Willow Cooper-Delaney never misses her mark. (excellentaim) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-01-25 11:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | arrowette |
Who: Willow (a narrative)
What: Discovering abilities.
Where: Practice stadium, let's pretend UofW.
When: Tuesday noon-ish? When everyone is getting lunch.
Warnings: None.
Eyes on the target. Willow could hear her mother speaking to her in that too-cheery tone, and she had to remind herself the Pauline wasn't there. She'd left Musings to get away from her and here she was, hearing her voice her over and over again in her head. Keep your elbow high, baby. She pulled the bowstring back, making sure to keep her elbow tight, trying hard to ignore the voice that kept telling her what she already knew. That's it, now let go. She did just that, reveling in the swift swoosh as the arrow whizzed past her ear.
Willow loved everything about bows and shooting arrows. She loved the feeling of the smooth arrow shaft between her fingers. She loved the sound of the bowstring hitting her leather bracer. She loved the vibrant primary colours of the practice target. She loved absolutely everything about it, everything except the sound of her mother's voice constantly in her ear, telling her what to do even when she'd done it perfect a thousand times before. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Pauline standing over her, breathing down her back, telling her that this was the last one if she hit the bulls-eye.
"But you said that last time," Her eyes snapped open, eyes darting around the empty arena before she realized that it had been her own voice all along. Just another too-vivid memory of her crazy mother. It was time to let go, she told herself as she walked over to stand in front of the next target. But still, Pauline's voice spoke to her loud and clear as the twang of the bowstring echoed through the vacant space. Rubbing a hand over her face in frustration, she walked over to the third target and tried again. Still, no dice, Pauline was as strong as ever in her mind. Maybe it was time to stop for the night.
Dropping her bow and quiver to the ground, Willow walked to the targets and pulled her arrow from the bulls-eye. Oh, she'd hit the bullseye. Between her mother's voice and being too distracted to expect much, she hadn't even noticed. The second one hit the target right in the center as well. By the time she made it to the third target, she was starting to get suspicious. There was no way she could have hit all three targets when her mind was so obviously elsewhere. Frowning slightly, she chalked it up to excessive practicing. She would ask Finn if anything strange had happened to him when she got home. Well, stranger than normal.