that time, or perhaps it was because of the wind, but Merevaika didn't care. It hadn't hit the center of the target. Why it didn't wouldn't matter.

[Khida]

oocSorry for the delay, delay, delay...

Khida noticed, as the youths verbally puffed themselves up -- most of their words escaped her, but the tone said more than enough -- that their wife held herself in a strangely small way. The smallness of prey avoiding predator, or that was as close a meaning as Khida could assign for the woman's manner. It caused the Kelvic to eye the youths more closely, much as she might regard a potentially poisonous snake. They didn't seem like trouble, exactly... but Khida decided then and there that she didn't like them.

The Kelvic moved to interspose herself between Naiya and the group of young men, though she was careful to leave the archer ample personal space in which to wield her bow. Naiya's performance at the test, she didn't look to see; only noticed that the shots were made, and that the Drykas beyond followed with her own turn.

The youth had his bow ready, his eyes fixed on the women's targets. He smirked at Merevaika's taunt, and smirked wider at the spread of Naiya's arrows. Merevaika's he considered with less overt smugness, but with no dimming of his self-confident manner. He met Khida's distrustful regard, and arched brows in her direction. Continue, he waved at her, the gesture exaggerated and magnanimous.

Khida didn't like giving up her watch of him, but she had agreed to participate... and he still didn't seem like trouble in the way she understood. She glanced briefly to Naiya, then readied her own arrows. Three, as Naiya and Merevaika had done; two she pressed point-down into the soft soil, the last she nocked to her bow.

She breathed, measured, slow. Ignored the strain in her muscles, still becoming acclimated to the bow's draw. Focused on the target as if it were a bird below her falcon-self in the sky, pinpoint center of attention. She drew until the feathered fletching brushed her cheek, sighted down the shaft. There was the target, the thing she needed to hit. She would hit it.

Khida released. The arrow leapt across the distance, sinking into the target nearly a hand's width above the center ring.

Frustration nipped at the edges of her breathing-forced calm. She needed to do better -- in the falcon's terms, to show the youth fluffed feathers and mantled wings, that she would not be intimidated and did not approve of his behavior. Only that wasn't as easy to do with the bow in her hands; it didn't handle as automatically as wings or talons or flesh-ripping beak.

Pulling her second arrow from the earth, Khida reiterated her routine -- breath, focus, feel. She waited the length of another breath, in and out again, before releasing the arrow. It, too, thudded into the target well away from the center ring, striking a point low and to the right. Closer, but not close enough.

Not good enough. A hiss escaped Khida's lips as she took up the third, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong with the first two. She had sighted on the center. Perhaps if she corrected to the left before release...

...which landed her third arrow beneath the center, still three inches outside the ring.

The youth's smile remained as he watched Khida's attempts. "Not bad," the youth stated, his manner shaded with condescension he failed to hide, one hand waving to apply the statement to all of you.

The all but frantic avert from one of the young women looking on clearly passed by blind eyes, so far as its intended recipient was concerned.

"Not bad," he continued, "but I think you ladies should've spent more time warming up this morning." The youth grinned at them all, then sent each of his three arrows downrange in rapid succession. The first landed just outside the center ring, off by half an inch to the left; the second and third walked across the ring, one just inside its bottom curve, the other bisecting the ring on the right.

"Petch," the youth muttered as he evaulated his own shots, gesturing bad shape in a thoughtless way. But whatever personal mark they failed, the results still brought that smug quirk back to his lips.

"Who's empty-headed now?" he asked of his three opponents.

next upI figured you two should have a chance to respond, so I didn't go right into the next challenge. If anyone wants to move right on ahead (as opposed to facing off with Gavin), my plan is to do opposing targets at 50 meters. Shoot at one, turn around and shoot at the other. Expect the wind to kick up a bit more.

npcsAlso, I don't remember if I said before, but -- both the nuisance youth (Gavin) and his intended (Nerian, she who signs avert) are in Khida's plotnotes.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Merevaika]

Compared to the other women, she hadn't done that bad. But then the youth, the one with his head full of hot air, shot three arrows in quick succession, landing far closer to the centre than any of them had. He definitely seemed proud, smug smile returning to his face after he faked disappointment in his shots. At least, Merevaika chose to believe it was disappointment. She knew she was the type to do so. She didn't want to admit that this youth was better.

Merevaika refused to let him feel smug about himself. "I wouldn't be so quick to throw that description away. You don't seem the type to have much else in there. So what, you can shoot a few arrows into a target. That doesn't make you anything. Even non-Drykas could do that." Merevaika laughed to herself, "I doubt you'll ever total anything in Endrykas. I mean, you can't even pretend that you'd make a good Ankal. That is, if anyone is stupid enough to give the position to you." She knew the proud, boastful type. She knew that they often were the ones who only wanted to be Ankal, to be in power. She was basically one of them. Of course, her situation had always been a little different.

Tightening her chest and straightening up, Merevaika tried to appear unmovable from her approach, rooting herself with a sold stance. Her eyes flickered as a fresh gust brushed against her face, marking the breeze stronger, more of a problem. Hopefully, she would be able to avoid that problem and this youth wouldn't. She hoped.

She could sense the boy moving to talk, but didn't let him, launching herself into the competition like a glassbeak launched itself at its prey. Even if she couldn't win this, she would certainly attempt to knock this boy off his high horse. Let him taste the mud a while. Her mouth curled into a smile as she decided to do just that. As the man in charge of their group began to organise the next round, Merevaika found herself extended her foot within the last few ticks of the youth moving, just in place for him to trip over. Let him taste the mud both metaphorically and literally.

"At least I can manage to stay upright. If you can't do that on two feet, what are you like on a horse?" she joked at his stumble, trying to not think about what he would react with. Then, realising she could insult him even more, Merevaika pulled back a strand of hair, preparing herself. "That is, if a Strider ever mistakes you for a real Drykas." It was wild and not perfected, an easy insult thrown at him with little strength, aim or direction. Merevaika didn't really care. Sometimes the easy shots were the best to take, no matter how badly she took them. Sort of like with archery.

Merevaika smiled to herself, almost wishing the position were reversed as she had the best comeback. But before she let him return one of his own, she had already focused on the next challenge, taking a steady stance. Her body trembled, then tightened, letting the wind rush over her body as she solidified, then loosened again. Finally, she settled into the right shape, finding it hard to uncover when she was searching for it. Taking a deep breath, she drew back the bowstring and raised the bow all at once, lining up her shot. The wind was too strong to aim simply, so she adjusted quickly, moving it up the target and towards the wind. It was stronger now, and she hesitated a moment to find when it was the quietest.

Then she released. Even before she heard the thud of it hitting the target, she had turned, another arrow resting in her hand. The shot was the same, only this time adjusted in the other direction. Her eyes lingered on this one, watching it fall just inside the second ring. Her first shot, however, was at least twice as far from the centre than that one, however, and Merevaika couldn't hide her disappointment. Her eyes moved to the youth, trying to appear challenging, but actually watching him for information. Out of all of them, no matter what she said, he was the best.

[Naiya]

Naiya was inwardly grateful for her wife's notice. For the shelter she offered if by only being a friendly barrier between her and the prideful young man who promised only bad news. Naiya had no words to spare for the boy, nor the strength of will to deliver them the way the needed. Instead she took some pleasure in the words of the other woman, and turned quietly to her next task.

The targets were set at a great distance, but their marker fell in the middle. She moved to stand, two arrows as the man announced. Her feet found the mark and her eyes fell first on the billowing of the grass. The silvery tips fought to stand tall, buffeted by the breath of Zulrav.

She watched for any sort of pattern in the breaths of wind, but her inexperience afforded her no such promise. Instead she waited for the next stand to blow through before she began to aim. She knew that she couldn't afford to shoot into the wind when it blew across the target, but it would take a pause, like the breath of a horse, and she would fire then.

The targets were the same, set far apart, but at the same height. If she could line up a good shot on one side, she could pivot and fire at the same height with only the time to make sure her direction was clear.

She lined up her feet, drawing an arrow and placing it onto her string. She stretched the limber bone until the fletching feathered against her cheek. Her shot was far, but not outside the realm of reasonable for her bow, so she did not adjust wildly upwards, instead she lined up dead center, hovering only a little high to account for any drop in the arrow.

She took note of her body, the height of her arm and the posture she had adopted, things that were comfortable and familiar, but took finding. With any luck on her turn she would know instead where her body belonged.

When the wind softened, she loosed the arrow, making sure only that it was clear of her bow before turning, drawing the next arrow as she moved. Finding her position with the ease of memory from only ticks, she lined across the center of the opposite target, making sure her turn had not angled her past the mark. Sure of her plan, she loosed the arrow quickly, following the path of it's passage with her head still lined for her shot.

It appeared reasonable, perhaps one of her better shots but nothing in comparison to the boastful male. On a turn, she found that the other arrow had landed well also. The first hit shy of center as well, but closer than most of her other shots from the same day.

Somehow, however, her enjoyment of the event was failing, the boastful men sucking the spirit of such games out of the event. Was this not a competition of the drykas? There were none here who needed told whether or not they belonged. Yet this boastful child of a man spat on the spirit of their event.

It brought distaste to her posture, even if only slightly so. The shift in her mindset was enough to bring her out of her shell enough to smile at the other woman, companionship shaped between their attempts. Neither of them were exceptional, but they both had come out to enjoy the festivities. Who was the other to take that from them?

She moved to her wife with a little less hesitance, her smile warming her cheeks. "You've practiced more than I lately, do you think you'll best my last attempt?" She asked with gentle teasing in the shaping of her hands.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant