Monday, 18 February 2013

Target Practice

*thunk* The knife hit the wall, hilt first, just the right of the handsome Gallente face projected onto the bulkhead. Laria, reclining on one of the couches in her quarters, hissed irritably. She grabbed another knife from the box by her side, and holding it by the blade, threw it again. This time it struck side on, just to the right of the image's left eye, and fell to the floor, clanging as it hit the small pile of knives that had gathered there, looking faintly like some kind of offering.

"Shoot my ship," she muttered, flinging another knife. *THUNK* *CLATTER*
"Shoot my pod." *THUNK* *CLATTER*
"Steal my corpse." *THUNK* *CLATTER*.
"Bastard." *THUNK* *CLATTER*

She stopped. "Get a grip on yourself, Raven," she said. "All you have to show for all this is a slightly dented wall and a more realistic view of your knife-throwing skills." She nodded. That was better. More grown up.

It lasted about three moments. "He said he was going to mount it!" she wailed, and grabbed for another knife.

*THUNK* *CLATTER* "Bastard." *THUNK* *CLATTER* "Bastard."

She had a lot of throwing knives in that box. It was going to be a long night.

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