This short story is based off the backstory of one Dolphus Gorov, a character in the Boards RP Tales of Glory and Valour . I would highly recommend joining if you like to write.
Again.
Dolphus slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. The Swordmaster was polishing an apple on his uniform, but upon seeing Dolphus quickly switched to using his hankerchief instead. “Welcome, young Gorov. Please dress your armor and we can begin.”
That was his usual way of asking Dolphus to put on the protective fencing attire so that the training session could begin. Wordlessly Dolphus put it on, piece by piece, and finally presented himself at attention in the spot he usually stood upon. The Swordmaster took his time eating the apple, providing a striking contrast between his calm and well-mannered approach and the way his father usually ate apples.
“I understand that you are possibly upset about injuring that fellow yesterday,” The Swordmaster began, turning his head with raised brows at Dolphus’ flat, unchanging expression. “Well, I just wanted you to know it’s entirely superficial, and I’ve told him in less than polite language to grow a backbone. The man is 17 after all, he- well anyway.” He snapped his fingers, and a familiar metallic clinking approached Dolphus from behind.
“You may recall your duel with Lieutenant Alsen Saltator over a year ago, back when you were still 13.” Lieutenant Alsen Saltator clicked her heels and produced a smirk at the mentioned of his age. “That was not long before… I am sorry. I shall have to learn not to bring it up. Well, her ship is putting to sea tomorrow, and I’ve decided you two will have one more duel…”
“We shall see if you’ve improved.” The Swordmaster dipped his arm downwards, and Alsen Saltator drew her blade, physically identical to how she looked a year prior, the same confidence in her eye, and the same youth to her drawing her blade.
No, no, that’s wrong. She would be older by now.
“We shall see if you’ve improved.” The Swordmaster dipped his arm downwards, and Alsen Saltator drew her blade, a fair bit older than she had been a year ago - the military had taken its toll on her, but although her eyes were weary from the hardships she seemed more resolved than ever before.
Her blade sprung forward, meeting the tip of his and pushing past it. Dolphus twisted to avoid the blade as it shot past his arm, and backpedaled to avoid a feigned swipe which severed the lowest lock of his hair. Reeling, he tried to bring his arm up to threaten her throat, but she smacked his arm aside and drove her blade directly through his throat.
He fell back sputtering as blood rained down, the room growing taller and taller. Alsen’s bright red hair dripped with blood until all the red had run out of it, leaving behind the black hairs and soft face of his mother. “You will have strength, Dolphus.” She reached out, smothering his eyes. “You will always be strong enough.”
No, no. It doesn’t go like this.
Again.
Dolphus slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. The Swordmaster was polishing an apple on his uniform, but upon seeing Dolphus quickly switched to using his hankerchief instead. “Welcome, young Gorov. Please dress your armor and we can begin.”
That was his usual way of asking Dolphus to put on the protective fencing attire so that the training session could begin. Wordlessly Dolphus put it on, piece by piece, and just as he was about to present himself the large, muscular hand of Gregor reached out and pulled him away by the shoulder. “You look like an idiot with your collar crooked. Hold still.” His wide fingers ruined the perfect collar of his uniform.
“Dolphus! Present yourself!” The Swordmaster insisted, but as Dolphus moved into position his father took the apple from his grip and bit half of it off. “Dolphus, you don’t have the strength to go up against a man bigger than you. Sure, you can swing your little metal stick around, but you have to be ready to club somebody barreling at you.”
“Today, you will be facing Gregor Gorov.” The Swordmaster lowered his hand, and Gregor, now wearing a suit of armor, walked slowly forwards and swiped the air with his sword. Dolphus smiled internally as he smacked the sword away from his father with the greatest of ease; there could be no easier opponent.
But his father grabbed the tip of his blade and began wrapping it around his hand like a string, growing closer and closer. “You’ll never be strong enough to take me, Dolphus. I’m bigger than you are.” And then, as if to emphasize the point, he knelt down, impossibly large, and shoved his massive eye in Dolphus’ face. “And you’re smallerer than me.”
…no, NO! No!! It’s different - He wasn’t there! He never had to fight him!
Again.
Dolphus slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. The Swordmaster was polishing an apple on his uniform, but upon seeing Dolphus quickly switched to being Sickle Setroth, a malicious grin splitting across his face. “Welcome, young Gorov. Please pick up these before we begin.” A handful of fish heads fell frm his grip, but as Dolphus reached for them he slung one from his fingertips into his eye, forcing him to buckle and begin tearing up at the sting.
“Aw, you about to cry? I think I’d love to see it.” Setroth grinned, sticking his nose in Dolphus’ face briefly, repelled a moment later by the force of his wing, now unfurled and tensed.
“Alright, there!” Dolphus growled at Setroth, and then to the rest of the crew onboard the small fishing vessel. “You understand? I’m Dolphus Gorov, not Smith or Greylark or any other falsification, and- and I’m a freak!” He swung the wing in the air, pointing at it with the mop handle he had broken off during that confrontation. “Not even human! Irredeemable, I- I’ve killed him! I’ve killed that monster of a-”
There. In the back of the crowd, she was standing. A look of sadness so subtle and so piercing the world fell away at the light. The broken throat of Setroth could not compare to the broken heart reflected in the infinite stars’ light, so nestled in her eyes.
No, I can’t! Never! I won’t- I’d never-!
Again.
NO! Dolphus tore forwards, the mop handle flying from his grip as his feet outran the darkness. “Mother! I wouldn’t- I’d never let you go again!” His flailing arms were restrained and forced against his sides by two figures, who temporarily loomed out of the shadows.
On his left, the face of Alexis, who with worry and confusion held back both his tongue and his hand, while Jade held his other arm down, her eyes like daggers, daring him to try and break her grip. Dolphus found he could not put his full strength into defying them, his wounded eyes blurred from tears as he looked back at her.
Her. “Why can’t I find you again?!” He cried, fingers tensed, barely perceiving his feathered limb had returned to its normal state. His mother leaned in, reaching and halting just a hair shy of touching his chin, the faces of her doppelgangers fading back into the shadows.
“Be honest with yourself, Dolphus.” She whispered gently. “You’ll never find me again, nor will you stop looking. You can’t move on. What does that make you?”
The tears rolling down his cheek fell into the endless abyss below, and so did he, the bloodied stump of his arm stinging with phantom pains. Her face smiled at him until it disappeared from view in the night, which slowly brightened until it became the glow of the moon entering the sole window.
The ceiling stared back at his soaked eyes, listlessly adjusting until they could make out every separation in the boards, and eventually the grooves in between. Silently he pulled his wing back in, readjusted the rope used to keep it in place, and turned onto his side.
He knew what it made him.
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