N0X
Well-Known Member
Saoirse awoke to silence. Something warm supported her head. A warm blanket covered her. She tried to make sense of the mumbling conversation and where she was to no avail. A dull pain ached through her entire body. The hand that caressed her hair was warm and comforting. She didn't want it to stop, but it did, and affectionately squeezed her shoulder. They knew she was awake. Saoirse opened her eyes, squinting at the light, and stared at her old Master's face; Rowan. He was well built for a graying man.
Master Rowan was legendary, and he was much older and powerful than any of the students could know. Saoirse had done her own digging about him throughout the years, and only found that he was one of the Immortals, but no more. It was as if he had been deliberately erased from the history books. Saoirse realized her teammates were also there, hovering over the bed. They were in the medical wing of the school. "Everyone," she croaked.
"Saoirse! You're alive!" A tall, blonde-haired, blue eyed boy shouted; Clark. Saoirse flinched at the sudden noise, and someone whacked him on the back of the head. "Ow!" His eyes were puffy and red, as though he had been crying. Saoirse realized her entire body was covered in bandages, and sighed.
"What happened to me?"
"You were thrown into a deathtrap and got hurt," Radella, a tan, red-haired girl with golden eyes spoke first, then added, "badly."
"We thought you were a goner," Neil, a tall, tan, muscular boy with sharp ears and wild hair added. His eyes were brown, and warm.
Then, her Master finally spoke kindly. "You've been out for a few hours. How do you feel?"
Saoirse tried to remember what happened. They were in the hyperdome, playing hyperball. It was an aggressive, contact team sport where two teams used staves to shoot pucks into each other's score circle while battling each other and avoiding traps on the field. Players earn notoriety for knocking out opponents, scoring points, and impressing the crowd with violence and skill. It was the ultimate test of speed, strength, stamina, and skill, and were allowed to use their self-enhancing abilities in any way they desired to win. It was a dangerous sport and all members had to be at least a tier 3 to play. Saoirse was at tier 2. She vaguely recalled being thrown into one particularly deadly trap by an opposing player before everything went black.
"Like shit," she groaned. This drew chuckles from them all, and the ice was broken. "Did we lose?" The question caused a heavy silence. "I take it as a yes," Saoirse lamented. "Damn. Sorry for causing trouble...."
"You're not causing trouble!" Clark tried his best to be quieter, managing only just. Saoirse smiled at his effort while still squinting at his high pitched voice.
"If getting rid of you was that easy, we would have thought of it a long time ago," Neil joked, drawing a chuckle from the bed ridden girl.
"Yeah, it's not your fault," Radella said, matter-of-factually, "It's Neil's. He was supposed to cover you when you ran the ball, but as usual--."
"What?! My fault? You were the one that let that bastard Sloane slip past you. If it weren't for--."
Sensing an argument, Master Rowan began to usher them out. "That is enough. Out, the lot of you. Saoirse will be needing quiet and rest."
"How bad's the damage, doc?" Saoirse asked.
"Luckily, no broken bones," Master Rowan said, "but your entire rib cage is cracked and bruised. Your back took the worst of it."
"It doesn't hurt much," she lied.
"That's a very good sign. They'll discharge you in the morning, if that is truly the case." There was deep worry in his green eyes. It was clear he did not fall for her bluff.
Saoirse smiled wryly. "Wow. Lucky me. I'll have to enjoy my vacation to the medical wing for as long as I can. Then we can continue my training as if nothing ever happened." The tense silence that followed gave her the impression there was something he wanted to tell her. "What is it, Master?"
"Perhaps," he spoke slowly, as if weighing each word before saying it, "it is best to put off your training. For now."
"What?" Saoirse's brows pulled together.
"I've also spoken to Coach Mor. He thinks it's a good idea to give you a break from the team."
"WHAT?! NO!" Saoirse sat up, and quickly regretted it as red hot pain shot through her back, and she collapsed back on the bed, panting and sweating. She underestimated what Master Rowan had said about her wounds.
"You could have been killed, Saoirse...."
"But I--."
"You're not ready, Saoirse. Coach Mor was foolish to think that you could be at Tier 2. My own hopes for you clouded my judgement. I shouldn't have given you permission."
"This. Isn't. Fair!"
"Sometimes I forget you're still just a child. We can pick back up where we left off next semester--."
"Next semester!? You've got to be joking! That's six months away! What am I supposed to do until then?"
"Focus on your classes," Master Rowan shrugged, "you are not performing as well as you could be. I believe I've been robbing you of a proper education for quite some time, now."
Most students do not receive private lessons from a Master until after they've graduated. Saoirse knew that Master Rowan was making an exception with her, that he was giving her special treatment. She was talented. Gifted in ways most students only dreamed of. Saoirse squinted at him, sensing there was more to all of this than the eyes could meet.
"No. There's something you're not telling me."
For the first time, Master Rowan appeared to be his age. He paused and watched her dark eyes piercing through him. He sometimes forgot her intuitive gifts allowed her to see through the truth of things. But he could not bring himself to tell her, yet. Saoirse wasn't ready to hear it.
Rowan placed a gentle hand on her hot forehead. "Get some rest," he said. "We'll talk about this when you're discharged."
@Moose
Master Rowan was legendary, and he was much older and powerful than any of the students could know. Saoirse had done her own digging about him throughout the years, and only found that he was one of the Immortals, but no more. It was as if he had been deliberately erased from the history books. Saoirse realized her teammates were also there, hovering over the bed. They were in the medical wing of the school. "Everyone," she croaked.
"Saoirse! You're alive!" A tall, blonde-haired, blue eyed boy shouted; Clark. Saoirse flinched at the sudden noise, and someone whacked him on the back of the head. "Ow!" His eyes were puffy and red, as though he had been crying. Saoirse realized her entire body was covered in bandages, and sighed.
"What happened to me?"
"You were thrown into a deathtrap and got hurt," Radella, a tan, red-haired girl with golden eyes spoke first, then added, "badly."
"We thought you were a goner," Neil, a tall, tan, muscular boy with sharp ears and wild hair added. His eyes were brown, and warm.
Then, her Master finally spoke kindly. "You've been out for a few hours. How do you feel?"
Saoirse tried to remember what happened. They were in the hyperdome, playing hyperball. It was an aggressive, contact team sport where two teams used staves to shoot pucks into each other's score circle while battling each other and avoiding traps on the field. Players earn notoriety for knocking out opponents, scoring points, and impressing the crowd with violence and skill. It was the ultimate test of speed, strength, stamina, and skill, and were allowed to use their self-enhancing abilities in any way they desired to win. It was a dangerous sport and all members had to be at least a tier 3 to play. Saoirse was at tier 2. She vaguely recalled being thrown into one particularly deadly trap by an opposing player before everything went black.
"Like shit," she groaned. This drew chuckles from them all, and the ice was broken. "Did we lose?" The question caused a heavy silence. "I take it as a yes," Saoirse lamented. "Damn. Sorry for causing trouble...."
"You're not causing trouble!" Clark tried his best to be quieter, managing only just. Saoirse smiled at his effort while still squinting at his high pitched voice.
"If getting rid of you was that easy, we would have thought of it a long time ago," Neil joked, drawing a chuckle from the bed ridden girl.
"Yeah, it's not your fault," Radella said, matter-of-factually, "It's Neil's. He was supposed to cover you when you ran the ball, but as usual--."
"What?! My fault? You were the one that let that bastard Sloane slip past you. If it weren't for--."
Sensing an argument, Master Rowan began to usher them out. "That is enough. Out, the lot of you. Saoirse will be needing quiet and rest."
"How bad's the damage, doc?" Saoirse asked.
"Luckily, no broken bones," Master Rowan said, "but your entire rib cage is cracked and bruised. Your back took the worst of it."
"It doesn't hurt much," she lied.
"That's a very good sign. They'll discharge you in the morning, if that is truly the case." There was deep worry in his green eyes. It was clear he did not fall for her bluff.
Saoirse smiled wryly. "Wow. Lucky me. I'll have to enjoy my vacation to the medical wing for as long as I can. Then we can continue my training as if nothing ever happened." The tense silence that followed gave her the impression there was something he wanted to tell her. "What is it, Master?"
"Perhaps," he spoke slowly, as if weighing each word before saying it, "it is best to put off your training. For now."
"What?" Saoirse's brows pulled together.
"I've also spoken to Coach Mor. He thinks it's a good idea to give you a break from the team."
"WHAT?! NO!" Saoirse sat up, and quickly regretted it as red hot pain shot through her back, and she collapsed back on the bed, panting and sweating. She underestimated what Master Rowan had said about her wounds.
"You could have been killed, Saoirse...."
"But I--."
"You're not ready, Saoirse. Coach Mor was foolish to think that you could be at Tier 2. My own hopes for you clouded my judgement. I shouldn't have given you permission."
"This. Isn't. Fair!"
"Sometimes I forget you're still just a child. We can pick back up where we left off next semester--."
"Next semester!? You've got to be joking! That's six months away! What am I supposed to do until then?"
"Focus on your classes," Master Rowan shrugged, "you are not performing as well as you could be. I believe I've been robbing you of a proper education for quite some time, now."
Most students do not receive private lessons from a Master until after they've graduated. Saoirse knew that Master Rowan was making an exception with her, that he was giving her special treatment. She was talented. Gifted in ways most students only dreamed of. Saoirse squinted at him, sensing there was more to all of this than the eyes could meet.
"No. There's something you're not telling me."
For the first time, Master Rowan appeared to be his age. He paused and watched her dark eyes piercing through him. He sometimes forgot her intuitive gifts allowed her to see through the truth of things. But he could not bring himself to tell her, yet. Saoirse wasn't ready to hear it.
Rowan placed a gentle hand on her hot forehead. "Get some rest," he said. "We'll talk about this when you're discharged."
@Moose