when the straight and narrow gets a little too straight

[ensared]

Who: Gale, OTA
Where: Sports field/archery range
When: October 18
Rating: G
Summary: It's not really socializing, but, hey, she isn't hiding today.

Archery was an important part of Gale's life. Since he'd been a child, his father had taught him, showing him everything from which is the best wood to carve a bow from, how to string it, how to take aim and hit a target, and even how to make and fletch his own arrows so they wouldn't have to buy them. It's cheaper that way, and the Hawthornes never did have the money to spare.

After his father died, Gale had to take on the responsibility of keeping them all alive and fed and under a roof. It was difficult, but with his mother's help, they kept the kids going strong. Vick hardly knew what they'd lost. Posy didn't know their dad at all. The only thing they had left of him besides the honorary - useless - medal was the bow and arrows he and Gale had made together, so of course that was the crutch he leaned on when he needed to relax.

Things at school, even this one, are much calmer and far less stressful than they were at home, but it never occurred to him to stop shooting. That's what the archery club was for. Archery was one of the few things that could help him feel normal, so he was out again at the range, gauging just how far he can shoot accurately. Gale may not have been the best shot ever, but he had the strength for distance, and it showed. Some arrows hit the bullseye; others circled around it in a tight enough circle that he didn't bother trying to correct his aim that much. The further out he shot, however, the looser it got, and that was his focus for today.

If anyone asked how long he'd been out here, Gale would not be able to answer. It was too easy to lose track of time when he's going back and forth from targets to shooting position, or reaching for another arrow. It's a pattern, slow and methodical, easy to sink into and forget the rest of the world.

Comments

[toeverywhere]

Oh.

Oh.

Elizabeth had seen those sorts, in Finkton, before she'd left. Poor people, eating shoes to try to fill up their stomach. Perhaps Gale's family had never gotten that far, but it was still awful. Her stomach churned, and she swallowed hard. "I try to give what I can. If your family needs anything..." It was a sensitive topic, and she knew that. But she cared. She had more than enough money thanks to Comstock. Why not give it to people that she knew needed it?

She nods. "Smart. And real good advice. D'you teach anyone around here?"

[ensared]

“My family’s fine,” he says sharply, grabbing another arrow and falling quiet as he focuses on his aim. The last one was a little off; this time, he wants to hit the red, at least. Doesn’t have to be dead center, as long as it’s there.

Once the arrow is loose, Gale lowers his bow and stares out at the target. No one usually gets the implications of what he says. Lying about it isn’t something he likes doing, but it’s better than being the subject of anyone’s pity. Most of the time people assume it’s a joke just from the casual way he says it. But they get by. So what if it isn’t perfect, or luxurious? They have all that they need, and by coming here, Gale is getting even more than that.

Going back to her question, he replies, “Not really, unless you count the archery club. Most of them already know how to shoot, though.”

[toeverywhere]

Liz purses her lips slightly. "Sorry." She didn't want to offend him. Not in a million years. But here she was. Her and her fat mouth.

She keeps quiet as he shoots, as he'd asked. But by the time he's done, she's already got a question. "Would you teach me? If this," she holds up her hand, the last knuckle of her pinky missing, replaced with a thimble, "isn't going to be a problem."

[ensared]

It’s less taking offense than it is not wanting to talk about it, but Gale isn’t offering an explanation. Why bother, when he doesn’t want to talk about it in the first place?

Pausing, he glances at her finger and is instantly curious. They’re not here to exchange stories about the past, though, he tells himself, and it doesn’t matter, anyway. “You don’t use that finger on the string,” he says instead, holding up the bow and pulling the string back in demonstration. “It shouldn’t be a problem, so I can teach you. We’ll just need to get you a bow.”

[toeverywhere]

She won't pry. For now, anyway. Sometimes, she can actually tell when it's time to leave well-enough alone. Booker was like that.

Elizabeth watches, nodding. "Perfect. I've done a little, but I've never been great. But you don't mind, do you? If you do, I won't make you."

[ensared]

“I don’t mind,” he assures her, picking up another arrow to nock it. But instead of taking aim, he offers the bow and arrow to Liz. “Want to give it a shot?”

[toeverywhere]

She reaches out, taking the bow and arrow.

"Just don't laugh. There's a reason I prefer guns if I have to."

[ensared]

“Believe it or not, I was bad at it when I first started, too,” Gale tells her, a note of amusement in his voice. And he has seen a few people in the archery club who aren’t the best at it, either. “I won’t laugh. Just try to hit the target.”

[toeverywhere]

"I don't believe you," Elizabeth said with a smile, coming to stand next to Gale. She readies the arrow, pulling her hand arm back. The string is tight, but she does it anyway, perhaps not as far back as she should have. Squinting, she shuts one eye and looks at the target. "I'm pretty sure you were born with a bow in one hand. I feel bad for your mom."

She looses the arrow, and it falls short.

[ensared]

Gale lets out a snort. Hazelle Hawthorne had said much the same before, back when his father had been boasting of his eldest son’s skill with the bow. He isn’t the greatest, of course, but it’s fair to say he qualifies as above average.

“Okay, first of all,” he begins, giving her a flat look, “don’t squint when you aim, and keep both eyes open. You’ve got two; it won’t hurt to use them. Second of all…” Gale looks at Elizabeth critically, eyeing her stance, body structure, and the bow in her hands. “My bow might be too much for you. You should start smaller.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “And maybe a little closer to the target.”

[toeverywhere]

Elizabeth looks over her shoulder at him and pouts. She'd spent a lot of time reading about this sort of thing. But reading and doing were two very, very different things.

"You're much larger than me," she confessed. It was, after all, a very glaring fact. "And- hey!" She wrinkles her nose at him, pretending to look aghast. But he was right.

[ensared]

Holding up his hands placatingly, Gale says, “I’m not saying you’re bad, I swear. Everyone has to start closer to the target; it’s normal.” The pout actually makes him smile as he casts a glance to the supply room door. “Give me a minute and I might be able to find a bow you can use.”

[toeverywhere]

"Suuuure you did. Go on. I'll be here." In the meanwhile, Elizabeth was going to notch up another arrow.

[ensared]

With a shrug of one shoulder, he headed on over to the supply room. The bows and arrows were usually kept on the left side wall, unstrung, and Gale took his time picking out the right one for Liz’s size and skill level. A 20 or 30 pound recurve should be more than doable, and he restrung it with ease and picked up a quiver of shorter arrows to match. And, for the sake of having it, he grabbed a compound bow as well before heading back out.

“Okay,” he said, setting the new quiver down next to his own. “Compound or recurve? The compound has a heavier pull, but it’s easier to hold once you get it back and nock the arrow. The recurve is lighter, but you won’t have that help. Your choice.”