¤ Brotherhood ¤
part 1: the homefront

by Neishai

One could hear a rustling of heavy fabric and thin parchment, the gentle clap of a pair of slender hands. "This will be so exciting, Sumuru, I can hardly wait." Piosa sat in the lush green grass with her skirts surrounding her like a large, richly colored mushroom cap. Her legs were folded to the side as she leaned against a large tree, practicing her penmanship in the cool shade. Or she had been trying to, but her thoughts were drifting elsewhere.

Nearby, under the hot sun stood her friend and personal guard, Sumuru. Her chest heaved slowly and her boyish, short black ringlets stubbornly clung to her wet brow. She did not glance back at Piosa, nor did she relax her throwing-stance as she eyeballed the target. "I don't get it, Piosa. It's just a hatching, but you haven't shut up 'bout it since your father got word." With a soft grunt, she shot one of her throwing knives across the lawn. Like a sliver of lightning it sliced through the air so quickly that Piosa had to squint to follow its movement. Unsurprisingly, it impaled the target within the center circle.

She returned to her writing with a coy little smile. Her fair skin and golden-brown hair were dappled with delicate leaf patterns cast from the branches overhead. "Oh, I don't know," she said, "maybe I have someone there waiting for me."

Sumuru almost dropped the second knife, which she held in her other hand, on her toe. Had she done so, the thick leather of her boot would not have protected it from such an acute blade. Her flinty eyes seemed eager to break free of their sockets. "What?"

"Really, Su. Standing with your mouth hanging open like that does not suit you." Piosa dipped her pen in the ink reservoir at her side. She looked up briefly with a graceful arch of her brow. "It's not very ladylike."

"Hmph. Well you know what I have to say about that," Sumuru muttered, returning her attention to the target. "It's your job to be the lady, mine to be your knight."

They shared a rueful smirk, Sumuru gazing at her knife, Piosa at her flowing skirts.

"I know," Piosa sighed. "That's the problem." Before Sumuru could reply, she rose to her feet and dusted herself off, then reached down to gather up her supplies. "Let's go, I grow weary of this heat. My ink is beginning to dry out."

As propriety dictated, her servant faced her and bowed low. "Of course, M'lady." Once her knives had been retrieved, Sumuru trailed behind Piosa through the courtyard and in through a side entrance to her father's Keep.

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