Suzerain of Sheol
Desolation Denizen
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#21
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The weight of the Emperor's gaze on her is difficult to withstand as she rides out to pay him worship before the joust. Amélie is unsure whether she is known to him, though if the Lord Charlemagne, with his depth of piety, disdains her for her perfidy, he does well to hide it. If anything, the assembled peers look to her with respect, which does little to ease Amélie's trepidation at performing before such a prestigious audience.
Lord, let me only not slay who rides against me. Permit me not to shame myself with that murder which comes so easily to these crude hands. For once, I might be a knight as legendry purports, glorious and pure, if thou but allow it. Jesu Domini, so I pray.
Amélie is surprised to hear the name of another woman called as her opponent, and narrows her eyes behind her visor at the other's slight frame and diminutive stature.
She hears a call from the ranks of attending knights, a shout of encouragement to this Mistral, and looks to see the crest of Sir Guillame de Marachel himself urging her to victory.
All at once, the misgiving she held at facing this seeming-weak opponent falls away. That she is a student of Sir Guillame, perhaps the greatest knight in all the world, presents an entirely different reservation.
Before me marshals the blossom of France's chivalry, well-tended and fresh-cut to bask in the waxing sun of God's favor. I am unworthy of this.
Nonetheless, Amélie readies herself, accepting the lance that is brought to her and breathing deep. She can feel Sombre grow tense beneath her, sensing the imminent charge. Somewhere, Kier is watching this. Does he know the name of de Marachel? He outdid himself to bring her this far this morning, and now, how can she but betray that effort?
Nonetheless.
When the heralds sound their horns, the honed instincts of war seize Amélie and Sombre, and she drives the destrier on in a hammering charge, the lance angled over the divide at the smaller woman's shield. Her own is heavy, but it maters not. This will be over soon.
Cold silence has a tendency
to atrophy any sense of compassion
between supposed lovers.
Between supposed brothers.
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Posted 03-08-2014, 01:12 AM
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