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Posted on April 8, 2011 at 04:29:22 PM by tristan and celidon
Tristan began to take a couple of steps backwards, away from the door, as he worked out that his brother intended to open it. However, apparently the young boy had not moved fast enough nor further enough, and as the wooden door was pushed open, Tristan felt it impact with his forehead. Next thing he knew, he was toppling backwards and eventually landed, very hard, on his back in a heap on the floor. Within seconds Celidon had raced over and began licking his fairy’s face excitedly, his long tail wagging erratically. The boy petted his green dog on the shoulder before pushing him in the middle of the chest, a sign which Cel knew meant that he should back off for a few moments. Tristan looked up at his brother, his mouth set in a determined line, as much as his head and back hurt he was not going to cry, not in front of Gawain. “Ow!” he said simply, reaching up with a hand to rub his forehead. He hoped it would not leave a bruise, because if it did he knew that his father would ask him where it had come from. As much sibling rivalry as there was between the two, Tristan was not a snitch and would have to come up with some other story to explain his injury. Celidon took the opportunity presented by the proceeding pause to leap forwards and dance around Gawain’s legs in the never-ending quest the puppy seemed to have for capturing attention, ignorant to the glares he was receiving from the older boy. Tristan used the same opportunity in order to pull himself to his feet. As much as Gawain took after his mother’s side of the family, Tristan took after his father’s. He was about average height for his age, but was also stockier than most, his frame being wider rather than cushioned by fat. His green eyes were more like those of his Grandmother than his mother, and everything else about him, from the pale skin, to the light-brown hair with its casual natural wave was unmistakably inherited from Arthur. “Oh,” he said in reply to his brother’s declaration, “qui sonne bien.” He grinned at his sibling, displaying some of the self-satisfied arrogance which had begun to creep more and more into his personality. Arthur, being a man of the time in which he had first lived, believed that it was vital that Princes receive an education, even in Shaman. The learning of languages, the King had reasoned, even if not particularly useful in this fairy world, did install a certain discipline in the pupil. Tristan had shown himself to have a mind like a sponge, and was able to pick up such things with irritating ease. Part of the reason why the reading he had been given had not lasted as long as it was supposed to have done. “Don’t mind,” he replied with a yawn, wandering back over to the window seat with Celidon trotting along devotedly at his heals, “just not chess, or anything involving books,” and with that he cast a resentful look at the items scattered across the wooden floorboards which now separated him from his sibling. second son of arthur and lilith, prince of shaman. |
Replies:
- Sing it for the ones that'll hate your guts - By Gawain April 12, 2011 at 01:27:11 AM
- may it be, when darkness falls - By tristan and celidon April 27, 2011 at 01:41:32 AM
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