![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Rekindle 3rd Person Sample
Diarmuid carefully turns the sheathed dagger over in his small hands as he walks away from where his mother and father are talking to that man. Despite the fact his mother is doing her best to keep her voice calm and low, Diarmuid can tell something is wrong. Something is always wrong when he comes to visit. Even though the visits are rare, the mood in the household always becomes so much darker when he's around.
The dark feeling is a lot like the feeling he is getting from the dagger in his hands. The man had just given it to him. He had said it was only proper that a father give his son his first real weapon. But that is the problem, perhaps. That man--that fallen knight whose name is Donn--is no father to Diarmuid. Donn himself seems to be the only one who doesn't realize that.
The boy flinches, suddenly looking over his shoulder. It's almost as if his mother realizes he is now far enough away not to be able to hear everything that is being said, because her voice has suddenly grown much colder. Diarmuid sighs and wishes the man's visit was over already so everyone could be happy again. After a few moments of trying and failing to hear what they are talking about, he continues on his way to his room.
He doesn't get very far, though, because his eyes land on a practice sword that someone has left laying in the yard. A happy giggle slips from his mouth as he absentmindedly tosses the dagger onto a nearby barrel and skips over to pick up the sword. He only learned the other day how to hold one and has been looking forward to learning more. Carefully, as if the sword is real instead of a practice one, he settles it in his hands holding it out in front of him like he has been taught.
Diarmuid wishes his friend was here right now. Even though Aengus had deemed the other boy too young to start training with him, Diarmuid has promised his friend he will show him what he has learned. Despite not having learned that much so far, he is still itching to show his friend. But his friend isn't here. Donn is and the other boy always has to leave for a few days when Donn pays one of his rare visits.
Unconsciously, Diarmuid's practice swings start becoming harder as he thinks about how much he dislikes it when that man comes to visit. Everyone is always so happy and having fun and then he comes and messes it all up. Why can't he just stay away?
A hand suddenly catches a hold of his arm and stops him from swinging again. When Diarmuid looks up, his eyes grow wide to see who is looking at him.
"Your arms are too tense, boy. Relax them," Donn seems unaware of the shiver that his touch sends down Diarmuid's back. Instead, the man just continues to attempt to coax the boy to relax his grip on the wooden sword.
For his part, Diarmuid tries to do as he is told, but having Donn looming over him like some dark bird of prey makes it nearly impossible to do. The negative feelings that the man always brings into the household are so strong now that Diarmuid finds himself having trouble breathing let alone moving. He feels like he's suffocating in a whirlpool of darkness and it terrifies him.
A small scared sound must slip from his lips because Donn pauses to give Diarmuid a strange look. The man seems about to say something when another voices speaks instead.
"The meal will be laid shortly. Do you not wish to retire to your room to clean up beforehand? You have had a long trip." Though formal, Aengus' words are a calming sound to Diarmuid's young ears, "I will see Diarmuid to his room to prepare."
"Of course. Thank you for your hospitality," Donn's answer is just as formal, and it is obvious to anyone listening that the formal words are a mask to hide his true feelings. The man stands, bows stiffly to Aengus, and walks off toward his room.
Donn has barely left their sight when Aengus leans down and gathers Diarmuid into his arms. The boy lets the sword fall from his hands and throws his arms around Aengus' neck. That his small arms are trembling doesn't surprise Aengus at all.
"It is all right my little bird. You are safe now. He will trouble you no more," Aengus' voice is gentle in the boy's ear. Even so, Diarmuid's arms remain tightly wrapped around his father's neck.
Yes, because it is Aengus who has always been his father, Aengus who has taught him so much, and Aengus who always saves him when he needs it.
Donn is no father to him and never will be.
Diarmuid tucks his head under Aengus' chin, but says nothing. While he knows he's safe now, some of that dark feeling is still lingering and all he wants is to be close to the person who has always kept him safe.
Aengus gently strokes the boy's hair and turns to carry him to his room. As he does, his eyes fall on the dagger that is still sitting on the barrel where Diarmuid had left it, "You don't want that, do you?"
"No, it's not my partner," Diarmuid shakes his head, his voice small, but strangely confident. "It does not sing to me like the others you showed me."
"I did not think so. I will see it disposed of then. Come, lets get you ready for supper," Aengus presses a kiss to Diarmuid's forehead causing the boy to smile slightly.
As they walk, Aengus starts singing one of Diarmuid's favorite songs and, finally, the boy starts to relax. This is what a father really is, Diarmuid can't help but think. Not some person who only stops by once in a great while and makes everyone sad when he comes, but someone who is always there and keeps you safe and happy. He just needs to stop trying to be what he is not.
The dark feeling is a lot like the feeling he is getting from the dagger in his hands. The man had just given it to him. He had said it was only proper that a father give his son his first real weapon. But that is the problem, perhaps. That man--that fallen knight whose name is Donn--is no father to Diarmuid. Donn himself seems to be the only one who doesn't realize that.
The boy flinches, suddenly looking over his shoulder. It's almost as if his mother realizes he is now far enough away not to be able to hear everything that is being said, because her voice has suddenly grown much colder. Diarmuid sighs and wishes the man's visit was over already so everyone could be happy again. After a few moments of trying and failing to hear what they are talking about, he continues on his way to his room.
He doesn't get very far, though, because his eyes land on a practice sword that someone has left laying in the yard. A happy giggle slips from his mouth as he absentmindedly tosses the dagger onto a nearby barrel and skips over to pick up the sword. He only learned the other day how to hold one and has been looking forward to learning more. Carefully, as if the sword is real instead of a practice one, he settles it in his hands holding it out in front of him like he has been taught.
Diarmuid wishes his friend was here right now. Even though Aengus had deemed the other boy too young to start training with him, Diarmuid has promised his friend he will show him what he has learned. Despite not having learned that much so far, he is still itching to show his friend. But his friend isn't here. Donn is and the other boy always has to leave for a few days when Donn pays one of his rare visits.
Unconsciously, Diarmuid's practice swings start becoming harder as he thinks about how much he dislikes it when that man comes to visit. Everyone is always so happy and having fun and then he comes and messes it all up. Why can't he just stay away?
A hand suddenly catches a hold of his arm and stops him from swinging again. When Diarmuid looks up, his eyes grow wide to see who is looking at him.
"Your arms are too tense, boy. Relax them," Donn seems unaware of the shiver that his touch sends down Diarmuid's back. Instead, the man just continues to attempt to coax the boy to relax his grip on the wooden sword.
For his part, Diarmuid tries to do as he is told, but having Donn looming over him like some dark bird of prey makes it nearly impossible to do. The negative feelings that the man always brings into the household are so strong now that Diarmuid finds himself having trouble breathing let alone moving. He feels like he's suffocating in a whirlpool of darkness and it terrifies him.
A small scared sound must slip from his lips because Donn pauses to give Diarmuid a strange look. The man seems about to say something when another voices speaks instead.
"The meal will be laid shortly. Do you not wish to retire to your room to clean up beforehand? You have had a long trip." Though formal, Aengus' words are a calming sound to Diarmuid's young ears, "I will see Diarmuid to his room to prepare."
"Of course. Thank you for your hospitality," Donn's answer is just as formal, and it is obvious to anyone listening that the formal words are a mask to hide his true feelings. The man stands, bows stiffly to Aengus, and walks off toward his room.
Donn has barely left their sight when Aengus leans down and gathers Diarmuid into his arms. The boy lets the sword fall from his hands and throws his arms around Aengus' neck. That his small arms are trembling doesn't surprise Aengus at all.
"It is all right my little bird. You are safe now. He will trouble you no more," Aengus' voice is gentle in the boy's ear. Even so, Diarmuid's arms remain tightly wrapped around his father's neck.
Yes, because it is Aengus who has always been his father, Aengus who has taught him so much, and Aengus who always saves him when he needs it.
Donn is no father to him and never will be.
Diarmuid tucks his head under Aengus' chin, but says nothing. While he knows he's safe now, some of that dark feeling is still lingering and all he wants is to be close to the person who has always kept him safe.
Aengus gently strokes the boy's hair and turns to carry him to his room. As he does, his eyes fall on the dagger that is still sitting on the barrel where Diarmuid had left it, "You don't want that, do you?"
"No, it's not my partner," Diarmuid shakes his head, his voice small, but strangely confident. "It does not sing to me like the others you showed me."
"I did not think so. I will see it disposed of then. Come, lets get you ready for supper," Aengus presses a kiss to Diarmuid's forehead causing the boy to smile slightly.
As they walk, Aengus starts singing one of Diarmuid's favorite songs and, finally, the boy starts to relax. This is what a father really is, Diarmuid can't help but think. Not some person who only stops by once in a great while and makes everyone sad when he comes, but someone who is always there and keeps you safe and happy. He just needs to stop trying to be what he is not.