“How do you feel about this one?” (Character of choice)
You have really stirred Casey’s muse up with these prompts! Thank you again!
“How do you feel about this one?”
Casey stares at the dagger in Papa’s hand. Warily, she reaches out for it, but the minute it’s in her hand, she shakes her head and drops it. “No.”
Alistair sighs and looks around the armory while scratching his head. “You don’t want a sword and shield,” he glances down to see Casey shaking her head again, “and you don’t want a dagger. I’m not sure what else …”
Tilting her head up at him, she smiles. “I want a bow,” she says.
Alistair blinks. Memories of the Blight return, of the few times he relied on the weapon to save his or his companions’ hides. None of them ended particularly well. “Well …”
“Mama says Father can teach me,” Casey insists.
For the first time since coming in here, he sees her eyes sparkling with hope. Father. Crouching down in front of her, he reaches a hand out to tuck dark hair behind one ear. It’s getting longer now and stays put. “Your Father, huh?” She gasps, a soft sound filled with worry, and she starts to wring her hands together. Reaching out, he pulls her close so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders. “You know,” he says quietly, conspiratorially, “you’re a very lucky young lady.”
Casey blinks, startled. “I am?”
He nods. “You get to have a Papa,” he gives her a wide, reassuring, cheesy grin, “and a Father.” He sighs dramatically. “One who, at least, is known for his expertise with the bow.” Standing back up again, he settles his hand on he shoulder. “Have you asked him yet?”
Biting her lower lip, she nods. “He said yes.”
“Right then. Why don’t you go find him and your mother, and bring them both to our private armory.”
Her eyes widen, hopeful. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course, I do!” She starts running off, as fast as her young legs can carry her, as he laughs. Once she is out of the door, he waves the guard over and informs him of the change of plan.
He arrives at what he affectionately calls the Warden’s Armory, because it’s where he’s kept some of the armor and weapons he still has from the Blight. Inside, he locates the proper weapons rack and examines the bows held there. He knows little of the weapons themselves, except that he doesn’t like being on the receiving end, but it isn’t for him to choose.
The door opens, and he glances over to find Casey tugging expectantly on her mother’s hand as she enters the room. Serafina is laughing, murmuring something to the man following in behind her. Alistair smiles when his wife looks over. He isn’t sure why he decided to take Casey to the armory today, of all days. After all, she is only just eleven, but something about the decision feels right. He watches Serafina’s gaze shift to the weapon rack then back to him. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she smiles and nods.
Casey runs over to Alistair, her eyes locked onto the variety of bows nearby. Some are nearly as big as she is. “Which one?” she breathes.
“That,” Alistair replies as he meets the gaze of the man standing next to him, “is for your Father to decide.” Winking at his wife, he adds in an undertone, “I have no skill with these things!”
Casey looks up at both men, her eyes flitting back and forth before settling on her father. As he steps forward to examine the choices, Alistair moves over to Serafina’s side and slides an arm around her waist. “She is so like you, I felt sure she would choose the daggers,” he whispers.
Serafina chuckles. “She has some of her father in her,” she reminds him gently.
Alistair’s arm tightens. “And for that, I am glad.”
