Fire Village Commingling

[~Z~]

A short, strong looking young man stood with his arms propped up with a bow and arrow in hand. His fingers were positioned perfectly across the front of the bow and the string. He blew the hair out of his brown eyes, and closed one of them, with his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. He aimed it perfectly forward, and let go. The string snapped forwards painfully across his arm, and the arrow flew straight past the target, or in his case a few etched in circles on an old, dying tree, scuffing into the ground in a puff of dirt.

"Dangit!" he shouted. He threw the bow to the ground and sat down at the end of the target range. "This is rediculous! I can't even use a stupid bow." He sat cross legged with his elbows on his knees, and propped his chin on his hands. His brow was furrowed in irritation, and he stared down at the target, as if he was waiting for it to jump in the way of an arrow. He had been working at it for hours, and he still hadn't skimmed the edge of it.

With a grunt of defeat, he dropped onto his back with his arms sprawled out. He took a deep breath, and started out into the dark blue sky. The sun was just peeking over the edge of the horizon, and he still couldn't shoot an arrow. He sighed again, and reached for his neck to pull out a small, half heart shaped pendant on the end of a thin string. He stared at it blankly, barely acknowledging anything going on around him.

After staring for what felt like over ten minutes, he had to come back out of his zoning to shift, since a stone was digging into the small of his back, so he sat up. The sun had made it over the horizon, and he knew the other people of the village would be waking up. He scanned the are of the small, man made homes, the chicken pens, and the other various buildings and huts. He glanced at the bow that was discarded onto the ground, then to his arm, that had large cuts down the forearm, since it had been whipped by the bow's string many times over. He took a deep breath and stood to go get the dozen arrows that he had already sent far over the set targets, before returning to give shooting them another try. He wasn't going to give up because of a sore arm.

[carmella]

Querida peered through her long, light hair at Matthew Sterling Winters, outside with his bow. He reminded her of Roshan, her husband. Or ex-husband. It had been a long time since she had seen anyone in her family, they were all dead or gone. Or both.
Querida sighed, rolling her hunched shoulders. Carefully, so as not to hurt herself, she rose from the position she had been in for hours. That was one thing about age; you didn't need to move so often.
She flexed her wrinkled hand experimentally, and then used it to grasp her door-frame, supporting herself. Querida turned back to Matthew Sterling Winters, and continued to watch.

[~Z~]

Matt knocked another arrow, and pulled back the string. He closed one eye again to aim, but had a very sudden feeling of being watched. He lowered the bow and arrow to turn around and saw Querida peering at him from her doorway. He was a bit surprised to have her watching him as he failed miserably at archery, since he wasn't really that impressive. He loosened his grip a little bit in surprise, and he felt the string slip from his hand and whip his wrist again. He bit back a yelp and a curse and dropped the bow as the arrow dug tip first into the ground.

He turned, holding his arm, to look at Querida again. He didn't really know what he should have done; he never really spoke with the elders of the village, so he didn't know how much respect he was actually supposed to give them. He kind of nodded his head kindly and awkwardly to her, then looked at his bow again, which was once again, discarded to the ground. "Um... Hi..." he muttered to her, once again, clueless as to what to say. He picked up his bow again and pulled the arrow from the ground as an excuse not to look directly at her; not peticularly because she wasn't pleasent to look at, though that didn't help, but because of the age and wisdom that waved off of her made him nervous. "Can I... help you with anything?" he asked, glancing at his torn up arm again as a distraction.

[carmella]

Querida smiled faintly. Not many people spoke to her any more. Or visited her.
"No," she replied, wheezing voice barely above a whisper, "I was just watching. I always watch everything."
She indicated the villiage with a sweep of her gnarled had, emphasising her point.

[~Z~]

Matthew rubbed his arm awkwardly, trying to wipe some of the blood off of it. "Oh... okay..." he mumbled quietly. He was really hoping that someone else would show up, so that he wouldn't have to stand awkwardly alone with Querida watching him... He was the only one out and about, and, in this case, the only one for her to watch.

He glanced at his bow, and awkardly picked it back up. His fingers stumbled around as he pulled the string back with the arrow, closed one eye, and attempted to shoot at the target again, only to have it stick into the lower trunk of the same tree, and twang for a short moment before falling still. He clenched his fist in irritation, and was very tempted to just throw the bow and give up, but once again, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Querida. Not when she's watching... he told himself. He pulled another arrow back into the notch on the string, and pulled it back for another try.

[carmella]

Querida smiled, amused by the boy's determination. Eyes drifting away from him, out over the forest, she let her mind wander freely. She could remember a century of villiage life. She had seen the birth of Matthew Sterling Winters. She'd seen his parent's born too.
The snap of a bowstrng bought her back to once more watch the present Matthew Sterling Winters.

[~Z~]

Matt stared harshly at the target again, aiming. He held the tip of the arrow just above the center of the target, like he was taught, and let the string go. It snapped against his forearm and sent the arrow flying far to the right, slapping into the ground. "Oh, Come on!!" he shouted. He dropped the bow, picked his sword up from the ground, where it nearly always lay next to him, and chucked it accross the feild and directly into the bulls eye of the target. "Oh great, NOW it works," he growled. He dropped himself on the ground again, scowling. "I can't even shoot a freaking bow," he growled. "There's no way I'm getting the magic into it."

Azuro watched silently from his entryway as Matt lost his temper- again. The boy had perfect aim throwing his sword, but couldn't seem to hit a target with an arrow. He chuckled quietly. It would be a while before he would be sending flaming arrows flying in battle, that was for sure.

[carmella]

Querida stretched her old, skeletal limbs. Her fingers spidered to a pendant around her neck, kept for good luck. It was in the shape of a little arrow, flying swiftly. She shuffled out of her hut, prehaps the first time she had emerged for six months...or longer, she forgot.
"No, Matt," she said, you aren't pulling the string back right!"
Querida bent over and picked up the bow, and a discarded arrow from the floor. She notched it onto the string and raised it, aiming. "You have to pull it back as far as it can go," she said, and heaved the string backwards past her ear. She let go, and the arrow flew, hitting the target just short of the bullseye.
"Well," she croaked, "after fifty years of not practicing, I suppose I shouldn't have expected a bullseye."
She laughed rustily, and orrfered the bow to Matt.

[~Z~]

Matthew watched -he couldn't tell if it was in horror or amazment- as the old woman snatched up his bow and shot the arrow perfectly forward into the target, just below his sword. He stood frozen for a few moments, before taking the bow grumpily from her hands and taking another arrow to knock. "I have been, it just doesn't work," he growled. He pulled the bowstring back up to his ear, the tip of the arrow just above the target, as he was taught, and let go of the string. It snapped against his forearm again, and the arrow flapped off target anew and dug into the ground. Matt held back another curse as he put down his bow and held his arm. "See?" he said. "I can't shoot an arrow."

[carmella]

Querida shrugged. "Well, it may just be me, but I think you're arms in teh way." She smiled, her face crinkling even more than normal.

[~Z~]

Matthew's face fell very serious, and he couldn't help being annoyed by that. Of course his arm's in the way! That's why it was raw and cut! He held back all of the remarks that were shoothing through his head, biting his tongue. This crazy old lady was trying to teach him how to shoot arrows... pshh.

He finally just sat down on the ground. "J...just screw this," he said flatly, still holding his forearm. "I can fight just fine, I just can't shoot arrows."

Azuro continued to watch silently from his doorway, a serious expression on his face. It wasn't like Winters to give up like that, he thought. He must seriously beleive he can't shoot arrows.

[carmella]

"There's no such word as can't!" snapped Querida, in a typical old-lady fashion.

[~Z~]

Mat began to get slightly annoyed. "If there's no such word as can't, then why can I still say it? Or would you prefer cannot?" he said, suddenly regretting it. Snapping at an elder in the village probably wasn't the greatest idea; especially an elder that can shoot arrows extremely accurately.

[carmella]

"I could say hmmfrgchibiligamont. It still wouldn't be a word," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "If you prefer, I could say 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again'."

[~Z~]

Matt let out an annoyed sigh. "Well, I don't think that you can say can not aren't real words, can you?" he asked with a sarcastic tone. This old lady was really getting on his nerves.