A little scene

Rasa squats near the hearth, the fire warm at her back. Rubbing her tunic’s embroidered sleeve, she stares up into the light cast by the lamp flame, watching Jheri. She is sharpening her sword, strong, taloned hands sending the sword flashing across the stone.

Snick. Snick. Snick.

Bits of steel fall through the flickering lamplight. Jheri’s eyes are slits, focused on the edge of the blade, she deftly strikes it against the stone, making her way up the sword’s length. Rasa watches, entranced. Jheri is strong and can do everything.

Jheri won’t hurt her with the blade, even when it’s sharp enough.

Jheri glances down at her, Rasa shifts her eyes away, bites her hand. A sword clinks to rest against the sharpening stone. Feet shuffle on the floorboards. Then Jheri is crouching in front of her, silver dust falling from her smock, silver shoulders shining in the firelight.

“Hey,” she touches Rasa’s face, brushes the hair out of her eyes. “What are you doing?” Rasa stills as Jheri touches her hair, it feels nice, Jheri is gentle. She wonders why Jheri is always so gentle. “Will you sleep? It’s very late, Rashenka.” Shyly, Rasa reaches out a hand and brushes metal from Jheri’s smock. She wants to stay with Jheri, she wants to watch. She doesn’t like sleeping. She edges closer to Jheri and looks at her pleadingly. Jheri takes her hand, “Alright, you don’t have to.” She gestures to the table, the sharpening stone. “Help me with my sword?”

Help Jheri. Rasa nods and nods again. Help Jheri. She scrambles up and into the chair. Jheri’s arms wrap around her shoulders, helping her hands grip the heavy sword in the right place. Rasa runs the blade over the stone, the leather grip soft in her hand, the edge of the blade sparkling with metal dust, watching Jheri’s hands cover her own.

She squirms in her chair, trying to see Jheri over her shoulder, “I- I am making it sharp?”

Jheri’s eyes are warm, “Yes.”