Rance had never considered giving Kel the role of the 'prince' anything special. While he held the Sidhe of their world with much the same awe and wariness that many did, he'd never felt they were any more deserving of respect than those who might have earned it through more than age and innate power. Of course, he'd realized that others wouldn't see it quite the same. That those bigoted against half-breeds might even see their harmless game as an insult.
Rance would have told those people exactly where to shove their opinions.
"Enspellin' my lover was a particularly heinous crime." He watched Kel move about the clearing with purpose, smile spreading into a grin. "But, nay, he has dared to put my feather, not freely gifted, in his cap. So rude an insult I can't ignore." In truth, someone using his feathers for anything would have mattered very little. It wasn't as if they were any more magical than the feathers of an ordinary raven. Claiming the feather had been a gift would have earned a derisive scoff at most. But, of course, the game didn't require anything like reality.
He caught the stick thrown to him and took up something like a child's mimicry of a fighting position. He'd seen true swordsmen fight once or twice, and it borrowed a bit from that, but it wasn't as if he or Kel had ever trained with blades. Nor would that matter as he gave an experimental couple flicks to get used to the feel. Then, with the same falsely 'noble' voice, he said, "Have at you, honorless dog!
A quick step forward, and he was swinging the stick. Not at Kel directly, of course, but at his own 'sword'.
Rance would have told those people exactly where to shove their opinions.
"Enspellin' my lover was a particularly heinous crime." He watched Kel move about the clearing with purpose, smile spreading into a grin. "But, nay, he has dared to put my feather, not freely gifted, in his cap. So rude an insult I can't ignore." In truth, someone using his feathers for anything would have mattered very little. It wasn't as if they were any more magical than the feathers of an ordinary raven. Claiming the feather had been a gift would have earned a derisive scoff at most. But, of course, the game didn't require anything like reality.
He caught the stick thrown to him and took up something like a child's mimicry of a fighting position. He'd seen true swordsmen fight once or twice, and it borrowed a bit from that, but it wasn't as if he or Kel had ever trained with blades. Nor would that matter as he gave an experimental couple flicks to get used to the feel. Then, with the same falsely 'noble' voice, he said, "Have at you, honorless dog!
A quick step forward, and he was swinging the stick. Not at Kel directly, of course, but at his own 'sword'.
