Idle hands made for a poor warrior, but Arjuna wasn’t one to welcome mistakes. And while truthfully, someone as gifted as himself had no need for practice, going through the motions was a welcome comfort. A reminder of his strength and of bygone days spent with bloody fingers spent coiled tightly around the finest twine every morning as a child, eager to be stronger than all who were capable of even holding a bow.
With his foot propped up on a dusted off stump, Arjuna removed the single arrow tucked neatly into the nearby bark. The archer had an aura about him like that of freshly fallen snow: cold and elegant and silent – an obvious contrast to bustling city that surrounded him. He was so absorbed in the moment that it took more time than usual to recognize a distant gaze.
“Does it interest you?” It wasn’t unusual for another to catch the tail-end of one of his sessions, to be caught up in the beauty of his pride. And the man who’d been watching him -- broad shoulders, and with the faintest gleam of something that reflected in his eyes -- how intriguing. But whether Arjuna had meant his practice or the commotion just around the corner that resounded in tune with yet another righteous crusader was yet to be determined.
@inqerad
