Everything you (n)ever wanted to know about archery
Don’t watch Lord of the Rings, the Hunger Games, or Avatar. At least, not for the archery. Hollywood is stock full of misinformation and misrepresentation about archery. Sadly, not a lot of writers have the opportunity to really delve into the practice. So here is my all you wanted to know primer from how bows are constructed, to lining up and releasing the shot, to treating your friend’s nasty broadhead wound.
“Don’t you get it, Shiro?” Lance gripped the small screw in his hand, the pain giving him the focus he badly needed. “We don’t have a chance against the Galra. They outnumber us by millions. D’you think we can fight every fight, win every battle without any permanent casualties?”
“Don’t say that, Lance. I know you don’t believe that. Voltron is strong, we are strong as long as we work together as a team, we can defeat them.” Shiro took a step forward but the Galran soldier held him back. “Please Lance, don’t go.” Shiro pleaded, his voice so vulnerable that Lance almost turned and wrap Shiro in his arms…
Lance saw the glint in Lotor’s eyes. Lotor was Zarkon’s only heir, tasked to rule over his father’s empire and to bring an end to Voltron. His attempts were always a failure that it was almost funny. But after a few skirmishes here and there, Prince Lotor has learned Voltron’s strengths and weaknesses, so much so that he was able to execute a flawless plan that led them here.
“And what if I stay?” Lance turned to show Shiro a mockingly sweet smile. “What will I come back to?” In order to make this convincing, Lance needed to cut deep and true. He needed to open the floodgates and drown.
“A team who treats me like shit? That no matter what I do, I will never ever be enough? Because if that’s it, then I’d rather sell my soul to the devil that is the Galra than to be reminded every single fucking day that I am a worthless, good for nothing Paladin who’s just a waste of space.” Lance was doing damage, he was still wearing his helmet and the comms were live. He knew that, but once the floodgates that was his emotional control crumble, be ready to drown; survivors be damned. “You think I don’t hear the whispers and mutters of each of these people who have the balls to call me their friend? ‘Lance messed up again.’ ‘Guess who couldn’t keep it in their pants?’ ‘Why me? He’ll just mess up one way or another.’ Guess what fuckers, I heard all of that.” Lance felt his eyes burn, but not with tears this time.
“So tell me, Shiro, what good will come out with me coming back to those bastards, huh? And don’t say that the team will change or any of your leader bullshit because I know, based from experience, that people don’t change that easily. Hell, they’ll probably play nice because I’m a fucking time bomb. They’ll say sweet things because they know that if they mess up, I’ll do this again. I can practically hear Pidge saying it right now.” This is good. Lance didn’t want to let Shiro talk because he knew that his facade will crumble if he did.
“Please. If not the team, then me. Come back to me, Lance. I-I’ll be good to you, I promise. Lance, please. I-I love you, Lance. Don’t go please. I can’t lose you.” Shiro’s voice was watery and thin, that even in this distance, Lance can see the tears that glisten on his eyes.