Kiernan Manley (wingsofwyverns) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-06-06 07:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !narrative, kiernan manley |
There's a grief that can't be spoken, there's a pain goes on and on
Who: Kiernan & NPCs
What: Angst Remembrance
Where: Fighters Guildhall
When: Mid-morning
Rating: PG13 - mention of violence
Status: Complete
The instructor was new, or at least, one Kiernan had never seen before. She eyed him warily, and he waved with a two finger salute and a small smile before taking a seat on the bench against the wall. He didn't wear his armor today – there was no point. He wasn't here to train today but to observe, if the instructor asked. If she didn't, then he was here to lose himself.
She didn’t ask. Her attention returned to the young dragoons as she instructed them to fall into a ready stance, her voice rising against their excited chatter. Only one or two heeded her at first, but when her firm tone turned angry, the rest of the students fell into place, and she walked down the line to fix postures while lecturing them on the importance of keeping a wide stance, of staying on the balls of their feet, of keeping this arm in front of their chest and the other, their spear arm, behind them. Ah, Kiernan realized: she was teaching them Jump. A vital skill. And, thank Faram, she was having them practice unarmed.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers weaved together as he continued to watch, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have been teaching in here by herself. She’d have had at least four other dragoons with her, but those numbers have dwindled significantly over the years, and now it was back to how it was before the accident.
They had been learning Jump, too, or so Kiernan had heard, that day – today, twenty-two years ago. He could well imagine the rest of the details, as much as he didn’t want to. Torin and that kid, that kid who was no longer one, who’d quit dragoon training after the incident and was rumored to have left Emillion altogether, had been here, acting like excitable children pretending to be something that they weren’t yet, showing off different tricks they had been practicing when they should have been doing chores. Kiernan knew – Torin had pulled him away from his to show him some of it every evening. In fact, Torin had even tried teaching Kiernan, and he had taught him, of course, incorrectly. He’d had to relearn everything when he began learning Jump formally, after all, though that would be months, years later.
“Now, jump!” The instructor’s voice brought him back in time to see the kids leap gracelessly in the air only a couple of feet and land in a crashed heap on the matted floor. Kiernan held back a snicker; this was the norm, of course, and one of the reasons why they were practicing unarmed for now.
The instructor barked at them everything they had done wrong as they picked themselves from the floor, groaning and grumbling. Only one student had landed on her feet, and the instructor waved her to the front as the example of what to do right. Kiernan watched as the girl demonstrated what she had done, and her success was met with light claps from her peers before the instructor yelled, “Again!”
As the drill continued, Kiernan began to see his brother’s broad shoulders and mischievous smirk among the dragoons, ribbing and laughing in his boisterous manner. He could almost hear Torin mocking the group as they kept falling all over themselves, how he might have sneered at the one girl who was managing better than the rest, and how he might have stepped in to show just exactly how much better he was than even her. Especially her. It was what they did then, Torin and Kiernan, even as squires, until that damn harpoon found Torin’s heart and pierced it out of his body.
Kiernan closed his eyes at the image of his older brother, seventeen years old, fallen to the soft floor, a puddle of dark red staining the fabric, his eyes and mouth open in surprise where they’d stay frozen until the coroner closed them for the funeral…
He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes flew open to meet the hazel ones of the young prodigy of the group.
“Sorry!” she said. “I was just wondering if you’re okay.”
Kiernan regained himself and smiled. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired. And hungover.” The girl didn’t look convinced. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?”
“We’re on a break.”
“Ah.” Sure enough, the group had dispersed, and many of the students bustled in and out of the training room. “Am I in your spot?” The bench had looked empty, devoid of any water bottles or towels or anything, but then, this was not the sort of day that Kiernan noticed much in the way of details.
She shook her head. “You just looked… sad.”
“Mhairi,” said the instructor, approaching the two, “go and help Kenneth get the training spears. The dull, wooden ones, please. Not even you are ready for the actual weapons yet.” The girl scampered off, and the instructor turned back to Kiernan. “You must be Kiernan Manley. I was told to watch out for you today.”
“Oh?” This had been a tradition for twenty years now, and most in the Fighters Guild knew that he would be here. Still, the comment caught him off guard. “You’re not kicking me out, are you?”
“As much as I’d like to, no. I was told to leave you to your… mourning.”
“Am I a distraction?”
“In a word.”
With that, Kiernan couldn’t help but to laugh, but he stood anyway. “A distraction is the very last thing I want to be today. Don’t worry, I’ll leave. I don’t want anybody accidentally killed on my account.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Kiernan raised his eyebrows in surprise; he hadn’t meant it as a joke. “I know.” He glanced around at each student as they talked and joked and laughed amongst one another, and he said, as though he just noticed, “So you’re teaching by yourself?”
The instructor stiffened. “I’m more than capable.”
“That’s not what I meant. They used to require more instructors in the training halls. Not sure if you remember that, though. It was a while ago.” At her blank stare, Kiernan shrugged and flashed her a grin. “But you’re doing it smart. Just keep a close eye on them. Don’t let any of them get rowdy.”
“Mister Manley—”
He gripped her shoulder. “Keep up the good work.” Before he headed out the door, he stole a glance at the clock. Almost noon. He heard the instructor round up her students once more, and for a moment, just a brief moment, he thought he saw Torin among them.
He sighed. Twenty-two years, and he still couldn't move on past this.
It wasn’t too early to start drinking, was it?