[Flashback] Shaping a Future (Stitch)

[Mason Sinovian]

Timestamp: 15th Day of Summer, 500 AV A hot wind rose from the south granting a brief respite from the steady pounding of the sun's ruthless rays. Moving the scythe back and forward, Mason thrashed through wheat feeling the muscles in his arms and chest tighten, growing sorer as time passed by. He had been harvesting wheat for nearly 5 hours, judging by the sun, and he was finally reaching the end of what he needed to clear for the day. Thankfully, he didn't have to work alone today. "Hey, Jimmy! How much more time do you think we have out here? The sun is starting to give me a headache." complained Mason as he dropped the scythe, took off his straw hat and wiped the sweat from his brow." Jimmy appeared startled and just shrugged as he continued gathering the fallen wheat. All around them lay bushels of wheat that they would need to load in their tow cart and bring back to home when their job was done. "Come on, man. I need a drink. I'm sure you could use one too." suggested Mason as he put his straw hat back on and wandered over to his backpack. Grabbing his bag, he untied the strings and pulled out his waterskin. Drawing a deep gulp of water then splashing some on his face, Mason sighed with contentment. "I am ready for today to be over!", asserted Mason becoming excited that they were almost done and that he would have the next couple of days off. Jimmy looked over at Mason from under his straw hat, and nodded while he sipped from his own waterskin. Storing his waterskin and retying the strings to his backpack, Mason walked back to his fallen scythe and returned to thrashing the wheat. Right, left then right. Long sweeping arcs. Right, left then right. Step forward. Right, left then right. A few moments later, cresting over a low rise on the South Kabrin Road, Mason was barely able to see sun gleaming off metallic armor over the uncut wheat. The bright light was a long ways away, but it appeared to be moving towards the Mithryn Outpost with a horse drawn cart carrying people in tow. Must be the Green Company., he thought to himself. After a couple more hours and the passing of the Knights and various other people that Mason couldn't really see, he and Jimmy finally bundled up their last bushel of wheat and loaded up their cart to head home. Beat by the sun, and arms feeling like wet noodles, Mason opened the front door to his house and nearly collapsed after closing it. Moving like a slug to the kitchen to wash up and see what his mother had prepared for dinner, he heard a familiar voice telling a story and his mother responding and laughing. "Stitch?" he whispered feeling completely drained. "Is that you?"

[Stitch]

The minute Mason's voice whispered out into the kitchen, Stitch spun in his chair, a massive grin stretching it's way across his handsome face.The skinny little kid flew out of of the kitchen stool that he had been perched on, deep black eyes flickering with un-contained excitement, an excited yelp exploding out from his lips. Stitch was always like this the first few days he was here; a little hellion of un-contained energy. It wasn't that long of a ride to the Mythrin outpost, but Stitch always acted like the ride had been something of a prison. Sometimes when he described it to the curious children of the outpost, he gave these crazy tales about being tied up, and strictly told not to have any fun. Perhaps that was the story he had been telling Mason's mother, as the woman gave Mason a wink and a roll of her eyes as he wearily stepped into the kitchen. 'Stitch is at it again' her eyes said, a bemused smile on her lips.

Stitch crashed into Mason, performing something of a painful flinging flying tackle hug. The Sylirian orphan seemed to care little about how tired Mason was, simply splaying himself out on the farm boy, bringing them both to the ground in a painful heap. "This one brought you a gift. This one had to hide it in the fields before this one came in, but we can go see it, later. It is a practice sword." The sudden words came whispered, right into Mason's ear, and it would become clear why Stitch had over-exaggerated his greeting so much. He had a secret he wanted to pass on to Mason, one that could get them both in trouble, yet he had wanted to get it out as soon as possible.

With a rather charming grin, Stitch sat up, black eyes sparkling under a mop of black hair. Stitch pointed at the straw hat set atop his head, cocking a thumb back at Mason's mother. "Look at what your mom made this one! After the sunburn this one got last year, your beloved mum must have took some pity on me!" He turned at the waist, not yet getting off of Mason, simply arching to give his mother a wink. "Thank you, milady!" Turning back to Mason, Stitch raised an eyebrow at him, that playful grin still stretched out across his face. "What's the matter? Tired? And here this was thinking you actually had some muscle to you..." Stitch poked at the ribs of Mason, teasing the young boy like he always did. Stitch would never admit it aloud, but Mason was the brother that Stitch secretly hoped he would have. He had been coming to this farm for three summers straight now, and whispers of an adoption had started to get flung about. Such whispers were rather common at the Welcome Home, but Stitch couldn't help but get his hopes up. This family was a nice one, and he would love to become part of it.

He remained perched atop Mason, grinning down at him, as if daring the farm boy to try and get Stitch off. They had wrestled quite a bit in their time, and neither one ever really came out on top. Mason was the stronger of the two, but Stitch had a little technique that some Martial Artist in Syliras had taught him. Perhaps they could settle their eternal tie this year!

[Mason Sinovian]

In the blink of an eye, Mason was on the floor tangled in a heap of limbs and clothes. "Stitch!" grunted Mason as he tried to breath and ignore the resurfaced pain in his arms and chest. "When did you..." As Mason began his excited banter, he realized that Stitch was whispering into his ear about hiding a practice sword in the field. Memories about his father's teachings flooded into his mind. Listen here, my boy. Day dreamin' about Knights, swords, and the like ain't gonna get those ears of corn off the stalk. We have the most important job in Sylira, Mason. If there were no farmers, where would food come from? How would people eat? The desire to uphold his father's teaching was bearing down causing a tumultuous reaction inside his brain. "What's the matter? Tired? And here this was thinking you actually had some muscle to you..." said Stitch as he poked Mason back to reality. Faster than a rabbit caught eating lettuce in his mother's garden, Mason knew what he wanted to do and did his best to roll and dislodge Stitch. Realizing he couldn't budge Stitch, Mason roared and tried to flail and shake off the young black haired beast. Get off, Stitch! barked Mason. Lets take this outside, punk! There was still plenty of light left in the day.

[Stitch]

Stitch grinned, riding Mason through his roll, managing to shift his weight enough to continue his full mount through. As Mason settled down underneath him, realizing that a half-hearted roll wasn't about to work, Stitch braced himself for what was about to come next. Mason flexed those muscles of his, let out a roar, and simply bucked. Stitch was sent flying, flailing through the air, wildly throwing his arms and legs about before crashing to the wooden floor. As quickly as he was downed though, he was back up, the hyperactive young orphan springing from foot to foot. "There ya go, Mason! You have gotten even stronger than you were last year! But guess what, this one is even stronger too!" Stitch instantly blurred into a variety of wild punches and kicks that appeared to have some form of rhythem to them, although it still managed to look mostly like impressive flailing.

Mason's mother was quick to handle the situation, and approached Stitch and Mason both, waving her broom at them. "I think taking it outside would be a good idea, boys." Stitch quickly shot her a winning smile, nodding, tipping an imaginary hat to her. "Yes ma'am! Sounds like a great plan to this one!" Stitch shot Mason a look, not even caring if the boy had managed to make it to his feet yet. "Let's race!" And just like that, Stitch was out the door, arms churning and legs pumping.

The boy must have been REALLY pent up on the ride from Syliras.

Out he ran, heading toward the cornfield that he had hidden the practice sword in. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mason was somewhat keeping up, if not gaining on him, Stitch kept at a good pace. Farm equipment sometimes came in his way, but the young boy was quick to hop over them, showing off a bit of his young grace. It was when a particularly large pile of wooden buckets came in Stitch's way, that Mason would perhaps get a bad feeling to his gut. Stitch had a bad habit of biting off things that were a bit more than he could chew, and this was one of those things. He had seen the large pile in his way, and he had sped toward it even faster than before, a mischevious gleam to his eye. It was easily about double his height. Was he thinking he could jump over it?

"Front flip!"

Stitch yelled out his intentions, as if announcing some kind of special fighting move. Of course he wasn't going to jump over it. He was going to try and flip over it. Stitch ran, crouched low, and flung himself head over heels. He didn't really have any idea how to do any kind of flip, but he figured it was best to try, right?

With a rather large crash, Stitch smashed directly into the middle of the wooden buckets, sending the containers flying everywhere.

[Mason Sinovian]

After much struggle, he finally succeeded in dislodging Stitch by flailing and sending his friend though the air. Mason saw Stitch bounce back onto his feet and avoid his broom wielding Mother that was slowly coming to sweep them out of the house. Rolling off his back and onto his side, Mason heard Stitch taunt him with a race and immediately begin running for the door. Still getting to his feet, feeling a bit sore, he wouldn’t give up the opportunity to get revenge on Stitch for anything. Running to the door before his mothers broom could force him out, Mason followed Stitch into the early evening light. "I’ll be back in a little while!" Shouted Mason over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Looking at Stitch a good thirty feet ahead with his arms pumping – legs blurring, Mason tried his best to catch up before Stitch made it to the fields. Jumping over the same pieces of equipment that Stitch was jumping over, not to be outdone by his companion, Mason saw Stitch head towards the pile of wooden buckets used for collecting water. What the wheat is Stitch doing? Thought Mason feeling perplexed and intrigued at the same time. Suddenly, Stitch announced his intentions and flung his body head over heals right into the buckets. Buckets exploded, clanged and cracked as the young boy landed on the pile. Still running, Mason skid and came to a complete stop near the remnants of a broken and still spinning bucket ten feet away from his crazy friend. "By the grains!" Croaked Mason feeling winded from his sprint. "Stitch! Stitch! " Bolting towards his friend, Mason tried to climb over the buckets in some frenzied rescue mission. Stepping over broken chunks of bucket, Mason continued on. Almost to Stitch, Mason continued his run and put all his weight on a bucket that was turned on its side. Before Mason knew what was happening, the bucket rolled and his legs shot backward causing him to land with a resounding crack and a face full of dirt.

[Stitch]

Stitch staggered up from among the pile of buckets he had crashed too, blood running down his chin from a bit of a bloodied lip. He weaved and stumbled a bit, looking quite dazed, glancing around to see where Mason had gone. Thinking the boy had managed to catch up to the lead Stitch had gained, Stitch hurriedly snapped his head around, checking toward the cornfields for his friend. Had he already won the race, and was he already playing with the sword? No, no, that was silly. Stitch was the only one who knew where the sword was. Maybe the boy was hiding? Stitch thought it might be best to go ahead and call for him, just in case. Maybe Mason didn't know that Stitch had taken such a rough spill. "Maaaaaason!" Stitch bellowed the name out, his voice groggy and raspy. His head hurt, and the world was swimming. He would have to practice that front flip just a little more, in a place that didn't involve him landing in a huge pile of really hard objects.

Stumbling to the side a bit, Stitch's foot smacked into something alive. Yelping, he jumped back a little, nearly falling over a few of the buckets laying around. Taking a closer look, he quickly realized it was just Mason, sprawled out in quite the awkward fashion. Letting out a sigh of relief, he nudged at Mason, pushing at his prone body with the tip of his toe. The idea that Mason might be seriously hurt was foreign to Stitch. They were both young boys. They were invincible, right?

Stitch would happily help Mason up if the boy would allow him, then would quickly lead the farm boy to the cornfield where the sword was hidden, and then straight to it. He had placed it at a little clearing in the middle where some of the corn had been riddled with bugs, and burnt to prevent spreading. There the wooden sword lay, looking exactly like a real katana. It was even painted to resemble the real deal. The only difference was the length, as it was about half a foot to a foot shorter than the actual thing. Stitch grinned as his friend, gesturing to it, letting him know he could go ahead and pick it up. "It is all yours, Mason. Hope you like it."

[Archon]

Illumination of Development Mason Sinovian +1 Farming +1 Wrestling Lores: Water makes a long day better, Buckets are dangerous Care to see more? : A little Farming experience for your intro, and a bit of Wrestling for the bit of wrestling in the house. Stitch +1 Wrestling +1 Acrobatics Lores: Front Flip (Poor), Boys are invincible (So they think) Care to see more? : A hint of Acrobatics experience for the beautifully failed flip, and a touch of Wrestling for the eager greeting/pinning. Notes:Boys will be boys, and they certainly were here. Lots of energy!