Show me that fire in your heart

Silvano Sadira · 09-01-2012, 05:52 PM

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This was for his sons. This was for them. The dummies stared back at him with empty faces, no features carved into their oddly carved heads. They had some recoil to them, but they were nothing like a real human being, he thought as he practiced moving with the obsidian daggers. They swished through the air, whistling as they cut into the rough wood of the dummy's body. There was no cry of protest, only the light creaking of wood in the wind and the rustling of leaves on a late summer breeze. He swung hard, remembering how he had fought barehanded when he had earned these daggers. That man's eyes came into his memory and his own emerald orbs widened suddenly and his gaze was intense on the mannequin. Anyone seeming him in that moment would have backed away at the fervent, feverish intensity present. Fire raged as he swung hard, the dagger slipping from his grasp in a calculated swing. It logged with a thunk in the dummy's chest, quivering lightly.

Silvano backed away, breath heavy as his mind returned to the present and he filtered away the memory. He simply stared at the dagger, the black blade and silver white handle a sharp contrast to the wood it was embedded into. Gently, he touched the pommel stone, a small drop of solid black fire in the bone. It was cold, the stone, and the heat of his hands was fading slowly from the ivory. A heavy sigh escaped him and he pulled the knife out hard. A small spray of tiny wooden splinters followed, bouncing harmlessly to the ground as the man inspected the weapon for chinks and missing cuts. The edge was still sharp, deadly. Good. It was no sword, but that could hardly be helped, could it?

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