Zlaw’s Echo

Standing in front of the king in his throne, the knight had his sword pointed at the sovereign’s throat. The warrior was panting so heavily that his shoulder rose up and down with every breath, but his blade stayed true. His light armour was banged up in places, and there were a few tears in what was visible of his chain mail. There was blood on the tunic he wore underneath, and cuts and bruises barred his face. His voice however rose loud and clear within the great hall. “I do not want your trophy, usurper. I have no use for it. I fought this tournament for the sole purpose of getting the opportunity to confront you, and finally bring justice to this realm. Your tin cup means nothing to me. Nor do the accolades of your consort, whom I hold in nearly as little esteem as you.” The chalice he was speaking of was on the ground at their feet, and the king’s court was gathered around them, frozen in place, fearing for their ruler’s life. None of them had ever imagined for a second, durin...

Siegfried et Vladas se sont disputés toute la matinée, mais sans savoir comment conclure. C’est bien là le problème (qui jusqu’ici n’en avait pas été un) de ne jamais l’avoir fait. Pour la première fois depuis leur rencontre, ils ne pouvaient pas se regarder dans les yeux. Ils ont eu des haussements de ton aussi bien que des moments de silence. Ils n’en sont pas venus aux mains, même s’ils ne sont pas passés loin. Sans le savoir, en faisant irruption dans l’appartement quand elle l’a fait, Jena leur a permis d’évacuer une partie de leur agressivité. La plupart des gens, à leur place, aurait claqué la porte au nez de l’autre bien avant le moment où ils ont enfin compris que c’était la seule chose à faire pour l’heure. Se tourner le dos n’est pas dans leurs habitudes, pas pour autre chose que de couvrir leurs arrières respectifs. Maintenant, contre toute attente, le Scandinave est sur le seuil du lieu de résidence des Homiens. Il a d’abord erré en ville, dans l’espoir de peut-être s’épu...

Gerard and Ernest were sitting face to face, at a table outside a fast food restaurant. The former had chips and a burger in front of him, while the latter was poking at a slice of pizza, deep in thought. “Ger’, am I dumb?” Ernest asked eventually. “Of course not. I can hear you just fine.” “You know what I mean…” Gerard’s shoulders slumped. He sighed and wiped the salt of his hands by rubbing them against each other. “Where is this coming from?” “My entire life so far?” This answer made Ger’ clench his jaws; he hated the way the world treated his best friend. “Ern’, as hard as it is to remember sometimes, we are not the way people see us. And even if we were, I don’t think you’re dumb, so there.” “I do dumb things.” “So do I. Everybody does. That doesn’t necessarily make us intrinsically stupid.” “But I’m not smart, either.” “Neither am I! We’re each clever in our own way, that’s all there is to it. We literally run a private investigation business together; I wouldn’t do...

“Zip me up, please?” the wife asked her husband. Holding the strapless dress she had just put on to her chest, she was peaking out from the bathroom into the bedroom, where he was tying his bow tie. He looked over his shoulder, away from the mirror and towards her, ogled her up and down, and smiled. “Hm. I had rather zip you down…” he commented cheekily. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I know. Maybe later, but not right now, or we’re going to be late. A little help, please?” “Fine!” he finally conceded. Dropping the narrow band of fabric around his neck, he covered the short distance that separated them, and she turned around so he could access the little slider currently resting in the small of her back. His smile widened as he slowly made it glide up, along her spine. Without even needing to look at him, she could feel him enjoying the task. It was as flattering as it was infuriating. “Are you done?” she asked, unsure that he had interlocked the tiny hooks at the top of the...

A sturdy man was sitting on an examination table, looking around him and dangling his legs like a little kid, unbothered by his surroundings that would make most people at least uneasy. A woman in a lab coat then came to him, going through the privacy curtain to reach him. “Good morning, Mister… Argyle?” “That’s right. Like the socks,” he confirmed. “My name is Doctor Durant, I’m an orthopaedist,” the woman introduced herself. He could not help but notice how pretty she was. He usually dealt with older male Doctors, so that was nice. “No offense, but aren’t health checks a bit above your pay grade?” he asked mischievously. “Well, I’m a physician first and foremost, regardless of the specialty I chose to pursue. Also, in this instance, my colleague insisted I be the one to take a look at you today.” Her patient nodded, and then took a deep breath that he let out in a sigh. “Look, Doc, I know my own chart. I was there for all of it. Granted, my first broken bone I was an infant,...

“Hey, dude, why is interrogation room four locked up and guarded?” “Oh, that’s because someone’s baking in there.” “Don’t you mean ‘stewing’?” “Nah. Because you see, stewing implies adding spices, a little something something to the secret sauce, before turning on the heat, whereas baking is slightly different; you just let the oven do its job all on its own.” “Is this the distinction you make between stewing and baking? Do you even know how to cook?” “Look, it’s a metaphor, it doesn’t have to be perfect, all right? The point is: it’s similar, but not exactly the same.” “Let’s say I see what you mean, what do you expect to happen without having added anything to the pot?” “This is a case of pre-made dough.” “Could we maybe drop the analogy for a second, please?” “Nope, because I don’t see any better way of explaining it to you.” “You literally haven’t explained anything since this conversation started! I’m beginning to think you’re the one who is baked!” “First off, that’s ...

Ce midi, Ellen se retrouve bien esseulée. Nelson n’a pas pu esquiver une invitation de Soledad, à court d’excuses crédibles. Quant à Mae, elle est toujours aussi mal à l’aise avec l’idée de manger au réfectoire. À la fois parce qu’elle ne peut pas vraiment manger, justement, en dehors de quelques rares ersatz de barres énergétiques confectionnées par son mystérieux soigneur, et à la fois à cause de l’incident qui s’y est produit un jour. La blondinette n’a pas voulu entrer dans les détails, mais elle a admis qu’elle en avait été secouée dans sa confiance en elle et son contrôle de ses symptômes. Elle a bien tenté d’emmener sa camarade déjeuner à l’extérieur, mais la météo n’avait pas emballé la marginale. Et finalement, Mae avait décidé d’en profiter pour enchaîner sa pause méridienne avec autre chose. — Hey. Cette place est prise ? interpelle une voix masculine alors qu’Ellen torture ses rondelles de carottes du bout de sa fourchette. — Oh, Nash. Salut. Maintenant oui, je suppos...

Three young men were walking down the street, chewing gum, sometimes spitting. Swaying their shoulders from side to side as they went, they wore sneakers and baggy clothes, and looked around them with a disturbing smirk which more often than not made people passing them by in the other direction change pavement. At one point, one of them threw the wrapping for his gum to the ground, without even looking at it. About a metre further down, the soft but distinct sound of metal rubbing against leather stopped them dead in their tracks. The one leading the group looked down in bewilderment at the long and narrow blade that now blocked his way. “Please, pick it up,” a male voice said. It came from the owner of the sword, who was sitting at a table on a café’s terrace, his back turned to them. He wasn’t even looking at them yet, because he was still busy silently apologising for the interruption to the person sitting in front of him. The other man did not seem to mind, and simply nodded i...

He had relieved the previous watchman of duty about an hour ago, and the main star was still not giving any sign of rising yet. He did not mind waking up this early, though. At any moment now, a light might shine on the horizon, other than a celestial one, and after that, there would be no time to waste. Missing it was not an option. The distant flame would mean two things: Firstly, their allies were still alive and fighting. Dead men did not light fires or cast spells. And conquerors would not try to lure them into a trap so soon after winning the battle. That would just be bad strategy, calling a new adversary to them, a fresh and rested one, just after vanquishing another, presumably at no small cost. Secondly, their allies were calling for their aid, which meant they would ride right away, weapon in hand. If assistance was not needed, then a couple of heralds would simply be sent in a few days, to inform them that the threat had passed. Flares were for emergencies, not communic...

Le processus de transfert du point de rassemblement depuis chez les Quanto jusqu’à la ferme investie par Jack a commencé le jour-même. Aucune raison d’attendre n’a été trouvée. Tout le matériel qui s’est accumulé depuis le début de ces aventures, soit à peu près depuis qu’Alek a quitté le service de l’Armée, a été assez rapidement même si non moins précautionneusement déplacé. De même, Gregor et Kayle ont été amenés. Une chambre a été octroyée au scientifique à lunettes, à l’étage de la bâtisse principale, l’une des rares a pouvoir déjà être considérées comme habitables. Une autre avait été envisagée pour le Homien, mais il lui a suffi d’un regard pour décliner l’offre. Afin d’apaiser les esprits, il a tout de même promis d’élire domicile dans la grange, où il s’attitrerait une cellule de confinement aussitôt qu’elle serait disponible. Chad, escorte obligée de son ancien Soigneur, n’a pas pu offrir de meilleure garantie. Ils savent tous à quel point la seule entrave physique qu’ils ont...

Theirs was the only car on the road, so he risked a quick glance at the little girl sleeping in the passenger seat. That’s what she was: a little girl. A child. According to her missing person’s poster, she had barely been eleven when she had disappeared. Or rather, had been taken, as he had now confirmed. She was around fifteen today, but she was still far from being an adult. Not that any of what had happened to her would be any easier to stomach if she had been… Getting back to his driving, a random beam of light they came across allowed him to catch a glimpse of his own reflection in the windshield, and he winced. There was some blood on his collar and at the corner of his jaw. He managed to wipe his face against his shoulder, but his clothing would not be so easily made clean. Shrugging, he zipped up his jacket to cover up the evidence. His passenger woke up abruptly, in a sweat, and only relaxed once she remembered where she was. She would probably do that for a long while. “...

With a sigh of satisfaction, she slowly slipped into the steamy water of her rose-scented bath. Petals floated on the surface, among the soap bubbles. “Ah! I definitely needed this,” she told her partner, sprawled onto a sofa nearby, between her and the chimney. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and the sound of crackling logs added to the cosy atmosphere of the big room in which they were alone. His eyes on a parchment, he however did not seem as relaxed as his travelling companion: “What? To simmer in your own warmed-up and liquefied filth for a while?” She kept her eyes closed and did not frown at his snarky comment. Evidently, she was quite used to his negativity. “Rest and recuperation, silly. This is really nice, you should try it; maybe it will get rid of those wrinkles on your forehead.” “Meh. Doubt it. I’m pretty sure I was born with them.” “Well, thank you again for agreeing to make this stop.” That expression of gratitude got half a smile out of him. “You’re ...

A couple of people are standing, facing the same way, in one of the exhibition halls of a museum. Various pieces of modern art are distributed here and there, each stranger than the next. Some of the visitors in the group have their head tilted, others their eyes narrowed, one even has his hand to his chin. They all seem very absorbed by what they are looking at. “I find it quite provocative,” a woman says eventually. “You do? I think it’s quite basic, actually. The red paint is very tacky. Too aggressive, without any nuance.” “Maybe that’s what’s so refreshing about it: how it goes back to the foundation of colour theory. Primary colours are underused, these days, and yet, red is eye-catching, brutal, transcendant.” “Besides, you can’t argue there is a multitude of layers to this piece, can you?” another woman adds to counter the man’s opinion. “Oh, please! This grotesque study of the human form? Round shapes for the female essence, long protuberances for the male one? It’s almo...

“Can I pet your bird, Sir?” The Rider, leaning against a wall next to his tall two-legged mount, looked down at the small child that had asked the question. He smirked. “I’m afraid not, kid. His feathers are razor sharp. That’s why I wear gloves like these.” He held out one of his hands, safely wrapped in the finest of chain mail, and wiggled his fingers. The same discreet protection was also on most of the outside of his long jacket, and covered the inside of his trouser legs. The child’s eyes widened. “What would a bird need feathers like that for?” “Well, see, my bird isn’t just any bird: he’s a War Bird. Legend has it that at one point they were given the choice between fight and flight, and they picked the former. They could have opted to soar high up in the skies, away from the world’s problem, but instead, they decided to stand tall on the ground against evil and injustice. They say that’s also why they’re so big.” The bird squawked and tilted its head, as if in agreement...