Challenge #1 - Begin: Hajime, Fluff, Eliot, G
Title: Hajime
Author: LMX
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Eliot
Genre: I hate this category... fluff?
Summary: He never wants it to end.
Prompt: Begin
Notes/Warnings: The order of calls is subject to some artistic license.
The quiet is settling over them, from the youngest to the oldest, hands settled in easy fists and pressed against the sides of their belts as they tense, the call could come at any moment and even though there's no punishment here, a sharp glance is a hundred times worse than a scathing tongue or a heavy blow. It's respect, a code, something to live by. Right now it's their whole world, nothing else is allowed in here.
The tension holds, making sure they're breathing because you couldn't hold your breath this long. There isn't a twitch, or a wobble. They're settled and prepared, muscles finding that easy point where they're relaxed but ready for immediate movement.
The first call comes - at last - and as one they bow and then declare the form, like a battle cry. Twenty bodies move at once, one cacophony of noise - the snap of limbs against gee sleeves and slam of feet meeting the floor. Sharp accurate movements and then silence again as they find their first stance.
There is nothing in his mind but white noise - preparation for the moves to come. He doesn't need to think through the sequence, it's as natural to him now as writing his name. There's nothing here but his body and the anticipation of the words from his Sensei.
The coming movement is like a tingle in every nerve ending, the anticipation is electric.
"Hajime."
At nine, Eliot McDonald wishes every class would never end.
Author: LMX
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Eliot
Genre: I hate this category... fluff?
Summary: He never wants it to end.
Prompt: Begin
Notes/Warnings: The order of calls is subject to some artistic license.
The quiet is settling over them, from the youngest to the oldest, hands settled in easy fists and pressed against the sides of their belts as they tense, the call could come at any moment and even though there's no punishment here, a sharp glance is a hundred times worse than a scathing tongue or a heavy blow. It's respect, a code, something to live by. Right now it's their whole world, nothing else is allowed in here.
The tension holds, making sure they're breathing because you couldn't hold your breath this long. There isn't a twitch, or a wobble. They're settled and prepared, muscles finding that easy point where they're relaxed but ready for immediate movement.
The first call comes - at last - and as one they bow and then declare the form, like a battle cry. Twenty bodies move at once, one cacophony of noise - the snap of limbs against gee sleeves and slam of feet meeting the floor. Sharp accurate movements and then silence again as they find their first stance.
There is nothing in his mind but white noise - preparation for the moves to come. He doesn't need to think through the sequence, it's as natural to him now as writing his name. There's nothing here but his body and the anticipation of the words from his Sensei.
The coming movement is like a tingle in every nerve ending, the anticipation is electric.
"Hajime."
At nine, Eliot McDonald wishes every class would never end.
