[ rand comes across an achamite guard by nearly bowling into him.
which he hadn't expected, or really wanted — he'd just heard the tell-tale sounds of violence and ran to intervene. it's just, these are civilians. it's just, none of them asked for the regent to sweep in and single out someone to murder for a spectacle, to get at the pleroma. it's just, getting drunk and argumentative — common, here, where people are already plenty combative while sober — doesn't deserve a beating from one of the regent's men.
and this man, this guard, already has his sword unsheathed. he assumes the boy running at him means violence, or maybe he doesn't care either way. the people of godsblood are so mouthy, and they've forgotten who their betters are. so he swings his blade, and rand has his father's sword drawn before he knows what's happening. thank the light for yuuta's lessons, rand's feet and his hands seeming to know what to do before his brain can keep up. there's a flurry of activity — he won't remember much of it later, just panicked attempts at defending, a spill of blood as the guard strikes at his sword arm, seeing an opening and,
and,
striking, dumbfounded when his sword isn't parried, when it hits its mark. he freezes and reels back a few steps, but it's too late. ]
no subject
which he hadn't expected, or really wanted — he'd just heard the tell-tale sounds of violence and ran to intervene. it's just, these are civilians. it's just, none of them asked for the regent to sweep in and single out someone to murder for a spectacle, to get at the pleroma. it's just, getting drunk and argumentative — common, here, where people are already plenty combative while sober — doesn't deserve a beating from one of the regent's men.
and this man, this guard, already has his sword unsheathed. he assumes the boy running at him means violence, or maybe he doesn't care either way. the people of godsblood are so mouthy, and they've forgotten who their betters are. so he swings his blade, and rand has his father's sword drawn before he knows what's happening. thank the light for yuuta's lessons, rand's feet and his hands seeming to know what to do before his brain can keep up. there's a flurry of activity — he won't remember much of it later, just panicked attempts at defending, a spill of blood as the guard strikes at his sword arm, seeing an opening and,
and,
striking, dumbfounded when his sword isn't parried, when it hits its mark. he freezes and reels back a few steps, but it's too late. ]