faderift | and then I passed out in the snow

WHO: Church, the poor sobs trying to train or are nearby
WHAT: Someone got a crossbow at the suggestion of some spirit inhabiting a boy. It's got a trigger! See this for basically the gist.
WHEN: tbh a couple of afternoons in late Wintermarch. "today" mostly
WHERE: Training grounds (for bows, not the swordy part)
NOTES: There can be ~~arrows to the knees~~ injuries of the bow type if you'd really like, though it would be through hilarious and dangerous accident

Crossbows. Yeah, that sounded up his alley, the closest thing to a gun. He'd have to thank whatshisface. Cole. Yeah. Thank that tall squirrely kid. Church picked a basic, simple version from the armorer, a couple of bolts, and headed down to the training grounds where all those people practice with their weapons in safe-ish environments.

Okay, now, granted he should probably have told someone. Someone more in charge, maybe. But what's the point if you can't come down and train whenever you want? Huh? Obviously not everyone needs some teacher looming over their shoulder. He misses having a sight, though. Misses his rifle. Misses...a lot of things.

The shitty thing about missing targets though is that, well, bolts are kind of a finite resource. So are bullets, but he doesn't usually have to go hunting for them after. They end up...places. Places where bolts should not generally land, when one is hitting a target. No matter how he adjusts his stance, his sighting, his...literally anything, he never hits the goddamn target. If anyone watches him, there is not a single time a bolt hits at anything he's pointing at/aiming for. They sure end up in walls, and trees, and other targets somehow that aren't the one he's aiming at.

Someone maybe should stop him before he breaks his weapon or hurts someone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Why couldn't it be a quiet day? Christine likes quiet days when no one is hurt and she can just relax and focus on her spirit healer studies. But today is not a quiet day. It's a day where a soldier comes running to the healer tents, shouting about some mad man with no idea how to fire a crossbow firing wildly at targets and not hitting a one.

"Maker have mercy," Christine says, closing her book and hurrying to gather a satchel of supplies before hurrying that way. Surely someone is going to be struck by a bolt. But when she gets down there and sees Church and the spread of bolts he's in the middle of retrieving, she can't help but laugh.

"What is all this? Why are the bolts so far from the target?"

Oh no. Oh no. Don't get distracted by pretty ladies, Church, you got this. At least he's not actually aiming at anything right now and is just slamming another failed bolt away. "Uh. I can explain." Is it going to sound good? "It's because I keep missing the target." No it is not. "Because I'm- I'm just not used to this crude level of technology! It's really different, okay!"

Her amusement can't really be dimmed, especially when he starts explaining himself. She's come to realize that whenever Church opens his mouth, he just digs himself a deeper hole.

"Is the aiming part really so different?" she asks, coming closer. "I know little of these matters, but it must somehow translate to what you are used to using, no?"

It's a gift. Curse. "Well, I mean, the gun--the weapon I had before was meant to be used at long distances. I mean long distance, like, farther than I'm pretty sure you could fire an arrow from like a skilled marksman sort of person. Very high tech." When he remembered how to make it zoom. "Very steady weapon, too. This has a...degree of error to it that I'm trying to compensate for." He waves a hand up in the air. "And the wind's got an impact, too. I didn't have to worry about something like that before!"

"Mmm. It kicks, does it not? And you've been readjusting." Her smirk is back in place. She simply can't help it. He is so far off from the target!

"Perhaps you should have an instructor."

"I can figure it out!" he grumbles, y'know, in a manly way. "Just needs more practice and time. Rome wasn't built in a day. Or, like, this place wasn't built in a day, either."

"All right," she says mildly, seeing how annoyed he is. "Practice will make quite a difference. In time, I will hear tales of your skill and people will gather here to watch you hit the center of the target and they will swoon."

He looks over at her, considering her words, and narrows his eyes in a suspicious sort of way. "You're making fun of me," he says slowly. And without a pout. That is definitely not a pout. It's an accusing, grumpy face!

"Here I thought you would enjoy the idea of people swooning over you!" she says. "This is the thanks I get for trying to lift your spirits?" Christine clicks her tongue at him before considering the crossbow he has.

"May I try it?" It's not that she thinks she'll hit the target, but it's not something she's ever tried before.

"...Swooning does sound good. I'd like to see people lining up to swoon."

Uh. Hm. A delicate mage with a big bad crossbow. ...Eh, she can't really do any worse than he's doing, right? He hands it over. "Yeah, knock yourself out. Not literally. Just put it up against your shoulder and keep a firm grip so it doesn't like...fly out of your hands or anything when the bow snaps."

"Maybe they will if you become truly skilled at this." It's... not too likely, but it could be a goal to work towards?

Christine takes up the crossbow, making a face at the weight of it. Now she's not even sure she'll be able to fire off a shot. It feels too heavy to lift and aim. But she puts it against her shoulder, glad her hair is pulled back so it doesn't get caught in the string. She presses it firmly to her shoulder, but it wavers back and forth a bit as she tries to hold it up. Once she gets it somewhat steady (and once she's sure Church won't move in front of her at the last second), she fires, jerking back with a little yelp at the kick. The bolt flies low, dropping down to the right of the target.

"This is far heavier than I could reasonably hold and shoot."

"That's cuz you're more like a delicate flower, muscle-wise. You've got your magic to sling around, though. I doubt anyone's mastered everything." He takes back the bow carefully. "I mean, imagine a huge muscle-god of a mage who can also run and gun with a crossbow in one hand and an axe in the other. Damn. That'd be the ultimate soldier or something."

She gives him a fond smile at the delicate flower comment, because she can hardly deny it. Christine isn't built for big battles.

"As if some don't fear mages enough already. That would be a fearsome sight. And probably possible among the Avvar and their mages. I have no idea how they fight, but the stories seem to speak of huge warriors. Surely their people must have mages too."

"I guess so." Though his brow furrows. "The magic thing. That's just like...passed down through parents, right? So technically anyone who's got it in their blood could be a mage? Does anyone know where it came from, or it's just a thing that happened to some people?"

Christine's smile fades slightly and she takes a deep breath. The issue of children is a bit of a sore spot for her, though he has no way of knowing that. Christine is mothering; there is no doubt about that. She is a born worrier, and can be said to care too much at times. She would make a wonderful mother, but it wasn't allowed in the Circle. And now? Well, the world is in chaos now. Who knows when it will end? It's not a world to bring a child into, not as a mage uncertain of her future.

"It can be. In Tevinter, they make alliances between strong mages in order to have strong mage children. But it is no always so. My parents were not mages, and I believe it was several generations back that a sibling of one of my ancestors was a mage." She glances away for a moment. "Some like to say that being given magic is a punishment for our sins. Others say it is a gift from the Maker, but only to serve others and not rule over them. The Chant of Light says as much, and people believe it. Growing up in the Tower, mages are discouraged from having relationships. If we have children, they are taken away from us and watched for magic. If they show signs, they are sent to another Circle Tower. If not, they are forced into service to the Chantry."

and then I passed out in the snow

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