And then he lost.
It was just a little thing, really. Just a slight shining in her eyes. In that relaxed, casual ‘I’m so innocent butter won’t melt in my mouth’ stance that she had, in the slow rhythm of her breathing, in the scent of her sweat. He had last seen it in his hated Master, mocking him and his comrade with leering insinuations. Here, it was simple knowledge. Then, it had been promises of petty humiliations. Now, it was solace for the bereaved. Then, his reaction had been despair. Here, it was relief.
In a moment. For now, she just stood there, looking him up and down, Her gaze holding him rooted to the floor. Critiquing, as one would a pupil. Examining, as one would a scroll. He didn’t know how long they both stood, eyes meeting across the floor, until she spoke.
“It ain’t honorable to challenge the wounded.”
Soun didn't dare blink.
“I’ll hang around ‘till you get better, though.” She smiled, and wiggled her eyebrows. "I've been told y'got a dojo sign around here, somewhere."
And the moment was broken, and Soun collapsed back into his stance, too tired for anything more than a nod.
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(Posted Mon, 30 Jun 2003 15:32)
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