[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/cd83dc89-6413-49cc-9e8d-a9fba609a17b.png [/img][/center][right][sub][@Obscene Symphony] [/sub][/right]
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On the other end of the field, an arrow planted itself firmly into the sand a few feet from its target. If one had traced the origin of its arc, they’d find it lead to a non-descript bow being shakily held in the hands of one Kellen Fraldarius, with little emotion crossing his face as he reached for another arrow from his quiver.

It was a rare thing to see Kellen without his sword. Ever since the return to Luin Village, he had taken great pains to never leave his room without it. Indeed, even now, Kellen felt his balance was off, the familiar weight on his left hip replaced by a new sensation of a quiver hanging off his back. Even the Deer’s House Leader seemed to pick up on the strangeness, a fact that was made all the more alarming by the fact that Kellen had the distinct feeling that Jorah knew next to nothing about him. 

In the previous days, Kellen had held onto a vague hope that perhaps, like some of his other classmates, his parents would withdraw him from the school. He had even thought of writing to explain the danger, but had ultimately decided against after his fourth attempt at such a letter had left him with a stomach ache that lasted for a few hours.

After realizing there would be no formal exit from the academy, Kellen had toyed with the idea of running away. He was sure though, that if either the academy or his family found him, he’d be sent back. And there was no way he’d settle down in some anonymous village without walls, where any band of raiders could come by and blow up half of it without the timely intervention of a bunch of students. 

Reflecting on his situation, it was clear he only had one option. Survive the year at this academy. Survive the missions, and whatever other dangers – real or perceived – that would be coming his way. This realization, terrible though it was, gave Kellen some sense of uneasy peace. He could try to exert some control over his situation, try to avoid being put in reach of whatever harm seemed to be coming for him.  
It was with this sentiment in mind that Kellen had grabbed a bow from the rack, crossing paths with Jorah and earning the aforementioned look. He had kept his eyes towards the ground as he took his position, doing his best to avoid looking at any of the Lions or professors. Jorah’s look had been enough. 

As Kellen looked at the stray arrow that had landed a distance from the target, he saw Jorah’s arrows find their targets in rapid order. [color=FFAB66]“Maybe next we’ll shoot apples off heads, eh?”[/color] Kellen took care not to let himself be distracted. If this next shot were to fall short, he could see Auberon, Michail, or any other number of people insisting he put this stupid bow down and grab a sword. And if that happened, he’d be back on the front line the next time the school sent them on a “training exercise”. 

Finally succeeding in fishing an arrow out of his quiver, Kellen set it against the string. He sucked in his breath as his arm drew the string back, pulling it further back than he had the last time. As he loosed, he felt that familiar sense of blood rush to his head, but it dissipated quickly when the arrow sunk itself into the bottom of the target. It wasn’t nearly as precise as Jorah’s shots, but it was still in his mock opponent, and that was good enough. He turned to his right to look at him. [color=63a2e4]“Maybe not yet.”[/color] He said with the smallest of smiles.