makesthings: (hiding)
Sameth, Wallmaker and Prince of the Old Kingdom ([personal profile] makesthings) wrote2009-12-01 07:08 pm
Entry tags:

At Somersby-Too Far from Home

The wind was blowing from the South and Sameth wished he could change it, but the Charter wasn't even there.

Today in class, Cochrane had been lecturing them on the merits of democracy and kept giving him pointed looks so that he had to try and speak up for monarchy.

It was horrible and he didn't do a good job of explaining things since so much of it depended on the Charter and explaining his family's hard history.

In the end, he didn't feel like much of a prince and going outside didn't help since nothing felt quite real enough.

So he ended up in his room staring down at a piece of paper and wishing for ideas, but all the things that he wanted to do needed the Charter.
wordofa_sayre: (smiling)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
"Away from the edge!" Nick yells. He's dangling over the drop now, with a solid grip on the slender span of the ladder and no foothold at all--

--and, incredibly, he's laughing.

"Told you the ladder was strong enough! It's the bloody catwalk that's the problem!""
wordofa_sayre: (Default)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
"Um, I'm still working on that," Nick admits.

One hand slips a little, and he hastily tries for a better grip.

"Got any suggestions?"
wordofa_sayre: (skeptical)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 03:02 am (UTC)(link)
"Good a thought as any--"

He swings back and forth a little, then reaches for the next rung, and the next.
wordofa_sayre: (lightning illumination)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
"Window," he gasps, as he stops moving from rung to rung and hangs still. "Before he gets up here. Can climb out that way, there's a ledge--"

Nick begins to swing back and forth, back and forth, picking up momentum in what looks like preparation for a jump.

"Just let me--"
wordofa_sayre: (lightning illumination)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
"No time," he snaps. "Look out, on three-- one--"

The ladder creaks with the force of his swing, and slips a little further down the bronze face of the bell.

"Two--"

--creak, slip--

"Three!"

As Nick launches himself forward into the air, toward the catwalk, Sameth's dire prediction comes true. The end of the ladder cracks and splinters against the bell, jerking Nick up shorter than he'd expected.

The result of this is that instead of getting enough forward momentum to slam into the stone wall and let it take some of the force of his landing, it's the already-overstrained catwalk that takes the brunt of it as he crashes into Sameth, instead.

Wood shatters under them, and the two young men go tumbling down in a wild flailing spiral of arms and legs, landing with a crash on the stairs below amid a storm of broken boards and splintered pieces of what used to be the bell tower catwalk.
wordofa_sayre: (slightly sheepish)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
"We're all right, sir, thanks for asking."

Nick winces as he struggles upright, brushing wood chips from his school uniform, and then directs a cheerfully brazen grin at Marks.

"Good thing Sam and I happened to find that weak spot on the catwalk, eh? Someone might have been hurt going up to ring the bell!"
wordofa_sayre: (slightly sheepish)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
This time Nick's wince has nothing to do with his bruises. Still, he rallies aand tries again.

"It was locked?" he starts, only to be cut short by an inarticulate noise as Marks swells up, turning purple with temper, at which point the Games Master steps out from behind Marks and glares them both before turning to Sameth.

"I'm pleased to hear that you have an interest in something, your Highness," Cochrane spits. "We'll have to see if we can occupy your time in putting it to use."
wordofa_sayre: (slightly sheepish)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
"Quite right."

He hastily finishes dusting off his jacket with overlarge movements, trying to distract Cochrane's attention from Sam.

"Before we start cleaning this up, we'll just nip on over to the infirmary, sir -- have Sam here checked over before the big match coming up, you know. If that's all right?"
wordofa_sayre: (slightly sheepish)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
"Yes, sir," Nick agrees, not moving, trying to discreetly signal Sam to stay still, too. "Thank you, sir."

At hearing this, Marks sputters and protests,

"Cochrane, you can't possibly be serious-- you're just going to let them get away with--"

The Games Master turns on him with a snarl.

"Are you questioning my judgment?"
wordofa_sayre: (questioning)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Door," Nick mutters back, out of the corner of his mouth. "Go. Now."

He backs one step toward the door, then another, keeping a careful eye on the argument as he moves.
wordofa_sayre: (slightly sheepish)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 04:36 am (UTC)(link)
The rest of the students, not having any wish to end up as targets of the teachers' anger, have started to disperse.

Nick holds his breath, takes three more steps back, and turns to dart through the door after Sam.

It's just his bad luck that a broken piece of wood cracks under his foot as he does, bringing Marks's head around with a jerk.

"SAYRE!"

"Yes sir -- infirmary, right now, absolutely -- " Nick hastily sketches a half-bow to Cochrane, then without waiting for an answer, bolts the rest of the way through the door.

"Run for it!"
wordofa_sayre: (sideways grin)

[personal profile] wordofa_sayre 2010-01-09 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
"Suits me."

Nick claps him on the shoulder in turn, grinning.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."