Post by Mindy Omnis on Jan 7, 2010 18:49:24 GMT -5
Twang. A pause of less than a second. Thunk.
The bow's string made such a clearly twangy sound that Arianrhod could almost say it along. She didn't, though, choosing instead to drop it on the ground in a fit of temper that would probably come back to haunt her, and stomp over to the target.
It was somewhere around twenty degrees outside, the arena was deserted by even the less sane members of the camp, and the sky was dark and looked like rain - that was, snow, Arianrhod amended, rain never fell inside Camp because that would just depress the poor little campers, wouldn't it? - but none of this seemed to bother her. In fact, the only indication that Arianrhod gave that anything was wrong was a violent death look (aimed at the target) that could have shattered glass with its intensity.
Well, no, it couldn't, because unlike some people, Arianrhod wasn't blessed with the ability to do magic.
Or shoot an arrow straight, it appeared.
Anyone who would have been there would have disagreed. The circle that the blonde was currently trying to bore through with her gaze was old, and hole-ridden from the failed archery attempts of many campers. In the very center of the target was a blue circle. This blue circle was being forced to endure the torture of having nine arrows stuck through it.
And a little ways off, just out of the center's dominion, was the Arrow.
This Arrow, Arianrhod was entirely certain, was somehow defective. She had aimed perfectly and fired with what exertion she had, after many tries, figured out was required for such a shot.
But the Arrow, despite Arianrhod's best efforts, had somehow gone awry, and had lodged itself where it was not supposed to be. That is, not in the perfect center.
And Arianrhod had a goal. She wasn't allowed to go back to the Athena cabin until she had fired ten arrows into the dead center of the target. Not two inches off. Not on the edge. But in the middle. In that little circle.
Arianrhod Argall, you see, was the sort of person who never gave up on her New Year's Resolutions. She was That Guy, the one who constantly nagged you about having that one last cookie if you had vowed to lose weight, or the one who called you day after day after day about that promise to go to Book Stop with her until you just slammed down the phone and blocked her number. Arianrhod never broke her promises unless the circumstances were dire - for instance, she would give out your mailing address if it was to a company that gave away free textbooks (instead of, of course, hers - what if it was a murderer?), or perhaps tell someone how many people you had slept with if it meant that she was rumored to have slept with fewer. Arianrhod never, especially, broke promises to herself.
So instead of, say, giving up, as any normal person would, Arianrhod braced her foot against the target and yanked all of the arrows out. And went to try again.
Nine arrows later, she was exceedingly hopeful that she would perhaps be allowed to go inside now. Looking more cheerful than she had all day, Arianrhod lifted the bow, nocked an arrow - the Arrow had been broken into tiny little pieces and thrown into a corner - and aimed. She pulled the string back.
And as she was letting go, she heard the arena door behind her open.
Arianrhod whirled around. Fortunately for the person who had entered, the arrow had already fired, so he or she was in no danger.
Unfortunately for the person who had entered, Arianrhod checked over her shoulder. And the arrow was nowhere near the middle of the circle.
"... Oh. My. Gods."[/color]
On second thought, perhaps he or she was in terrible, mortal danger.[/sup]
The bow's string made such a clearly twangy sound that Arianrhod could almost say it along. She didn't, though, choosing instead to drop it on the ground in a fit of temper that would probably come back to haunt her, and stomp over to the target.
It was somewhere around twenty degrees outside, the arena was deserted by even the less sane members of the camp, and the sky was dark and looked like rain - that was, snow, Arianrhod amended, rain never fell inside Camp because that would just depress the poor little campers, wouldn't it? - but none of this seemed to bother her. In fact, the only indication that Arianrhod gave that anything was wrong was a violent death look (aimed at the target) that could have shattered glass with its intensity.
Well, no, it couldn't, because unlike some people, Arianrhod wasn't blessed with the ability to do magic.
Or shoot an arrow straight, it appeared.
Anyone who would have been there would have disagreed. The circle that the blonde was currently trying to bore through with her gaze was old, and hole-ridden from the failed archery attempts of many campers. In the very center of the target was a blue circle. This blue circle was being forced to endure the torture of having nine arrows stuck through it.
And a little ways off, just out of the center's dominion, was the Arrow.
This Arrow, Arianrhod was entirely certain, was somehow defective. She had aimed perfectly and fired with what exertion she had, after many tries, figured out was required for such a shot.
But the Arrow, despite Arianrhod's best efforts, had somehow gone awry, and had lodged itself where it was not supposed to be. That is, not in the perfect center.
And Arianrhod had a goal. She wasn't allowed to go back to the Athena cabin until she had fired ten arrows into the dead center of the target. Not two inches off. Not on the edge. But in the middle. In that little circle.
Arianrhod Argall, you see, was the sort of person who never gave up on her New Year's Resolutions. She was That Guy, the one who constantly nagged you about having that one last cookie if you had vowed to lose weight, or the one who called you day after day after day about that promise to go to Book Stop with her until you just slammed down the phone and blocked her number. Arianrhod never broke her promises unless the circumstances were dire - for instance, she would give out your mailing address if it was to a company that gave away free textbooks (instead of, of course, hers - what if it was a murderer?), or perhaps tell someone how many people you had slept with if it meant that she was rumored to have slept with fewer. Arianrhod never, especially, broke promises to herself.
So instead of, say, giving up, as any normal person would, Arianrhod braced her foot against the target and yanked all of the arrows out. And went to try again.
Nine arrows later, she was exceedingly hopeful that she would perhaps be allowed to go inside now. Looking more cheerful than she had all day, Arianrhod lifted the bow, nocked an arrow - the Arrow had been broken into tiny little pieces and thrown into a corner - and aimed. She pulled the string back.
And as she was letting go, she heard the arena door behind her open.
Arianrhod whirled around. Fortunately for the person who had entered, the arrow had already fired, so he or she was in no danger.
Unfortunately for the person who had entered, Arianrhod checked over her shoulder. And the arrow was nowhere near the middle of the circle.
"... Oh. My. Gods."[/color]
On second thought, perhaps he or she was in terrible, mortal danger.[/sup]
