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Post by Amri Amatzya on Jul 23, 2009 20:07:20 GMT -8
Amri couldn't help but chuckle as he watched the boy get thrown from his horse. What did he always say? Never rely on anything but your brute strength in battle, so now he had the upper hand, for brute strength he indeed had. After all, what had just been lifting a nine-foot long sword? His muscles, and they were longing for some one-on-one play. Banryuu had been having all the fun lately...it was time to even things up. It was only fair. A dangerous smirk came over his face, one that would remind someone of a wolf before they made their kill.
"Feh, I don't need any weapon other than Banryuu. I can control any fight with these fists." He ground his right fist into the palm of his left hand for a moment, seeing what it would feel like using his injured arm. He didn't like surprises in the middle of a brawl. It felt felt rough, and slicing, but good enough that he would be able to use his right hook. Tossing his head slightly to get his bangs out of his eyes, he cracked his knuckles and measured up his opponent, now that they were both on the ground. The boy was bigger...which irritated Amri in a deep spot in the back of his mind, but he of all people knew that height didn't matter. He had taken on people a foot taller than this boy and had come out victorious. One advantage Amri clearly saw was that he was wearing armor, not much, only a plate around his chest and on his left shoulder, but it had been enough to get him through many fights.
"Come on, let's do this. If you won't, then I'll come to you!"
Amri lashed out with his left fist. He had no disadvantage using his left fist primarily as opposed to his right, he had trained both arms equally. He focused an extreme amount of power and strength in the throw, though he tensed his stomach slightly in case he had to leap away. He thought this boy could have been the type for hidden weapons, and also thought he was low enough to use them with surprise. But Amri expected everything, because in his mind, there were no rules in a fight to the death.
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Post by Ceara Mindelan on Jul 23, 2009 20:44:30 GMT -8
Ignored again, of course. Ceara huffed at the lack of response to her yelling, but she didn't have time to think about that very much, for suddenly she saw the Prince's horse rear up, throwing the unsuspecting Prince from his back and taking off running. Running towards her, too. Ceara didn't think much, or else maybe she would have realized how silly and dangerous what she was about to do was, but as it was, she didn't think. She dropped her sword, bracing herself slightly as she turned fully towards the charging horse. At that moment, however, the horse saw her and veered right.
Ceara cursed and took off running, running in a way that she might be able to intercept the horse. However, the horse was a faster runner than her, of course, and she realized that she wasn't going to make it, that the horse would run right by her and be gone. She had no hope of catching the horse if she couldn't intercept him. So again she acted without thinking. She suddenly lunged, right as the horse was about to run by her, and grabbed onto the reins.
She'd seen quite a few very trained knights do this, grab onto the reins and pull themselves up onto the horse's back. They made it look so easy...but it was anything but, as Ceara soon discovered. She'd planned on doing that as soon as she caught hold of the reins, but only a moment later she was off her feet and being dragged by the horse. She refused to let go of the horse, however, though right away her hands began to hurt and rocks were being torn up and thrown at her. She did her best to protect her face and ignore the pain she felt and hoped the horse would stop soon, preferably before she broke a leg or something like that.___________________________________ Words: 329 Mood: Horrible headache! D= Notes: This shall be fun [/size]
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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Aug 3, 2009 14:46:26 GMT -8
x x i walk the borderline that divides me somewhere in my mind
Peregrine's hand flew to his boot, ready to grasp his dagger, but just as his fingers brushed the hilt, he pulled them away. Enemy this man might be? Kill him? The stranger had spoken of such things, but had made no move to try and seriously harm the prince. He couldn't draw a blade on this unarmed boy without cause. Such things would not be very chivalrous, even though chivalrous was the last thing Peregrine wanted to waste on this barbarian. Of course, the annoying blonde wench was promising to have little control over her loose tongue and the prince did not want any rumors, true or otherwise, getting back to the castle.
"This is fun," Peregrine said, smirking slightly, balling his scrawny, bony hands into fists. His piercing emerald eyes scanning his opponent up and down. Stronger? Perhaps. The prince was made of stronger stuff than he appeared. But he was wiry and rather small compared to the other knights. At five feet and eight inches, he was taller than the stranger and the boy appeared to weigh more than he did...in muscle. Peregrine, although notoriously clumsy, could still be agile enough to duck out of the way. He was faster than most knights, weighed down by their bulk and he ws much smarter too.
He raised both his fists in front of his face and swung experimentally in the boy's direction. He circled him, still wary should the stranger pull out a sudden and lethal weapon. Or, without warning, send a poisoned dart or arrow his way. When he had been a few years younger, he had been a foolish youth. He waited for no formalities, but simply moved in, straight for the kill. Now he waited, tested, watched his enemy's dark eyes, waiting for a sign, any hint of a giveaway.
The boy lunged and swung his fist at Peregrine in a left uppercut. Unperturbed, the prince dodged and moved in, closer. Normally, he might refrain from jesting about someone's physique, but with this boy, he simply couldn't help himself.
"A little higher, next time!" He taunted as he swung his right arm at the boy's face.
my shadow is the only one that walks beside me my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
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word count: 284 listening to: does your mother know ~ abba lyrics credit: boulevard of broken dreams by greenday mood: pretty good notes: sorry, it's been awhile and i'm sort of forgetting what our plan of action was originally. fyi in case i mess up
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 3, 2009 15:46:28 GMT -8
"Is that really the best you can come up with? Talking about my height? How sad." Maybe his height was his most sensitive spot, but this told him one thing: it the only thing in which this boy was better than him. He could see it in his eyes. Personally, Amri thought it was stupid to try and add up your opponent, and not only because he couldn't even do basic addition and subtraction. If you measured them up, you would see all the chances you had to lose, Amri didn't do such a thing because losing was simply not an option. He smirked yet again, it was his default and his signature.
"Now you," he started, bringing back his left shoulder to dodge in that direction, "Next time you should make it a little stronger, a little faster, and aim better. If you hit my shoulder plate it'll probably hurt, we wouldn't want that, would we?" He made his smirk a little bigger to show his teeth. Some people couldn't smirk with their mouth open, but Amri wasn't included, and it was often the last thing people saw before their life came to a sudden, abrupt, and unexpected end.
This was quite enjoyable for Amri. At least this boy was a little bit faster than normal people, at least fast enough to react before it was too late. Too many people were killed in the first blow, the people Amri always referred to as the disappointments, the ones he thought would put up a good fight but turned out to be duds. He blew his bangs out of his eyes once again as he jumped even further to the left in a circle around him and swung up his right leg to try and kick him in the rear.
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Post by Ceara Mindelan on Aug 4, 2009 13:01:14 GMT -8
Ceara continued to be dragged along behind the horse, hating every minute of it. Her hands were on fire, not literally of course, but they hurt so much that she was amazed that she was still able to clench her fingers to hold onto the reins. Her trousers now had about a dozen holes in them and were incredibly dirty, but she supposed that was to be expected after being dragged along behind a horse. She was just thankful that so far the horse hadn't accidentally stepped on her so far, and she prayed he'd slow down soon enough, maybe decide he didn't feel like dragging her along anymore. She wasn't having much fun and she highly doubted Dogstar was either. It's not like she weighed nothing, it had to be hard for him, too.
Then she felt her ankle twist, and she clenched her teeth together, refusing to allow herself to cry out in pain. Tears sprung to her eyes but she wouldn't allow herself to cry. Finally the horse begun slowing down, probably losing energy. As soon as the horse had slowed down enough she managed to get back to her feet, putting barely any weight on her right ankle. It was killing her, and she had a feeling she'd sprained it, making her regret going after the horse. At least she had him now, right? She kept a tight hold on the reins as she began limping back towards where Peregrine and Amri were still fighting. The horse had dragged her quite far away from them, and with her sprained ankle she knew it would take her a while to reach them, since every time she set her right foot down she winced and cursed quietly, it hurt that much. Could be worse, though. She could have broken a bone.________________________________________ Words: 313 Mood: Tired Notes: Alright, so Ceara isn't as good with horses as I thought. If the horse wouldn't randomly slow down, tell me and I'll try change it. I kinda forgot what our exact plan was. I won't reply to this again until they finish fighting, kay? [/size]
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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Aug 5, 2009 10:29:36 GMT -8
x x i walk the borderline that divides me somewhere in my mind
The prince tilted his head to one side, as if considering his opponent. The movement was oddly reminiscent of a dog that had just heard a high-pitched noise, but his lips were curved into a taunting jeer.
"Of course not, what, you want something better? We could talk about your general size. We could discuss various knights and warriors who are looking to instruct apprentices in the art of war. Because, trust me," He ducked, "you have no idea what you're doing." He grinned, knowing that his words didn't have to bear truth to spite a wound. "I could remark on the hellhole you call home, wherever it may be. I could insult your parents, question your manhood or just be generally intolerable. So..." He would have shrugged had his shoulders had not already been previously engaged.
Peregrine, being at the peak of his physical fitness, danced around with a gazelle, weightless, fast, clumsy, perhaps, but still agile. He knew just from watching him fight and dodging his blows that this boy was probably stronger than he was in muscle, but he was the clever one. He usually was. That, and his body was comprised of lean, wiry muscle. After a near miss, he swung at his opponent, his bony fist flying out into space.
"Right," He said, sarcasm floating in his youthful voice, "thank you, oh my mentor. I'll try to remember that next time." He swung a second time, the edge of Amri's foot grazing his thighs and he whirled around. The slight touch was all he needed.
my shadow is the only one that walks beside me my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
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word count: 257 listening to: frozen man by james taylor lyrics credit: boulevard of broken dreams by greenday mood: pretty good notes: none
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 5, 2009 12:38:19 GMT -8
Amri just raised his eyebrows as the boy went on and on about nothing much. Whatever he said obviously had no effect on Amri, for his expression and his focus remained the same. In fact, if anything, he looked amused. So this boy thought that playground taunts would effect his fighting? Would he be the same warrior if he had ever let those kind of things get to him? No, he had been called much worse, things that had actually insulted him and then gone on to beet those people to a pulp.
"Ah, see, you have no tact. I have no home and I'll join you in insulting my parents. And if you question my manhood..." he paused to smirk, "we can stop right now so I can show you I have one. You can question it one on one."
As the boy turned and swung with his right arm, Amri stopped himself from letting his eyes flash. He had fallen for it, but he wouldn't know that quite yet. In fact, Amri was kind enough to him think that he had tricked him, by taking the hit to the chest. Though, as Amri thought about it, it would probably hurt the boy more than himself. After all, his body was made less of flesh and more of rock. It would probably hurt like hell for his bony knuckles to come in contact with it
As expected, his fist came in contact, however, it barely seemed to have an impact, but he tried to act like it had hurt. Now, if he hadn't been expecting it, the hit would've distracted him, but now, he saw clearly exactly was he had been expected. The boy's right side was undefended. He held his fist to the side so it wouldn't be seen, and then lashed out to the right side of the boy's gut.
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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Aug 8, 2009 10:01:44 GMT -8
x x i walk the borderline that divides me somewhere in my mind
“Oh,” And despite himself, Peregrine knew he sounded rather disappointed. It was no secret around people who knew them that he liked it when his taunts got to his enemies. He prided himself on his intelligence. True, he was skilled for any warrior, no matter how royal or how strong, but his mind…that was his sanctuary. The one place he thought no one could ever break into, no enemy could ever break and no attacking force could ever bring down. Peregrine? Smart? That was an understatement.
“How unfortunate. I was going go ask you if you’d like to entertain yourself with shaming by ancestors. Of course, you’d have to determine who they are first.” He smirked. He was thrown backward, landed hard on the ground and felt something warm and sticky land on his hand. Then, his face began to hurt. He hadn’t even felt the boy’s punch.
Dazed, it took him a minute to realize the situation. He was on the ground, he had been hit by his enemy’s blow and he had no comeback nasty enough for accurately describe his pleasure at being temporarily thwarted. He rolled over on the ground, the feeling coming back to his face as he felt the warm blood trickle down his stinging nose and into his mouth. It was salty to the tasty, but the prince wiped as much as he could away with his sleeve, the dark blood staining his white shirt. It mattered not.
For a moment, Peregrine was convinced that the force behind the blow with which he had been hit had muddled his senses as well as the feeling by his nose. Shaking his head, he mentally repeated the words the stranger had said. No, he couldn’t be suggesting…he couldn’t possibly be suggesting…
“What?” The prince demanded, scrambling up from his all-fours position on the ground. “You’re worse than a satyr! Filthy, scum-ridden mind that you have! Keep your beard to yourself, you bastard.” The longer he spoke, the angrier became. “I have a lady-love. You are a dungbeetle, a Pope’s reject. A dirty outcast. You…I’m certain even the sword you carry would be bellowing in disgusted rage. You sicken me…you sicken everyone. You’re a disgrace to the name of warrior. You bring shame to even the name of Sceith. I don’t swing that way. I’m not on the same road. I’m heterosexual. I’m straight…WHAT PART OF KEEP YOUR BLOODY KILT ON DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!”
my shadow is the only one that walks beside me my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
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word count: 435 listening to: behind these hazel eyes by kelly clarkson lyrics credit: boulevard of broken dreams by greenday mood: amused notes: okay, making peregrine a little homophobic is worth that...ha ha ha ha ha ha. that was so awesome to write
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 8, 2009 11:41:40 GMT -8
Amri laughed as the boy went on and on about his comment. He really had freaked him out quite a bit, hadn't he? Well, that was good. With luck, he had inserted images in the boy's head that would distract him from the fight, which had been his primary purpose in purposely misinterpreting what he had said. It had worked out...almost too well, which was all the more amusing. The look of...fear on the boy's face was absolutely hysterical. What exactly did he think he was going to do? Get naked and demand that he did as well?
"Seriously man, you don't have to be so cruel," he mocked, enjoying the fact that he could now take advantage of the fact that this boy was petrified at the idea he might drop his pants, which Amri had no intention of doing. He snickered, "It was your idea in the first place, but sorry, I'm saving myself for someone special." That statement was only half true. Amri was indeed a virgin, much to the surprise of pretty much everyone he knew, but he was planning on keeping it that way. he was vulgar and crude, sure, but he never acted on those words he said. To be perfectly honest, the idea frightened him, and even odder for someone of his looks and his age, he had never had the urge. If some girl smiled at him, he would just look away and pretend she didn't exist. A friend had once told him that he should use the fact that he was practically the strongest man in the world to his advantage, to take advantage. Amri had replied with a simple, 'Why would I?' and moved on to a different subject.
So, was he just going to stand there and freak out or was he going to attack again? This was funny, but it was going to get boring pretty soon if the action just stopped. He jumped to land right in front of him with a smirk on his face and a punch aimed to go upwards and hit the bottom of his chin. "You should really be paying more attention to me than..." He stopped to chuckle, "whatever you're thinking about right now."
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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Aug 10, 2009 14:04:46 GMT -8
x x i walk the borderline that divides me somewhere in my mind
“I was not being cruel!” Peregrine protested, still feeling both shocked out of his wits and dazed. Thanks a lot mystery man with a gutter-mind. “I was merely stating the facts! I am attracted to women and women only. You on the other hand…” He didn’t even bother finishing his sentence; he had more energy-requiring things to focus on, like coming out on top in their duel. No, not coming out on top was completely the wrong phrase. What? Was he developing a new skill to come up with words that were utterly inappropriate for the situation?
“Someone special?” The prince’s voice was indeed cruel, but one could hardly blame him when perverts such as this boy strung their traps on him so unexpectedly. “Shall I assume that this man is indeed worse than you?” He jeered. “Or should I just imagine you only having eyes for yourself, you narcissistic wonder?” He snorted, liking that idea. “You do that, then and I hope you enjoy yourself.” He added, unnecessarily. Whipping around, he threw another punch, aiming for the boy’s face, disliking him more and more as time passed. His attacks became more aggressive and mighty as he went on. He was not tired yet and adrenaline was pumping through him as he fought a foe he had no problem with seriously harming. After all, the stranger wasn’t being kind, so Peregrine had no inclination to soften his fists. This was not a game; this was the real thing, even though it only involved the two of them. Still, he continued to play far even in such obscure fights as these.
A quiet, swiftly-growing wind caressed Peregrine’s cheek and the next thing he knew, he was flying backward, sent flying by the boy. This wasn’t at all in his favor and it wasn’t helping him establish his dominance. Blood gushed from his nose, making him appear even worse than he had a minute ago. He looked like a complete mess, but the boy’s words angered him more than his attack had. He scrambled to his feet.
“Just be glad that whatever I’m contemplating doesn’t involve you.” He spat, moving in to deal Amri another volley of attacking slugs.
my shadow is the only one that walks beside me my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
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word count: 380 listening to: i want you to want me by cheap trick lyrics credit: boulevard of broken dreams by greenday mood: pretty good notes: none
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 10, 2009 15:26:04 GMT -8
Amri snickered again. He just wasn't letting that go, was he? Well, it was something Amri would remember him by. 'The boy who was scared he'd drop his pants.' But it would really be quite a hassle. First he'd have to untie his sash and everything, and if he wanted to see anything, he's also have to lift up his armor, for hanging from the metal on his chest on both his front and his back was tightly-woven, blue-fern patterned material that provided extra protection. Nope, wouldn't be easy as it looked.
"Now, let's talk about this like mature adults," Amri began, even though he wasn't technically considered an adult yet. It didn't matter, and besides, he doubted that the boy had guessed that, "Laying a man just wouldn't be nearly as fun, though I personally avoid anything of that matter. I'm a busy man, with other things to do." He smirked as his punch easily threw him to the ground again, exactly where he belonged. Still, it was disappointing. He had thought he would have more umph than this, but so far, he hadn't really been a challenge, save for when he injured his right arm, but that was more of a mis-aim on his part, for he had only been trying to get Banryuu out of his hands. A stroke of luck, but it made no difference.
The boy got up again, which was good. Amri wasn't done yet. He launched an assault, which Amri merely smiled at and ducked to avoid, then using the boy's outstretched arms to slightly pull himself up onto the side of him, "Too predictable, wave it around a little at first, make me track it." He grinned again, and then pushed off his arms and jumped a couple of feet a way, daring him to try and pursue him. He cocked his head as a familiar expression came onto his face. Can you not guess the shape his lips decided to take on? Then you must be very dumb. He smirked, of course, a cocky smirk where the corner of his mouth was lifted, showing his gleaming white teeth.
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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Aug 11, 2009 5:05:33 GMT -8
x x i walk the borderline that divides me somewhere in my mind
“Mature adults? Don’t make me laugh, boy.” The prince scoffed, shaking his head, making the blood from his wounded nose splatter everywhere. He now looked about ten times worse than he actually did. Bloody noses tend to bleed a lot and that blood had spread to his cheeks, had trickled down his chin and it was making its way down to spread around his neck and throat, only these came in shallow streaks, nothing more. The blood had also temporarily stained his crooked teeth an unsettling crimson. Plus, when mixed with mud and sweat, it made the prince look not like a king’s son, but a complete and utter mess. He would be needed a bath later.
“You find that type of thing fun? Well, aren’t you the juvenile pervert.” Peregrine pointed out, resisting the act of increasing his distance from the boy-mercenary. Such things would be considered cowardly, for they meant that fear of being hit by one of Amri’s blow wasn’t the prince’s only qualm. It wasn’t as though he was really frightened of this…this mere boy, it was the thought more than anything else that bothered him, never mind that it bothered him a lot. Growing up in the middle ages did form these sort of ready-made opinions in someone. “What other things?” He pressed, knowing that if his opponent managed to shut him up, particularly after such a short space of time, it would be a form of victory on the foreigner’s part and Peregrine could not allow that. “Might I assume that other things involve laying a girl? Yes, I shall assume, it’s more palatable that way.” He smirked through the blood on his face and then spat onto the ground, blood and saliva mixing into a disgusting concoction that the crown prince of Scotland took little notice of. He was used to blood, even though certain wounds were too much for his eyes to handle.
Peregrine wrenched himself free of Amri’s iron grip. “Don’t touch me!” He snapped, sounding oddly like his cousin, Peter, who sounded more like his snobbish princess sisters than he did a prince. At least Pandion was tolerably humble, a trait in his brother the Peregrine often made fun of, but then he was in the habit of making fun of anything that involved his brother. In reality, he knew that touching your opponent was part of the sport of sparring, (although this duel could hardly be considered sport) but his demand was more for effect than anything else. Amri probably had more physical muscle strength than he did, he would admit that, but he was slippery, wiry and agile while he wasn’t falling over everything in his path. He ran forward, so that he was close up and personal and dealt his opponent a mighty blow, not even waiting to see whether or not his small, yet strong fist had made contact with the boy’s face.
my shadow is the only one that walks beside me my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
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word count: 509 listening to: dude looks like a lady by aerosmith lyrics credit: boulevard of broken dreams by greenday mood: pretty good notes: none
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 11, 2009 10:56:30 GMT -8
"So you'll admit you're immature? I whole-heartedly agree." This boy needed a lesson on how to truly aggravate one's opponent with words. Amri usually didn't entertain himself with throwing out meaningless taunts, but on occasion, it was enjoyable, like now. He had found a way to completely fluster him without receiving any damage to himself. What was the point in missing this opportunity? He had to admit, it was fun messing with someone who was more around his own age, for he usually fought with much older people, and many more of them, in groups ranging from two to twenty. Of course, the strategy he used for those types of fights didn't allow him much time for talking anyway.
Somehow, Amri managed to strut even though he wasn't walking. Perhaps it was skills, or maybe it was just practice. He could even give the impression of strutting when he was sitting down. Or maybe it was the clothes he wore, but if anything, they just made him look odd and different. It wasn't very many people who didn't even wear shoes. He just had the braces around his legs, so anyone could see his toes poking out. He amused himself by wiggling them.
His raised his head when the boy made the comment about laying girls, and suppressed a look of amused disbelief. Was that supposed to be an insult? Oh well, he may as well play along, "Oh yeah, constantly, twenty-four seven. You should be glad I made time in my schedule for this little tussle. I have a waiting line." However, he did stop himself from furrowing his eyebrows. What did 'palatable' mean? He could try breaking the word down, he was told that could work. 'Pa' meant father, 'la' meant to sing, 'ta' meant goodbye, and 'ble' was something you put soup in. So this boy thought he was a singing father who was saying goodbye to a bowl? Ha! Dream on, Amri wasn't going anywhere.
"You're really not in a position to be ordering me around," Amri replied to the boy's demand to not touch him, "If I feel like it, I will." He raised his eyebrow, but it was more of a taunt the way he did it. Of course, everything was like a taunt the way Amri did it, from the way he'd casually look out of the corners of his eye to the way the end of his long braid blew in the wind. He was a walking insult to anyone who looked upon him without even trying. Everything he did was politically incorrect.
The boy jumped in front of him, but Amri, totally arrogant, ignored him, and instead concentrated on blowing his bangs out of his eyes again, instead of simply tossing them with his head. He hadn't really been expecting the boy to throw a punch, but he did took it hard to the cheek. Being a very solid person, it wasn't enough to unbalance him, but it was enough to put a rather confused expression expression on his face. He raised a rough, callused hand to his cheek, and decided he could have fun with this too, "Six out of ten. Bony knuckles helped, but you need more of a twist." And of course, he was still standing right in front of him, so Amri took this opportunity to raise a leg and aim to kick him squarely in the gut and shove him back with the bottom of his foot.
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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Aug 13, 2009 17:12:28 GMT -8
x x i walk the borderline that divides me somewhere in my mind
Peregrine rolled his eyes. Now they were something special, if one was to talk about appearance. Stunning emerald green, intense, intelligent; they were usually the first thing someone noticed about him. They could betray so much emotion or hide so much. They were the windows into his soul, but they kept so much shut out. The rest of his family had blue eyes, which somehow did not hold the same brilliance as his green ones, no matter how much they argued to the contrary. They were oddly fitting, what with the rest of his unorthodox physical features—dark brown hair with traces of dark red and in the summertime, copper, in it. His skin was pale, or would have been pale, if the sun had not tanned it so, but still there, was a definitely olive quality to it, even in the depths of winter. He was scrawny, skinny even, his muscles wiry, as opposed to obvious, like his brother and his decidedly male cousin. His voice did not betray his age, but made him sound much younger than he actually was and he was rather youthful in his face, despite occasionally going without shaving for a day or two.
“I am not immature!” The prince insisted, indignantly. “I’m eighteen years of age, I’ll have you know.” He pointed out, drawing himself up to his full height, which, next to the average eighteen-year-old human male, wasn’t all that impressive. However, he towered over Amri, giving him his own, crooked-tooth smirk. “Try that one out for size, sword boy.” He said, satisfactorily. Something on the ground caught his gaze and he glanced down, noticing for the first time that Amri was barefoot and wriggling his toes. Giving the stranger a look of pure incomprehension, he shrugged and swung at him again. This game was becoming much to slow.
So, he had a long line of girls waiting to sleep with him, did he? Wonderful, Peregrine didn’t really care and he was growing weary of the topic. Besides, he hardly could see what women found so attractive about this man, except for perhaps, his big sword. d*** it, that had a double meaning. He smirked to himself. Perhaps he wasn’t so weary of the topic now that he had that witty comeback to fling at Amri when he was least expecting it, at a moment that was relevant to their conversation, of course.
“You’re so gay and you don’t even like boys.” He muttered, tossing his head so that his dark hair flipped out of his emerald, piercing eyes. He raised his fists and raised on eyebrow, as if to say, “okay coward, come and get me…I’m waiting”.
“Really?” Peregrine demanded, speaking out loud this time, “That’s interesting,” He raised his sleeve and wiped away the blood partially off his face. The flow was slowing now and was starting to dry, but he still looked a mess. “And I can’t order you around, why, exactly? I’m the—.” But he cut himself off, remembering that he was not to tell Amri of his true name or title.
The prince was quite irritated when the stranger did not fall over at his blow. Okay, so maybe he was better at fist-fighting than he was, but he also had more muscle and everyone had their flaws, didn’t they? Why even this guy had to have a weak point somewhere. “More of a twist? What are you rock?” He was starting to feel rather unnerved, worried as to what he was really fighting. A changeling, perhaps? A banshee, maybe. It wasn’t his fault he was slightly built, in fact, he rather liked being small, but then, he was thrown back by the force of Amri’s boot in his gut. Managing to stay on his feet this time, he staggered around for a minute before planting his feet on the ground and staring back at his opponent, scrowling.
“Who the hell are you?”
my shadow is the only one that walks beside me my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
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word count: 702 listening to: you're so gay by katy perry lyrics credit: boulevard of broken dreams by greenday mood: excellent, i think my muse just kicked back in for real notes: okay, so i'm cheating on the dialogue; "gay" was a medieval word meaning "to be happy", but whatever
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 14, 2009 9:04:52 GMT -8
He flashed a grin, and what a grin it was. Many people could claim that they had dazzling teeth, but his just looked so much brighter in contrast to his deeply tanned skin, which had been achieved both through genes and from spending a majority of his time out in the hot desert sun. He was at his prime, but because of his physical condition, he was sure his prime would last for many, many years. The only thing about his appearance that he truly despised was his eyes, but that was not because of how they looked. His whole life had been defined by those intense cat-like eyes, which were deep blue like the ocean but had more than one layer. They were what made him who he was, for without them, he wouldn't have been a curse. Maybe that was why he kept his bangs, to faintly hide the color of his eyes away from others, even though it didn't matter around here. No, no one would care about an obviously Arabic man having blue eyes, no one cared about the people of the desert, no one would know it was unheard of.
"Really? Eighteen?" he laughed a great, bellowing laugh, "So you're older than me?" This was great! He bet the boy had been thinking he was at least a few years older than him, but no, he had no excuse for being so weak in comparison. Amri, however, had been getting into serious fistfights since he was a toddler, fights in which he would've killed someone if he hadn't been stopped. He knew it as well as he knew breathing. So what if his right arm was injured? He could fight with a handicap and still come out on top no problem.
He ignored the comment about his size. It was really quite sad that that was the only thing he could come up with time and time again, and it wasn't even something that Amri could control, which showed that it was a desperate comeback. But then again, what could he go on about? He was stronger, more skilled in fighting, and extremely attractive. He had no reason to smirk, and d***...that was a weird smirk. He'd have to give him lessons, for he was the master.
Oh wait, he did have something else he could go on about, the fact that he thought Amri was gay. How original, it must have taken him days to think that one up. And of course, it stabbed Amri right in his heart. Heaven forbid some prissy eighteen-year-old call him gay. The world should just stop. How could he go on living? No, instead he smirked, "Are you really that desperate for me to swing that way? No matter how many times you wait on the line I'll just turn you down, sorry to break your little heart." Ah yes, the line. Such a line did exist for he did in fact have many invitations to do such a thing, but he was never interested. He didn't like girls that came onto him first.
How much of a sheltered brat was this boy to think he could order everyone around? Hell, kings couldn't order Amri. In the end, it was his own choice to do a job. If he didn't want to, he wouldn't. If he wanted to switch sides, he would. No one dictated his actions, for he was free man who could shove anyone around, and get whatever he wanted.
"Who am I?" he repeated with a chuckle, pointing the thumb of his left hand towards himself. He was worrying the boy now, wasn't he? "Oh, I'm just your average Joe." He ground his left fist into the palm of his right hand, "who happens to be the strongest man in the world." No, he didn't know that for certain, but he was pretty d*** sure. No one had ever come close to him in that category. No one could wield Banryuu the way he did. No one could spin the great blade over his head like it was just a stick the way Amri did. And he was just human.
"Now come on, fight me," he shouted, jumping forward but adding a spin so that when he landed, he would be able to quickly turn and give him a round-house kick with his right leg.
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