hey orion...
Aug. 15th, 2007 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wellownedbkupi'm getting so wrapped up in this fic that i can't even focus, dammit! i'm sekritly looking up how to be an assassin. and how to train a slave. and there's like... NO PORN IN IT WHATSOEVER. how is this possible??? i'm like... one of those cheesy PPV stations--all porn, all the time. this is weird. and what's worse is there's not even any slash. *is all woe* no slash?!?! the box, she is broken out of and trashed totally.
but yes, i should be focusing on like... anything else. like this presentation i have to give. or my essay on why i should be allowed to drop that pas art history class. again. cause. yeah. i suck. didn't go after a coupla times and just... sheesh. just missed the drop deadline. WHY?
i just. i need rest. i don't need to have the trip to england popping up right now when i'm working 2 jobs and going to school fulltime and I DON'T THINK I CAN TAKE THIS. *has a breakdown* *sniff*
i just. yeah.
so. to be helpful.... here's a snippet. introducing the...
The Thrale had an empire that rivaled the Noi's. What the Thrale lacked in power was boren up by the excelling tactical prowess of his military commanders. The Thrale was subversive, tantalizing recruits through clever speech and propaganda. The Noi prided himself on an army that could swallow a battlefield with its numbers. Those who were not loyal by choice were loyal by force. The Thrale could only boast a third of those numbers, but each man made a willing choice to serve. It was, above all else, an honor to fight for the Thrale.
The Noi made each of his assassin slaves unique. Though some of their methods were the same, each was specifically deadly. They noticed it first with Dannaii.
In training, the boy was nothing if not hesitant. More often than not, the others preyed on that weakness, shoving his face squarely in the dirt of the training ring. Even she didn't hold back, though he saw the guilt on her face in the barracks after. In time, though, something happened.
Another bigger slave was being rougher than necessary, carelessly beating Dannaii, as if it would gain him some favor for being crueler. They rolled and tussled, blood dripping from cuts along the slighter boy's jaw. She saw it happening, saw Dannaii's hands creep up to the other's throat. She saw it, knowing the others saw it too. Dannaii calmly began to squeeze the boy's throat, tightening his fingers with each wheezing breath from his opponent, until there was nothing more.
The Noi never punished Dannaii, giving their training a new feel of 'survival of the fittest'. A kill or be killed mentality swept them, honing them into what their master wanted. Making them into tools of his empire.
She watche Dannaii carefully thereafter, trying to gauge how he coped. Late, in their barracks, she crawled into the low cot beside him. He looked so small, reminding her that they were still just children. She grabbed his hand tightly, feeling the soft soft damy skin of his palm pressing and catching against her own callused one. Not a word was said. All night, she lay there, eyes staring into the dark at where his face would be, offering what comfort she could.
but yes, i should be focusing on like... anything else. like this presentation i have to give. or my essay on why i should be allowed to drop that pas art history class. again. cause. yeah. i suck. didn't go after a coupla times and just... sheesh. just missed the drop deadline. WHY?
i just. i need rest. i don't need to have the trip to england popping up right now when i'm working 2 jobs and going to school fulltime and I DON'T THINK I CAN TAKE THIS. *has a breakdown* *sniff*
i just. yeah.
so. to be helpful.... here's a snippet. introducing the...
The Thrale had an empire that rivaled the Noi's. What the Thrale lacked in power was boren up by the excelling tactical prowess of his military commanders. The Thrale was subversive, tantalizing recruits through clever speech and propaganda. The Noi prided himself on an army that could swallow a battlefield with its numbers. Those who were not loyal by choice were loyal by force. The Thrale could only boast a third of those numbers, but each man made a willing choice to serve. It was, above all else, an honor to fight for the Thrale.
The Noi made each of his assassin slaves unique. Though some of their methods were the same, each was specifically deadly. They noticed it first with Dannaii.
In training, the boy was nothing if not hesitant. More often than not, the others preyed on that weakness, shoving his face squarely in the dirt of the training ring. Even she didn't hold back, though he saw the guilt on her face in the barracks after. In time, though, something happened.
Another bigger slave was being rougher than necessary, carelessly beating Dannaii, as if it would gain him some favor for being crueler. They rolled and tussled, blood dripping from cuts along the slighter boy's jaw. She saw it happening, saw Dannaii's hands creep up to the other's throat. She saw it, knowing the others saw it too. Dannaii calmly began to squeeze the boy's throat, tightening his fingers with each wheezing breath from his opponent, until there was nothing more.
The Noi never punished Dannaii, giving their training a new feel of 'survival of the fittest'. A kill or be killed mentality swept them, honing them into what their master wanted. Making them into tools of his empire.
She watche Dannaii carefully thereafter, trying to gauge how he coped. Late, in their barracks, she crawled into the low cot beside him. He looked so small, reminding her that they were still just children. She grabbed his hand tightly, feeling the soft soft damy skin of his palm pressing and catching against her own callused one. Not a word was said. All night, she lay there, eyes staring into the dark at where his face would be, offering what comfort she could.
