blue-eye skies

Though the winter chill was biting and cold, Petrai kept form- an upright back, steady arms, feet firmly planted on the ground. She breathed rythmically, as her instructors had told her, and tried to minimize the shaking of her hands. That, the cold did not help with, but her instuctors had reminded her that as a Watcher, Petrai would not always have the luxury of warmth. She had to be able to shoot, no matter the conditions.

She should've been proud of herself. At only eleven years old, Petrai was the first of her class of Watchlings to graduate from basic marital training to specialized weaponry classes. She had worked so hard for this- a step closer fulfilling her duty, to achieving the greatest honor someone born into her position could- but now was not the time to dream of a life as the Head Watcher, the role she always knew she was destined for. Now was not the time to rest on her laurels and gloat. She had to take it one step at a time. If Petrai was to be the best, she would have to keep being the best, and never let her abilities slack.

That was why she was up before the sun had risen, in a small couryard tucked far within the labrynthine Round Temple, practicing crossbow before anyone else was awake.

Petrai's instructors had quickly discovered her talent for sharpshooting. It was a Corvi trait, a hereditary art of war made even more accurate by her gift of sight. When she had initially been singled out from knife-throwing practice, and this gift was explained to her, Petrai had intitially been ashamed. Since she could remember, she had been taught to hide all signs of her heritage- her wings bound tight into laced corsetry, her hair shorn short, her talisman hidden under her clothes. She was sure this skill, and the Allsight ability it was a part of, were just another facet of that different, shameful self, meant to be buried away. But her instructors had soothed her. This shameful part of her could be helpful. It could be a gift. The Lifebringer might even forgive her for her dirty birth, her animalistic state, when she used her abilities to wage their wars.

So Petrai practiced. She held her crossbow steady, though the cold air bit at her skin. She focused her allsight completely on her target, though sleepiness and fatigue crawled at the corners of her vision. She stood up as straight as she could, though the posture strained her wings in their bindings beneath her cloak. She ignored the gnawing of hunger and the bite of the cold within her. A Watcher did not rest or weep or quit. A Watcher always had her eye on what was next ahead. A Watcher-

Something crashed behind her. Petrai had been so focused on her shot, she hadn't even noticed what it was. She missed, cursed under her breath.and reloaded all in one moment, before swirling around with her crossbow ready.

On a heap on the ground was not a thief, assailiant, or lost wild beast, but a gangly boy in a heap on the floor. He was wearing a threadbare tunic and had pale, honey-blonde hair. He was sprawled out on the floor, and groaning.

"Owwwwww….." He whined as he picked himself up, then jumped as he saw Petrai's crossbow aimed at him. "Ah! Don't hurt me! I didn't mean to scare you!"

Petrai had never seen this boy before. He was too young to be a Dedicant at the temple Academy, far to young to be a minister. His clothes were far too scrappy for him to be the son of a duke. And he was, obviously, no Watchling. "Who are you?" She demanded.

Awkwardly, the boy rose up his hands in defense. "Sorry- sorry. I'm Yeonaixho. Yeonaixho Sehwolh. My mother is a servant at the temple. Are you a Watcher?"

The son of a servant. A working-class boy. That made sense, given his appearance. But why was he here? "Yes." Petrai admitted. Since this boy was clearly clueless, she would take the liberty of assuming the full title before she had earned it. "Why are you here?"

"I've seen you out here in the mornings the past few days." The boy- Yeonaixho - admitted bashfully. "I, uh- I apprentice at the stables. I wasn't spying on you, or anything. I just wanted to say hi, because I had never seen you around before."

Petrai had come to this courtyard every morning within the last few days, and it was fairly close to the horse stables. She decided Yeonaixho's story checked out. "… alright."

Yeonaixho smiled. "So, what's it like being a Watcher? I always see you guys walking around in your cool outfits, but I'm always scared to say anything. Do you get to train with a lot of different weapons? Do you go on secret missions?"

Petrai frowned. "I mostly train crossbow." She said simply.

"Oh, that makes sense." Yeonaixho thought out loud. He really was expressive- too expressive, Petrai thought. He seemed like a fool.

A silence fell between them. Petrai would've liked to go back to her practice, but judging by Yeonaixho's expression, he was not satisfied with their conversation.

Petrai sighed. "What's it like… being a stablehand?"

"Oh, I hate it." Yeonaixho sighed. "I'm no good with the horses, and they're all as afraid of me as I am of them. Also, all these pompous noble boys come over to go riding, and they make me do all the work. 'Saddle my stallion, boy! Fetch me a lemonade, boy! Clean up the racing course! Shovel the manure!' It's awful." He put his hand on his hips. "I guess you don't have to deal with them, huh."

Surprisingly, he was right. For someone who considered herself so mature, Petrai had very little experience with the Noble Houses, and even less with their pompous scions. She was surprised to find one topic this foolish, gangly servant boy knew more about than her. "I suppose I don't…"

"You're much better than any of them, anyways." Yeonaixho said. "At least, you haven't told me to shovel manure yet. Maybe we can hang out more sometime, I mean, whenever we're both free. I think it'd be nice to be friends."

That was not something Petrai was expecting to hear. She let the corners of her mouth quirk up in a smile, before turning promptly back to her targets. "I have to keep practicing."

"Yeah, I probably better get going too. It was nice talking to you." As Yeonaixho began to return the way he came- climbing up the wall of the courtyard- he turned back. "Oh! I never got your name."

Petrai turned back, once more, to look Yeonaixho in the eye. "Petrai."

"Nice to meet you, Petrai!" He waved at her from the top of the wall. "I know we're gonna be best friends!"

Though she would never say it outloud, Petrai, too, knew his words were right.