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(Because Faith sucks at drawing sooo-)
Homework #1
Her hazel-ish eyes looking around, the first thing she did was go to the oak wood. Why? Because she felt it would be the be the best, and the strongest material for a bow and arrow. Her hands taking wood poles and ebony and steel. Her eyes filled with determination and motivation. She was determined to do the best she could, even if it meant she would fail. No. She couldn't think that way. She had to believe in herself. Battle isn't always being strong physically, but also in the mindset. If someone is in her way, she had no choice but to keep swinging. Just keep going she decided. The blacksmith helping as she drew out what she wanted to have happen. The sounds of metals colliding and smell of things cooling filling her senses.
Sage stood over her weapon, she had been working there for hours. She'd accidentally cut herself several times as she carved the the oak wood into the shape she had wanted it. The blacksmith, as she had requested, helping her to get the steel arrowheads on top of her arrows. The fine hair of a unicorn mane made the bowstring. The finest leather made up the quiver, with melted gold in it to create a design of what looked to be birds dancing on the outside. She pursed her lips into a thin, white line as she continued to forge the gold into intricate designs as the ebony at the top of her bow was forged. The shooting glove made of leather, with the fine silk of a silkworm woven to create string. Going the length of her hand to her forearm.
Time for a test run. Archery was a skill commonly found in the kingdom of Cirillo, so she supposed it made sense to at least try her weapon out. With a look to the blacksmith, signalling she may be back, she walked outside, where she then slung the quiver smoothly over her shoulder. So far, so good. As she continued, she put her quiver over her shoulder smoothly. So far, so good. As she put her arrow to her string, she drew the arrow back, aiming at the middle of a tree trunk. Steady, steady..now! And then the arrow zinged through the air, hitting where she had aimed. A sense of pride over came the young coal-haired girl. She may not be inheriting the throne like her brother, but it didn't mean she couldn't try to know the skills and abilities that are commin in her country. For her yo pick a sword would be for her to pick the easiest way for her to die. Swinging a sword without knowledge wouldn't fit for her, so it was better to stick to something she knew. She shot another, and again, it flew through the air seamlessly. It worked. Her creation, despite the many cuts, burns and bruises it had taken to get there, worked. The young lady went to get it, pulling them out of the tree's trunk, and putting them in her quiver. As she set the quiver down on the blacksmith's table, she examined it. Was there truly anything more to be done? Or could she do better? Who knows.
