Summer fic challenge 2018, part 2.
Sep. 14th, 2018 03:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merikuru posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
volieredeatoriI may actually get it done this year.
(Had to swap prompt, original was "stern" and gave me no ideas.)
She inhales deeply, fixes her eyes on the target and wills her mind blank, wills herself to focus.
It's harder than one would think; it always has been, her thoughts never quite still, her inner turmoil never quite reaching equilibrium. Too many memories and too many emotions gnaw at her despite all her efforts to push them away, and while she likes to think she's grown quite adept at ignoring them by now, they still always come back to her when she's least expecting it. Sometimes she thinks it's as if she'll never be free of it all, as if it'll worry at her forever, and while she knows logically that just can't be true, it's all still just--
No - she doesn't need to be thinking about that just now. Another deep breath, trying to draw singleminded determination over her like a cloak, closing her eyes for just a moment before she reaches for an arrow, nocks it with practiced ease.
Focus.
She draws back the string, eyes locked to the target. Focus.
Deep breath. Release.
For just a moment, she's jealous of the arrow's flight - straight and true, piercing dead center, it never once strays even the slightest bit from its path. Unlike her emotions, unlike her.
But there's no time for those thoughts, and she forcefully pushes them to the back of her mind, reaches for another arrow.
Focus. Release.
Maybe she can't find equilibrium, but after a while there's something comforting about the curve of the bow in her hands, the twang of the aramid string as it sends arrow after arrow speeding towards the target, and that's good enough.
It has to be good enough. She can't give up now.
(Had to swap prompt, original was "stern" and gave me no ideas.)
She inhales deeply, fixes her eyes on the target and wills her mind blank, wills herself to focus.
It's harder than one would think; it always has been, her thoughts never quite still, her inner turmoil never quite reaching equilibrium. Too many memories and too many emotions gnaw at her despite all her efforts to push them away, and while she likes to think she's grown quite adept at ignoring them by now, they still always come back to her when she's least expecting it. Sometimes she thinks it's as if she'll never be free of it all, as if it'll worry at her forever, and while she knows logically that just can't be true, it's all still just--
No - she doesn't need to be thinking about that just now. Another deep breath, trying to draw singleminded determination over her like a cloak, closing her eyes for just a moment before she reaches for an arrow, nocks it with practiced ease.
Focus.
She draws back the string, eyes locked to the target. Focus.
Deep breath. Release.
For just a moment, she's jealous of the arrow's flight - straight and true, piercing dead center, it never once strays even the slightest bit from its path. Unlike her emotions, unlike her.
But there's no time for those thoughts, and she forcefully pushes them to the back of her mind, reaches for another arrow.
Focus. Release.
Maybe she can't find equilibrium, but after a while there's something comforting about the curve of the bow in her hands, the twang of the aramid string as it sends arrow after arrow speeding towards the target, and that's good enough.
It has to be good enough. She can't give up now.
