(Word count: 8273)
Mornings at the training ground are busy, Sunoo learns.
He only ever really see's the stretch of field when it's near empty, save for one or two lone stragglers working on their skill set long after their training sessions have expired and the suns starting to set, but now, as the sun instead blares down heavy on the crown of his head and warms his back through the thin fabric of his tunic, he can't help but feel almost intimidated at how full it is with recruits.
For not only is every single target in use, several lines of young, eager eyed men and women wielding crossbows made of the finest wood and string, but the sound of clashing metal sits rife in the air, a cacophony of an ear drum rattling tempo as swords collide and breathless, strained grunts fill the air in tandem. Sunoo's never seen soldiers in training before (at least not in real life or dramatised tv) , but he can't help the chill that rolls down his spine as he watches one particularly burly man swing his sword with such force toward his opponent that he's near positive the poor mans breastplate is going to crack right down the centre.
As the sound of fighting breaks the usually peaceful air around him and reverberates deep in his chest, Sunoo can't help but grip his bow a little tighter, palms slightly sweaty with what he doesn't want to admit is awkward intimidation.
"Still moping?"
Sunoo feels his expression sour, and he doesn't have to turn and look at Jake to know the other's flashing his signature boxy grin. He can hear the smile in his voice clearly enough, as though he's getting a little too much entertainment out of watching Sunoo switch between glaring holes across the training ground and casting self conscious, timid looks over his shoulder every time he shoots at his target and misses.
It's not even like he was supposed to be here, annoyingly enough.
No, he'd been dismissed from reading duty at the schoolhouse for the day after Ida had unceremoniously booted him out through the door, grouching loudly over his silly whining and moping around.
(Which he wasn't- at all.)
'You're scowling far too much for the kids to take you seriously - You look just like one one of them like this. Sort it out before you come back, Kim.' She'd rattled off, squinting her beat eyes at him, are folded and the grit of her jaw powerful.
He'd been astounded for all of two seconds, petty betrayal only mounting as the woman slammed the door in his face, and had briefly contemplated barging his way back in because honestly, he needed a distraction from the rest of his life which was quite frankly- chaos personified, when Jake had found him, standing there pouting at the building like an offended child in the middle of serving a particularly nasty time out.
He'd been sympathetic at first, which had quickly morphed into breathless chuckles as Sunoo pouted and whined around being kicked out.
And it hadn't taken him long to sling an arm around Sunoos neck and drag him toward the training grounds, deeming that if he wanted a true distraction, it was there he ought to go.
He thinks that his friend might've just appreciated the fact Sunoo needed something to physically hit and let his anger out on - to which he couldn't really complain about.
And so that's how he'd ended up standing on the edge of the training ground, practicing not on a target, but a rather thick, old and gnarled tree with a wooden slat nailed to it instead, Jake lounging on the grass behind him and moving between making rather loud, un-helpful suggestions every now and then and threading the stems of daisies together to form pretty little crowns. (Within an hour he was on his sixth, and Sunoo wouldn't admit it but he was rather impressed.)
