Tangible Schizophrenia



Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: G.
Pairing: Gen. Tristan and Lancelot pov.
Feedback: What was good, what was bad, what was just ugly, etc.
Disclaimer: Versions didnít originate with me.
Notes: First for cain1999 and second for dea_liberty in return for bases and icons.
Summary: Two moments of realization.



Itís a small chipped thing now, carving worn smooth in spots till he can hardly remember what it is supposed to be. Most of the time it nestles forgotten amid the swords and knives and the rest of the steel that keeps Lancelot in one piece.

But once in a while, he'll pass a bit of stone sculpture that strikes a chord in his mind, and then he can see the difference. And he remembers what the color of his sisterís hair was, and the look in his fatherís eyes. Then the sky above is cramped and stifling, and Lancelot has to fight back a choke, charm in hand.

* * *

Last Trial

There is not, in Tristanís eyes, good and bad, but only the skilled and the unskilled. He knows into which category he falls, and he can quickly tell into which category the rest fall. All it takes is a bone-shivering rattle of blades.

So when he walks up, he is calm and sure because he is still testing. But when the Saxonís sword hits his own, when the huge man swerves him back on his guard without even breathing hardóthen Tristan knows. And the fear settles through him like a veil, letting him see nothing but the inevitable forward.