Sword in the Stone [Jeq vs stone/sword]

Jequirity Eckhart

tired mechanical heart

Crack!

I fall to the ground with a squeal as the rock cracks, the earth shakes, and my ankle twists uncomfortably beneath my weight. But the sword stays securely in my grasp. Mine. For a moment everything around me is chaos. And in that moment, I flee. My ankle protests and though I'm beginning to grow light headed from the blood loss I know better than to relent to the pain or the dizziness. I take a deep breath, clutch the hilt of the sword in my hands and run as fast as my screaming ankle will let me.

By the time the rumbling and shaking has stopped I've rolled off the edge of the stage again, away from the harp, away from the rocks, away from the people who want to kill me Away, away, away. I'm shaking again as the cool air, wind, and sleet beat through my clothing. I send a silent curse to the Gamemakers again and pray to Ripred a pair of pants falls from the sky.

I collapse to the ground, hiding myself as tactfully as I can in such flat land. One, two, three deep breaths in and I'm feeling better, calmer. I glance at the sword at my side. It shimmers as the sleet melts against the blade. It's magnificent. I can still hear the sound of the harp's mournful tune in the distance. The sound of the wind rushing past my ears and crashing waves in the distance melds well with the song. I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the peace music brings me. I smile.

But as the cold seeps into my toes, numbing them through the boots on my feet, I realize it's time to get down to business. I unbuckle my belt and wrap it around the gash in my leg, tightening it until I can't take anymore. My blood-stained shirt looks worse now that it has plastered itself to the blood that has leaked all over my torso, but I have nothing to clean it with. I stare at my bloodied hands for a moment before moving on. Stitching will have to wait.

I move on to the rucksack I had grabbed earlier, sifting through it to find nothing but an L-shaped rod of some sort. I twirl it in my hands. Try to bend it into a different shape. Stick it in the ground. What the fuck is this?! I growl at the thing, but it's clearly not easily intimidated. I toss it aside, not wanting to waste space on something so useless. But --- I swear on my entire family --- the thing calls out to me the instant I let go of it.

I reach for it tentatively. This time when I lift it, I let it swing gently in my hand. The mist that had once been covering the arena in a dense fog shifts in front of me, twisting almost mystically into the form of a woman. I blink. But she's still there even after I've rubbed my eyes. Using my spear as a crutch to pull myself from the ground, I take a step towards the figure only to have her disappear.

What--- who---?

I pick my rucksack off the ground and throw it over my shoulder, lacing my spear through the handle at the top of the bag. I hold the rod steady in my hand and let the sword drag across the ground as I make my way slowly towards where the silver lady has reappeared once more. But as I get closer, she disappears again. The rod twists in my hand, begging for my undivided attention. But the woman, she---

The rod twists again in my hand and I follow it. The lady reappears and I dart after her, getting close enough that I could almost touch her, only to have her disappear into the mist again. I follow the wishes of the rod for what seems like hours. This is hopeless. Why am I letting a stupid, useless metal rod guide me? I drop to my knees with a huff. What am I doing?

Why am I even trying? Everyone knows that I'll be dead soon anyway. Even I know! So why the hell am I trying so hard?

That's when the woman appears before me.

She's silver, beautiful, floating before me with an air of elegance I thought could only be achieved by my mothers and musical instruments. I drop my sword at my side, staring blankly at the figure as she transforms before me. I flinch as a wave of hot breath hits me in the face, blowing the my hair astray. I gasp as I stare into the nostrils of a giant beast. it glows silver like the woman had before, but now it was a large, furry, four-legged, muscle-y beast with eyes that glowed silver.

I held my breath as it stretched its neck, sniffing at my hair. It drew back and huffed almost as if it was offended by my smell, blowing specks of what I could only assume was the equivalent of saliva across my face. Thank you, Mr. Furry Animal, sir. Just please don't kill me. I let out a sigh of relief and wipe my face in my sleeve. We stare at each other for a few moments longer, his silver eyes blinking at me. His eyelashes sparkle when he blinks. Whatever he was, he was handsome.

Slowly --- so, so slowly --- I lift my hand. My pale skin nearly matches his own silver fur. But his was clearly more beautiful than my own. Much more welcoming, kind. There weren't jagged scars across his skin or gashes across his chest. Do I even deserve to pet such a creature? I unfold my hand in front of his face and before I can even slip my hand away in remorse, he pushes his head into my palm. His fur doesn't feel like fur but something even softer. Something heavenly.

I ruffle his fur; he gives a sort of elated snort.

I smile.

beats 'til the song disappears