Maidens & Killers

Routine

      I come back to consciousness suddenly and all I see is Garrick’s face and hazel eyes filling my line of vision. I have a momentary thought about how nice his face is and that I wouldn’t mind waking up like this more often before the ringing in my ears brings me back to reality. My immediate reaction is to try to sit up, laying down on the mat leaves me defenseless to the like’s of riders like Jack. 

“Woah, I’ve got you. Just take a second,” Garrick says, placing a hand on my chest to lean me back down to the ground. 

Fuck I need to get my head right, 24 hours in the riders quadrant and I’m eyeing up my section leader. 

“I can’t lay here Garrick. You know that, I can’t look weak. Not even for a second,” I say to him through gritted teeth. 

He looks me up and down one more time, looking for injuries that he hasn’t noticed yet. Seeing none he just nods his head ever so slightly and stands up from where he has been crouching down next to me. 

To his credit he doesn’t offer me a hand to get up, even though I can tell by the way his hand is flexing it is going against his normal nature to do so. I appreciate that. 

    I slowly, but surprisingly steadily, roll to my knees and then to a standing position myself. Either Garrick has already yelled at the other riders and told them to mind their own business, or my little nap wasn’t the most exciting thing happening on the mats because no one appears to be ogling us.  Liam is standing near the mat he just put me to sleep on though, head down and looking at the ground, obviously wracked with guilt. Five minutes with Liam and I can tell he’s a good guy, rebel relic or not. Garrick I’m still on the fence about. 

“Don’t feel bad Mairi. This is what we are here for,” I tell him, brushing any dirt off of my legs. 

He finally looks up at me, “Oh I know. I just get way more pleasure out of choking out people I don’t like, than people I do.” 

“Everyone who steps across from you on this mat is your opponent Liam,” Garrick gruffly instructs him. “Trust me, green eyes here would have taken your arm off if she’d been given the chance. Wouldn’t you have killer?”

A laugh bubbles out of me, hurting my already sore throat, “ Without hesitation.” 

At that Liam raises his eyebrows at me, “Well, damn.” 

     It’s Garrick’s turn to bark out a laugh as he tells us to go grab some water and then he’s gone. He heads off to observe another fight nearby and I watch him go, trying not to stare at his ass in those tight leather pants and failing. There’s no harm in looking. I think. Just no touching. A perfectly round ass like that should be appreciated. He stops at a mat and appears to yell encouragement to one of the fighters so I turn and head towards where a stack of water skins has been placed in a bucket and catch Riorson’s eye in doing so. He’s watching me with an intense look on his face, almost like he could tell I was just having illicit thoughts about his best friend. 

    I fall into a routine throughout the month of August; classes; training; studying; and laying in bed at night rereading the letters and notes I brought with me from Soren to read. Since we knew that we weren’t going to be allowed to communicate for a year I had come up with the genius plan that we should write each other letters to be opened throughout that year when we were having a bad day. I worked for about three months before conscription day, penning letters and sealing them for him, pouring my heart out and letting my guard down more than I normally would. We traded them the last time we saw each other before reporting to Basgaith and I still am a little hurt  from when he handed me a small stack of ten pages of paper in exchange for my large stack of perfectly folded and tied letters.