Post by Ferric Nayamasa on Jan 24, 2019 8:43:22 GMT -5
Place. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Place. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Place. Draw. Aim. Fire..
Breathe.
Ferric took a moment to breathe, and quell the shivers running up his burning hand. Aura or not, there was only so many times a hand could be put through the same motions again and again before the strain started to take hold on the skin and flesh behind it. The bow sitting in Nayamasa's hand as he stood on the edge of the estate was not Karasu-Tengu, lacked it's elegant curves and electric dust augmentation, it's cool red coloration, and it's transformative capabilities. This was a typical wooden bow of the type often used by travelers and villages for self-defence and Archery students for training purposes.
Nayamasa's last evaluation had been promising. 100 shots and 98 bulls-eyes, with 2 of those being body shots. Even at close range, this was considered to be something of a statistical marvel.
Nayamasa snorted. The Haven academy "Evaluations"... he remembered them now. his own pre-registration had come with some attention due to his pedigree. a pair of men who walked with expressions so stiff and egos so high you'd think they were on the same level as the teachers of Haven academy, though Ferric could tell from a few looks that these ones weren't hunters, had never trained to be hunters. The sparks in a hunter- the sparks that he'd seen so often within his family - were missing from their every lax movement and lazy motion. Still, they knew enough to be honored to be shown the strength of the Nayamasa legacy.
Of course, part of the reason they'd showed up at the fading estate wasn't to enjoy the honor of seeing the strongest clan's finest example of a hunter's prowess. Part of it was because they clearly believed that said prowess was faked, that Nayamasa Ferric was nothing more than a deluded child trying to live up to a legacy that they believed to fade with the times. That his aura had been too low when he was younger for him to manage a hunter's workload, a hunter's requirements, in current life.
How amusing for Ferric that they then called him "genius", then.
Place. Draw. Aim. Clench the teeth. Draw again. Aim.fire. The arrows continued flying as Nayamasa breathed out.
Ferric was never a genius. Until his clan's fall, he had no interest in being a hunter, and his family had never seen any reason to push a talent-less kid to do something he was never cut out for.
He was no genius - He was a Nayamasa. Something infinitely better, and utterly incomprehensible to such small-minded men.
Place. Place. Place.. Grip properly.
Draw. Aim. Clench the teeth. Fire.
They had praised the young Nayamasa with broad smiles and promises of future winnings. They told him how talented he truly was. that he'd have an easy time at the academy. They told him other things too, but between those sweet words they only told Nayamasa two important pieces of information.
Firstly: There was a tournament going on tomorrow. one he might just be able to attend, as a spectator if not a competitor.
Secondly: These miscreants posing in their suits and with their papers had no understanding, of Ferric, hunters, or their own failings. They they were nothing to Ferric, and meaningless to him either in improving his own combat skills or in bringing prestige to the Nayamasa name. As a result, they were swiftly dismissed from the grounds of his estate, giving Nayamasa more time to prepare for the upcoming tournament.
Place. Place. Place. Hold. Stop Shaking. Grip. Grip. Grip.
Breathe.
As Nayamasa slowly sat down, looking at the arrow he had just dropped from shaking fingers with a frown, he couldn't help but think about what Percy would think of this. He could practically hear the lecture he would get on this one - The irritated glance that would accompany it, and the worried look she thought he didn't notice flashed as soon as his back was turned, the flash of fear and concern that always stabbed at Nayamasas nerves far more than he ever let on.
Shaking his head, he wondered when he'd grown to retain such unimportant data, such meaningless information. The nagging thought that he spent far too much time thinking about the opinion of another nagged at him, but like always, he couldn't manage to find the energy to listen to it.
With a harsh slap to his own hand, he stopped the shaking.
Nayamasa Ferric took another deep breath, and inspected his hand more closely. Red droplets flitted out among the greenery, landing in a consistent drip among Nayamasa's lawn, feeding the plantlife once again with Ferric's own sweat and tears.
The tired hunter-in-training sighed.
98 out of 100. An intolerable imperfection. Still, he imagined it would be even more intolerable if he showed even worse injury to Persephone later. Depending on her mood, he was quite sure she'd yell, or smack him, as no other human had ever done, and got away with, to Nayamasa's irritation.
Or... she might tear up. The thought bothered the young archer far more than he would ever admit, and more than his imperfect record ever could.
So instead of continuing to train, as he should, and work his body to it's limits, as was his responsibility, Ferric ran his free hand through his hair after putting the bow down, heading inside, and looking for the familiar roll of bandages he made sure his house always stocked, as he prepared to bind this newest in a series of self-inflicted injuries. The practice certainly wasn't something Nayamasa was unused to, nor was it one he was ashamed of. To him, his scars represented everything he'd done, every torture he'd put his body through, and every ounce of effort that went into turning someone who used to be average into the most dangerous hunter on remnant - though that last bit was still a work in progress.
The strain had never gotten easier, the pain had never gotten weaker, but...
Nayamasa stood before a familiar cabinet in a dusty old estate, filled with fine furniture, Lovely curtains, and a detailed white-and-black checkerboard pattern to the marble. He rummaged through the drawers with one hand, looking for a bandage roll relying on touch alone, but his eyes were focused elsewhere.
A simple photo, put in the place it would give him the most motivation.
A picture of himself, his parents, and his sister.
A bloodied hand clenched itself into a fist as he stared at the picture.
I will make sure every man, woman, and child knows we were the greatest hunters in the world! Until then, Nayamasa Ferric yields to no one and nothing!
A sharp, stinging pain manages to register somewhat through his aura as something pricks the young Nayamasa heir. Scissors. In the drawer.
The trainee sighed, before properly resting his gaze on the drawer, and properly looking for the bandages this time - using his eyes, and avoiding the pointy objects.
It was going to be a long road.
Place. Draw. Aim. Fire.
Place. Draw. Aim. Fire..
Breathe.
Ferric took a moment to breathe, and quell the shivers running up his burning hand. Aura or not, there was only so many times a hand could be put through the same motions again and again before the strain started to take hold on the skin and flesh behind it. The bow sitting in Nayamasa's hand as he stood on the edge of the estate was not Karasu-Tengu, lacked it's elegant curves and electric dust augmentation, it's cool red coloration, and it's transformative capabilities. This was a typical wooden bow of the type often used by travelers and villages for self-defence and Archery students for training purposes.
Nayamasa's last evaluation had been promising. 100 shots and 98 bulls-eyes, with 2 of those being body shots. Even at close range, this was considered to be something of a statistical marvel.
Nayamasa snorted. The Haven academy "Evaluations"... he remembered them now. his own pre-registration had come with some attention due to his pedigree. a pair of men who walked with expressions so stiff and egos so high you'd think they were on the same level as the teachers of Haven academy, though Ferric could tell from a few looks that these ones weren't hunters, had never trained to be hunters. The sparks in a hunter- the sparks that he'd seen so often within his family - were missing from their every lax movement and lazy motion. Still, they knew enough to be honored to be shown the strength of the Nayamasa legacy.
Of course, part of the reason they'd showed up at the fading estate wasn't to enjoy the honor of seeing the strongest clan's finest example of a hunter's prowess. Part of it was because they clearly believed that said prowess was faked, that Nayamasa Ferric was nothing more than a deluded child trying to live up to a legacy that they believed to fade with the times. That his aura had been too low when he was younger for him to manage a hunter's workload, a hunter's requirements, in current life.
How amusing for Ferric that they then called him "genius", then.
Place. Draw. Aim. Clench the teeth. Draw again. Aim.fire. The arrows continued flying as Nayamasa breathed out.
Ferric was never a genius. Until his clan's fall, he had no interest in being a hunter, and his family had never seen any reason to push a talent-less kid to do something he was never cut out for.
He was no genius - He was a Nayamasa. Something infinitely better, and utterly incomprehensible to such small-minded men.
Place. Place. Place.. Grip properly.
Draw. Aim. Clench the teeth. Fire.
They had praised the young Nayamasa with broad smiles and promises of future winnings. They told him how talented he truly was. that he'd have an easy time at the academy. They told him other things too, but between those sweet words they only told Nayamasa two important pieces of information.
Firstly: There was a tournament going on tomorrow. one he might just be able to attend, as a spectator if not a competitor.
Secondly: These miscreants posing in their suits and with their papers had no understanding, of Ferric, hunters, or their own failings. They they were nothing to Ferric, and meaningless to him either in improving his own combat skills or in bringing prestige to the Nayamasa name. As a result, they were swiftly dismissed from the grounds of his estate, giving Nayamasa more time to prepare for the upcoming tournament.
Place. Place. Place. Hold. Stop Shaking. Grip. Grip. Grip.
Breathe.
As Nayamasa slowly sat down, looking at the arrow he had just dropped from shaking fingers with a frown, he couldn't help but think about what Percy would think of this. He could practically hear the lecture he would get on this one - The irritated glance that would accompany it, and the worried look she thought he didn't notice flashed as soon as his back was turned, the flash of fear and concern that always stabbed at Nayamasas nerves far more than he ever let on.
Shaking his head, he wondered when he'd grown to retain such unimportant data, such meaningless information. The nagging thought that he spent far too much time thinking about the opinion of another nagged at him, but like always, he couldn't manage to find the energy to listen to it.
With a harsh slap to his own hand, he stopped the shaking.
Nayamasa Ferric took another deep breath, and inspected his hand more closely. Red droplets flitted out among the greenery, landing in a consistent drip among Nayamasa's lawn, feeding the plantlife once again with Ferric's own sweat and tears.
The tired hunter-in-training sighed.
98 out of 100. An intolerable imperfection. Still, he imagined it would be even more intolerable if he showed even worse injury to Persephone later. Depending on her mood, he was quite sure she'd yell, or smack him, as no other human had ever done, and got away with, to Nayamasa's irritation.
Or... she might tear up. The thought bothered the young archer far more than he would ever admit, and more than his imperfect record ever could.
So instead of continuing to train, as he should, and work his body to it's limits, as was his responsibility, Ferric ran his free hand through his hair after putting the bow down, heading inside, and looking for the familiar roll of bandages he made sure his house always stocked, as he prepared to bind this newest in a series of self-inflicted injuries. The practice certainly wasn't something Nayamasa was unused to, nor was it one he was ashamed of. To him, his scars represented everything he'd done, every torture he'd put his body through, and every ounce of effort that went into turning someone who used to be average into the most dangerous hunter on remnant - though that last bit was still a work in progress.
The strain had never gotten easier, the pain had never gotten weaker, but...
Nayamasa stood before a familiar cabinet in a dusty old estate, filled with fine furniture, Lovely curtains, and a detailed white-and-black checkerboard pattern to the marble. He rummaged through the drawers with one hand, looking for a bandage roll relying on touch alone, but his eyes were focused elsewhere.
A simple photo, put in the place it would give him the most motivation.
A picture of himself, his parents, and his sister.
A bloodied hand clenched itself into a fist as he stared at the picture.
I will make sure every man, woman, and child knows we were the greatest hunters in the world! Until then, Nayamasa Ferric yields to no one and nothing!
A sharp, stinging pain manages to register somewhat through his aura as something pricks the young Nayamasa heir. Scissors. In the drawer.
The trainee sighed, before properly resting his gaze on the drawer, and properly looking for the bandages this time - using his eyes, and avoiding the pointy objects.
It was going to be a long road.