[Open] "Bored."

[seesobserves]

WHO: Sherlock Holmes and Open
WHAT: Working off some steam by way of target practice
WHEN: Early Firstfall
WHERE: Skyhold training grounds
NOTES: Either prose or brackets welcome!

The first arrow seems to land wildly off-course, on the very edge of the target, but the archer who fired it keeps an impassive face while he raises the next one. To anyone who happens to be watching, it's clear this time that he actually is taking aim.

The second arrow hits the entire other edge of the target. Sherlock draws the third, notches it, takes aim.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The arrows fly in more rapid succession as he goes on. While the lines aren't perfect, it soon becomes apparent that instead of aiming for the bulls-eye, he's firing a pattern into the target: specifically, a smiling face.

Comments

[seesobserves]

The eyebrow that was previously arched notched up slightly at the display of skill. All right, so the idiot had some utility. That, at least, explained what he was doing here in the first place, despite all those burns and scuff-marks on his person.

"Well, you did just shoot him three times in the face." On some level, he disliked the idea of giving this premise any credence, but it irked him that the elf wasn't even keeping things consistent with his little game. He wasn't the one who made the face look angry, after all.

[slipshot]

Gavin turned to grin at him, immediately pleased that he seemed to have broken through whatever had been holding Sherlock back from actually playing the game. The fact that the game had absolutely no consistency, rules, or sense, was somewhat beyond the point.

"Shooting people does seem to have that effect, doesn't it?" He asked cheerfully. "See? I told you it would. But now that he's angry I might as well put him down, before he tries to get me in my sleep."

His tongue slipped out between his lips as he concentrated - firing another arrow to land just off the target, narrowly missing one that was already there, and scraping its fletching.