Post by ADAM WESSBERG on Jun 7, 2012 21:27:33 GMT -5
lyrics by Boston
Adam stepped around a tree and quickly shot the buck in the chest, and then he dashed behind a short bush while shooting the deer again. He crouched next to the bush, panting, glanced out at his target, and then he rolled out to get behind the next tree.
BAM!!!
He'd failed the roll. Not only had he gotten tangled in his bow and fallen on his back, while doing that his head whacked one of the barrels holding the spare bows. And the quiver he was using was now severely cracked from the weight. He looked around at his makeshift forest, if you could call it that. The young prince had stacked sandbags around, shooting at the stationary target in which his scene had been made around. He hadn't made the bullseye, but he was much closer than he would have come six months ago. His arrows had all hit within the second ring (from the edge), and he was proud of himself. Well, as proud as one could be when his head was pounding from the hit and back bruised from landing on a now oddly shaped quiver. Moaning, he stood up and rubbed his head achingly. Okay, maybe the roll was a bit much, Adam, he thought to himself. You should practicing shooting at a moment's notice more than trying to look cool.[/i][/font][/size] With a sharp intake of breath he removed the damaged quiver from his back, sighing to see that some of the fletchings had come off. This would be a pain to repair, and to repair it he needed to bring into the castle. And he needed to clean up here.
He grabbed his arrows out of the target and replaced the target to its original position. Turning back to his set up, Adam sighed and hung his head. It would take a lot more of sweat to put the sandbags back. He looked at his casual shirt, which was soaked due to his morning's work and the heat of the day kicking in early. His pants were sticking to his legs and his flexible boots were the only thing completely dry on the outside. All of his shooting gear was secretly bought by him, and overtime he made his own. The boots were the one thing he had left that he'd bought instead of made. He wasn't interested in the shoemaking business, and when he had tried to learn, he didn't do so hot. But he was definitely hot now.
After he finished moving the sandbags, Adam picked up his bow and quiver. With a final sweep of the practice area, he began to walk back to the castle. Or, rather, as far back to the castle as he would be going for now. He never went straight back to the castle like this.
No, there was the servant's bath. You had to pump the water yourself, not to mention the bath itself was under used and needed upgrading, but it was safe from prying eyes. He had a clean set of clothes waiting for him there, and near the bathhouse was where he hid his archery supplies. Unfortunately, today he wouldn't be storing all of his equipment. He needed to repair the the quiver, if not make a new one, and restore the lost fletchings on a few arrows.
Adam took his bath and changed into more appropriate clothes: a simple gray button down with black trouser and a turqouisish blue tie. He had to admit that he preferred combinations like this that had mostly neutral colors and one splash of a cool color. He didn't feel like he looked very nice in brights. His brother, however, Fado could pull off anything.
Not sure how he would sneak the quiver and arrows past all the maids and gardeners and into his room, the young prince set on his way. He would have to hope for the best, and that his distant cousins or brother wouldn't find him either.
