faderift | Post-Battle Blues

WHO: Taas + Open
WHAT: Taas deals with Stuff™ and Things©
WHEN: Backdated to after the dragon fight.
WHERE: Outside the Gallows, the docks, etc.
NOTES: Very mild gore vaguely described.

He was lopsided. That was what bothered him the most, really. It made his neck ache after a while and Taas knew he should make a decision wether he should cut the other horn as well or find a cap to balance it out. He wasn't sure why he was stalling, really. The other wounds were fine and had been looked over and healed, bruises and cuts a memory and his split ear neatly trimmed so it didn't wiggle like a badly cut piece of meat when he walked.

All in all, it didn't bother him. So why was he so hesitant about it?

The warrior sighs, rubbing his sore neck a bit as he heads for the training grounds haphazardly put up outside the Gallows, mace at his shoulder and a thoughtful look on his face. He should be resting, he knows. They just got back. He shouldn't be pushing himself in case something tore open or his horn core started bleeding again. Taas usually listened. He was a good soldier.

...right now he was just too damn antsy to rest.

(Maybe, just maybe it had something to do with the dragon's tooth in his pack.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Natasha's goal on any given day at the training grounds is not to use the makeshift equipment set up there. It's to find someone to fight with, or someone to pick over for information. With Taas looking like he's been chewed up by a dragon and spat back out, he very quickly becomes the most interesting person in her field of vision as soon as he enters it. So she slips off the stack of crates and sidles up next to him. "You sure you should be down here? Those look fresh."

The big warrior glances down at the redhead suddenly by his side, and he smiles a little bit both in confusion and greeting. Company was not exactly expected, but he definitely couldn't complain.

Well, maybe he could complain about one thing. Stopping to face her, he shakes his head slightly. "I bet you have a lovely voice, but I can't hear you. You have to look at me when you speak." Taas says softly, his big fingers signing gracefully as he does.

"I read lips really well."

Her own turn to be surprised. She hasn't met many people who look as competent in a fight as he does (scars are just the proof that you're able to walk away) and can't even hear the enemy coming. He must have developed very impressive ways of adapting. She's curious.

Natasha doesn't apologize, but she does nod her understanding. "I said, those look fresh." Her own hands move through the words as she speaks, though her sign language is far from perfect. She uses it to communicate silently over distance, not to speak face to face. For her it's shorthand, a sort of code. So instead of fresh, she signs new. Then she sweeps her hand away from her head, moving in a curve that mimics his horn, her palm jutting down sharply where it now ends abruptly. She's not foolish enough to reach for his.

He brightens up a lot wen she starts signing to him, even if it's very basic. Smiling, Taas continues to speak out loud while he signs, and his voice doesn't carry any tone of him being deaf from birth. It has a bit of an accent to it, though.

"I know. We fought a high dragon and she decided to slap me." He reaches up gingerly to touch the horn. "It takes a bit getting used to... so I wanted to do some training." Partly true, really. Still, he was a mess and he should rest.

"I'm Taashath. You can call me Taas." He shows her his name sign.

She smiles in response to his smile, mirroring his reaction. "I'm Natasha," she says, and her hands form the letters of her name slowly, because she's not used to this part so much. "You can call me Nat. It's nice to meet you, Taas." Her hands are bit clumsy over new symbols, but she mimics what he's done as best she can, and with a little more practice, she'll probably have it down.

"My-- words are limited." She has no idea what the gesture for vocabulary is. "It's not often necessary." She also leaves out or hesitates over some of the smaller and less essential words. Using this method of communication for full sentences is not reflexive for her. For instance, though she says it's out loud, she hasn't signed it once.

Natasha was a difficult name, so he attempts to repeat it in words. So sorry for the butchering of your name, Nat. "...the shorter version might work best," he admits with a small chuckle. "It's very nice to meet you too. I don't think I've seen you around."

Her hesitation of the signs makes his features soften a bit, and he hsakes his head. "It's alright. I read lips very well," he says with another small smile. "You do not have to force yourself."

Still, it was rare to meet people that signed, even if with a limited vocabulary. Sign language was more about describing things rather than outright translation, anyway. "I do teach sign language, mostly to scouts but to anyone interested as well. If you ever want to expand your knowledge."

"It's always good to learn new skills. Improve old ones." She does believe this, and while formal lessons might make her feel too much like a child in school, practicing with him, having him talk to her with his full vocabulary and learning from the shape of his own hands, she can do that. "Would you like to fight? You are larger, more solid, stronger, but I am quick. It might help you to adjust your balance and coordination for the weight difference. Combat readiness is ninety percent preparation." What may or may not catch his attention here is the list of words she does not stumble over, the words that her hands for easily and fluidly - fight, larger, solid, stronger, quick, balance, coordination, weight, combat, preperation. Those movements are second nature to her fingers, almost reflexive.

He takes a moment to look her over, leaning the mace to the side as he does. It might look like he's measuring her up - she barely reached to his armpit - but it's not because he doubted she could take him on. She was definitely a rogue, and those tended to be his biggest problems. Fast as hell, most likely, and she knew what she was doing. It was the kind of things you could tell quickly in battle if you wanted to live.

Taas is curious, really. With the words she was using and her looks, she had to be one of the Nightingale's.

"Alright, that sounds good." He nods towards the ring. "Blades or wood?"

Post-Battle Blues

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