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*nods*
Very dangerouse
We should do it. XD
haha, I’m back!
Wolfgang
The moment of soberness passed. “I can fight with more than the sword! Hand to hand combat, and guns! I can fight with guns! I could if I had one. I would use a Luger. I can shoot Lugers you know. I just need to try.”
______
Wolfgang: I can shoot a gun!
Wolfgang: *blows his face off*
Wolfgang: See!
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music
Yay!
Wolfgang is a walking facepalm.
Wilhelm
“Really? What’s a Luger? One of your guns?” He waved his hands vaguely. He had a distinctive mistrust of Wolfgang’s skill with the weapon. Something about his repeated lack of practice was unnerving. It made the shiver from earlier return, only to settle into flutters in his stomach.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Wilhelm is?! What about wolf? lololol
Wolfgang
His eyes widened. “A Luger is THEE German gun! it’s a recoil-operated semi-automatic pistol. My Papa has one but I’ve never been able to get my hands on it. He’s going to give me one though. He said so.”
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music
I think that’s what I said. XD
Wilhelm
No amount of Wolfgang’s excitement, although it lit every aspect of his face, could explain what a Luger was. Wilhelm hardly understood the term “gun.” He suspected it was the kind of thing you would have to see to understand. The weapon sounded like a small war engine or a bow. Wolfgang’s father seemed to be rather protective of it.
“Ah. Well, if you get one while we are both still here, you will have to show me.” Wilhelm propped his chin up on his hands. It was an entirely unsophisticated position, but sophistication was the last thing on his mind.
“I can fight well enough. Wrestling was always my brother’s best skill, but most other disciplines find us equal. It is a pity I had to leave most of my weapons at home.” He tapped his chin. “I do have my swords, of course, and a dagger and spear or two. But I understand that the school will supply blunted arms for practice. No good killing off royalty.”
He laughed and pushed himself to his feet.
“I suppose this wouldn’t be practice, would it?”
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Remington
“That sounds like a good idea. How about you take him, and I’ll fetch him some water?”
Callum’s head hung low, and Remington took the opportunity to shake him gently so it looked like he was nodding.
Ellis
As Remington scurried away to get water, Ellis chatted to Callum as he led him outside. While not as loud as Remington, Ellis did very much enjoy talking.
“No need to be embarrassed. I do the same thing from time to time. Sort of. When I get visions I tend to fall over. I don’t go faint, I just can’t see or feel my surroundings anymore. Hard to balance. So I can kind of relate.” This was a bit embarrassing to talk about, especially as a first impression, but Callum wasn’t adding anything to the conversation himself, so Ellis continued. “I used to have a servant around at all times just in case, but father didn’t send him with me. I can’t grow into a man with a babysitter following me around all the time, he said.” He smiled wryly.
By now they had left the building, and found a metal bench to sit on next to a very tall statue of what Ellis assumed was probably a very important man. After making sure Callum was comfortable on the bench, he sat down next to him. “Are you feeling any better?”
⭐️World's Slowest Writer⭐️
🤦🏼♀️
Yes, you did. I miss-read it.
lololol
Wolfgang
“No it wouldn’t,” he laughed, sitting up quite suddenly. “I hope I do find a Luger here. You would like it. But one moment… I mean, I are we actually going to kill people?”
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music
Hehe
Wilhelm
“Well,” Wilhelm paused. He turned to look Wolfgang in the face. “Hopefully not. It’s likely that all this suspicion is unfounded. If so, then no. We will not actually kill people. But if the leaders of this school truly are planning fiendish conspiracy….”
He took down the sword he had stowed away by the fireplace. His great sword. Its sheath was black in his hands, a shadow that encased the brightest of silvers.
“What else did you expect to do when surrounded by enemies? I will kill someone, someday. Probably many people. People can be evil, and it’s part of a warrior’s duty to destroy evil. Why else would I learn to use this?” He drew the sword. The ripples in its steel caught the light and glittered like fire on water. He could almost hear the words: Uphold justice, keep truth, protect mercy. He let out a sigh, although he didn’t know if it was from relief or something else. A smile tipped up the corner of his mouth.
“Still, I doubt we will kill anyone this time.” He laid the sword on the table.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Wolfgang
The disturbed idea of killing people quickly melted in the sheen of the sword. Wolfgang drew nearer, and as Wilhelm put it down, he reached out a hand for it. “Can I hold it?”
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music
Wilhelm
His smile widened.
“Not like that. Put one hand here, and the other here. Like this.” He demonstrated, lifting the blade into a salute. It almost touched the ceiling. He held it out for Wolfgang to take. “It was my father’s sword. He won his spurs with it. Tis quite sharp and heavy, so be careful.”
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Wolfgang
He took the sword as Wilhelm showed him and the blade wavered, swooping toward the ground. He wrestled it upright with an effort, lips pressed tight together and brow furrowed. “It’s heavy! Not at all like the fencing sword I have, or even the one August Heim let me hold. Did you know he was an Olympic Champion? He let me hold his own sword, but it wasn’t heavy like this.” He tried an experimental swing, delighted with the way the light rippled off the blade.
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music
Ahh. I love his response. Honestly, relatable.
Wilhelm
He laughed, ducking out of the way of Wolfgang’s stroke. A cord of terror was threading it’s way through his mind, taught with shimmering excitement. He slipped around to Wolfgang’s other, less dangerous side.
“This sword was made to shear through plate armor. Of course it’s heavy.” Wilhelm steadied Wolfgang’s hands. “We train our strength for years to use the great swords. This one is not even as long as the one my father uses now.”
But it was more beautiful. There was something otherworldly in the way the alloys within the steel rippled. Wilhelm blinked to clear his vision.
“Use your non-dominant hand to balance the weight, and move your shoulders, not just your arms. Your foot position is good though… This August Heim is a great champion among your people? For what causes does he fight?”
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
And I am dying at Wilhelm’s! These two are the most unlikely friends in the world, (which is what makes a good book I hear lol)
Wolfgang
He obeyed the other boy’s instructions. “You can be sure he’s a great champion!” he exclaimed, swinging the sword in another arc, this one a little less painfully jerky than the first. “Yes, he is a champion–– I like this sword, the light on it is amazing!–– he won two bronze medals in the 1936 Summer Olympics, fighting in foil and in sabre teams–– wow this must pack a punch! He should have won all of them, but the Italians or someone else was better–– did you say this goes through armor?”
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music
They totally are!
Wilhelm
Wolfgang’s second swing was more controlled, although it still sent Wilhelm’s heart up in his throat. He forced his voice into a level calm.
“Ah. That’s better… It depends on the armor, but yes. There’s little use in a weapon that can’t reach your enemy.” Once more, he edged back to give Wolfgang more room. “So he fights tournaments? Is that was the Olympics are?”
It was a little disappointing, but then again, considering the political importance of tourneys, a good champion of that sort was good to have around. Even if he wasn’t a hero.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
A little bored despite the late hour so here’s a ramble into this wild boy’s mental state.
Ari
Low lamplight painted the gold and crimson walls in a warm glow. Muted footsteps echoed off the polished floors.
Ari mounted the last few steps up to the floor with his personal quarters. A few other residents sprinkled the hallway in wandering clusters. Not too many people were eager to lock themselves away for the night. Ari brushed past them, ignoring the friendly looks a few of the newer students sent him.
They’d learn better. They always did.
His steps faltered. A man in a dull red tunic stood by his door. The yellow leather binding his boots up to his knees marked him as a runner–a trusted messenger that usually rode horseback despite his job description. From the amber shade of his hair, this was one of Ari’s mother’s people. The boy’s clenched jaw loosed in a sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment then stepped clear of the last cluster of princelings.
Best get it over with the smallest disturbance to his life.
“Do you have something for me?”
The man stiffened to attention, then relaxed as he recognized Ari.
Well, relaxed wasn’t exactly the right word, but the man removed his hand from the knife in his belt. He bowed.
“Aye, your grace. A letter, sir.”
I really do look too much like my father.
“Thank you…” he drug out the last syllable into a verbal question mark.
The man simply bowed again. Ari smiled to himself.
Definitely one of his mother’s runners. He took the letter the man offered him and nodded to the hall.
“Wait here.”
Alone in his rooms Ari slit free the blob of red sealing wax sealing. His hands were steady, as he opened it. Familiar scrolling ink spilled across the parchment.
His mother missed him. Was proud of who he was meant to be. Demanded he write a reply to tell her of everything that had happened since he left.
Ari looked up from the letter, frowning. Movement across the room caught his eye. Dark blue eyes stared at him, eyes just like–he gasped.
But no. It was a mirror.
That’s you, Verenion.
He dropped the parchment on the table.
Maybe he should try another haircut.
A cup of tea is cheaper than therapy.
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