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The One-Man Brawl
The sun had finally set, and it enveloped everything around us in a blanket of darkness. But our path was clear in sight for it was lit by the moon. It was alone tonight, but it was enough to décor the night sky. Its facet was beguiling that you would not think of it as a mere cold orb of craters and dust up close.
The moon was similar in a way to Felix. At first glance, you would see how every features of his face were perfect altogether. But as you watched him for a long period of time, you would know that he was nothing but a jagged rock.
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“Here.” Michael handed me his letters for Hana. They were five in total, and I hid all to the pocket I sewn on the back of my winter cloak. It was purposely for their letters. “Are you writing for her every day?” “I just want her to know that I am still here.”
Mathilda The Man with an Ego
On my mind, I was playing the scene yesterday, ignoring the reverberating invocation. “I have a match. With Gabriel.” Felix answered me.
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According to John, the knights were accustomed with man-to-man combat, and it meant that it was normal for them to see someone striking, grappling, throwing, and even slashing until bled, one of them. It had always been like that for years, it was a piece of their culture, and it had birth them their egos. Their society shaped them on how to think about something, and how to act towards something. We have to think like this and we have to act like that, because we are knights, it was generally their expectations of themselves, their own definition of masculinity and maleness, and they were oblivious of it.
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If they will not listen to me, they will listen to someone who has power, I thought before I let myself in the Chapter-house. There were three people inside the room, and it included Mother Renata, and two of her most trusted council sisters. It seemed that they were in a middle of an important discussion, for both of the council sisters eyed me like I was a horror in plain sight. But, unlike them, Mother Renata was ever calmed.
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The floor of the room squeaked as the damp rag drift on it like a raging stream. Every move was followed by a grunting sound, it sounded faint from probably exhaustion, but the swift of the cloth never faltered. “You missed a spot.” Abigail said. She was sat on a cushioned chair, and both of her feet were resting on a wooden crate. She even had a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice on her lap. She was enjoying her wish.
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“Where have you been last night?” Agnes asked with her stern voice. “I told you, I looked for the book back at the common room, but there were lots of group of knights patrolling around, so I had to wait for them to go before I could go back.” “Where is the book then?”
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