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fingerpaint the sky

till everything shines

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More fic! Why not?
[misc] dreamers
Another one of this morning's stories, because I may as well post a few while I'm here. A short little drabble this time, only cheating slightly at 107 words. It's another Narnia story, spurred by fictualities's comment about dual consciousness and my general fascination with the borders between worlds and mindsets and lives.

Espada Ropera

The fencing master frowned at Peter. "What on earth are you playing at, Pevensie?" he demanded. "Slashing at the knees is against the rules for sabre, and pointless besides. You'll never win a bout flailing away like that."

It is a trick for a proper blade of good Dwarven steel, thought Peter, and with it I saved my life in many a battle, at Beruna and Anvard and after the usurper Miraz fell. Aloud, he said "Sorry, sir. Don't know what I was thinking."

Mr Weatherby harrumphed. "Again, and by the rules this time," he said. "And drop that left hand; you're not holding a bloody shield."

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*chuckles* I like Peter's way of thinking better, personally. Even if it's against the rules. Well done.

*grins* I do too, really. Much more practical, particularly when sabre has the silly right-of-way judging and all that.

Ah, fencing. So many silly rules, and yet I love it ever so much *grins*

*grins* Me too, though I've never actually learned to fence. I keep meaning to.

But the thought of Peter or Edmund trying to fence with the memories and muscle-memory of Narnian battles interfering amused me.

I learnt for over a year, utterly loved it.

Oh, it is. *grins* I mean, it would be so hard trying to act normal after having that kind of experience.

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