faderift | { CLOSED } An Unexpected Engagement

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{ CLOSED } An Unexpected Engagement

WHO: Christine, Church, a rival suitor, Korrin, Araceli, Sam, and Jim
WHAT: Christine's mother plays matchmaker and the groom has come to collect his bride-to-be. And to rid her of her current beau.
WHEN: mid-Justinian
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: No tag order. Just throw yourselves in as often as you want!

It's an hour before supper when an impeccably dressed man enters the Inquisition's holdings along the docks. Guillaume Thiebaut walks stiffly but with purpose, carrying a long, thin briefcase with him like a man on a mission. He stops the first person he sees to ask where one might find the man called Leonard Church. This random person doesn't know, and points the visitor along to someone else. Eventually someone has actually heard of Church, and directs Guillaume towards the Gallows. The man pales, adjusts his tasteful coral colored jacket, and offers to pay for someone to fetch the man from the island. He sets his briefcase down at his feet and waits, staring out towards the imposing group of towers, and sets his hands on his hips, turning out his foot like a true Orlesian gentleman.

But waiting is boring and his foot taps impatiently. His gaze turns shrewd as he looks about him at the members of the Inquisition. Perhaps a little more information on this man he's about to face is needed.

"I do beg your pardon. Would you happen to know a man named Leonard Church?" The first rule of battle? Know thy enemy.

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"Sure. A glove. I mean, look, I could just go back into the settlement. And ignore him. Because, what is he going to do, march on in? I could probably have him barred from even looking this direction."

But Araceli lives for duels. And she's apparently going to see this through.

And then she fetches a gauntlet. "...I really get to smack him right back with a glove, right?" He says with a shake of the gauntlet and a spreading look of chaotic glee on his face. "As per the dueling rules and all."

Guillaumo del Fucko might want to duck, or he can face being smacked across the face, with none too little force, with a gauntlet. His choice, cuz Church is going to swing.

By the time Guillaume has settled his jacket down, smoothed down his shirt, and adjusted his frilly cuffs, he turns to see Church holding a gauntlet of all things. Brow furrowing, he begins to say, "Surely you can't be--" when Church swings it at him and he shrieks, arms raising in fright. This doesn't, unfortunately, shield him from the hit, which lands square across the jaw where Church struck him earlier. This time he does lose his balance, collapsing to the dirty ground and whimpering brokenly, before he turns and looks back up at Church. At this rate, he'll be dribbling soup into his mouth off a spoon because his jaw will be broken.

But you know what? This Orlesian pretty boy is in pain, dirty, and steaming mad. For the moment, all decorum is thrown out the window as he lets out a guttural cry (that really hurts his jaw) and leaps forward to grab Church around the knees, hoping to pull him down to the ground.

It's a lobstered gauntlet. Very fine. Not the heaviest but not the sort of thing a man is going to want to be smacked in the face with.

"It was this, an alchemist's gloves - I don't think I would want any of us to touch the outside of those, I don't know what they've been fiddling with - or a blacksmith's glove. I did not think the polite gentleman would wish to be struck with something unclean." Araceli smiles as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, that very same smile reflected half a hundred ways in the gauntlet, all polished and glittering

Because Guillaume deserves to know what he's been smacked with after all. Actually-- "I'll need that back," she steps out of the way when he lunges, "it belongs to a very obliging guard, she could break you both."

"Yeah yeah, it's all about being nice to the--hey!"

Church, naturally, flails his arms wildly when he's grabbed, tries to kick out, flails more, until finally falling with an oomph right on his ass. "Foul! Foul, I call foul, this doesn't seem like it's in the chivalrous spirit of duels!"

"You started it!" Guillaume yells like a petulant child. He searches for something to throw at Church, but nothing is near enough at hand, so he ends up just shoving him away and trying to stand back up. Already, his face is starting to swell, the skin red and irritated from the blow.

"But I am still willing to fight you the proper way, should you actually follow the rules!" He eyes Araceli suspiciously before adding, "You can use her rapier, but I will use my own." Sorry, but he's not trusting you as far as he can throw you anymore, Araceli. That was rude.

"You were the one to come all this way with a challenge, if there is one to go laying blame at the feet of another, it is the man who comes all the way from Orlais looking for Church in the first place."

Did you want the commentary track guys? You're getting it. She's also assessing if she might just casually step on your balls Guillaume if she happens to need to get out of the way because look at you. Also you were rude, you insulted her friend like that when you looked at her that way because she comes from through a rift same as him? What did you think was going to happen you idiot swordtail?

"These rapiers were passed to me from my duelling master Marjani, a respected and feared woman. The Felicisima Armada? Where I am from, she was something like that in her younger years." Araceli's smile is not friendly as she moves closer to Church, her hands on said rapiers, confident and far too calm for all of this. Sharks smell blood in the water from a long way off and the duel already has her blood up. "These blades tasted blood at her hands and mine, I would be honoured to see them used by my dear friend against a swordtail like you."

(No one knows what that means but from her tone, from her curled lip? Yeah that definitely means the worst sort of thing.)

"...What she said," Church adds, lamely, with a sneer, dusting himself off and getting back to his feet.

"I might not know all the ins and outs of fancy-prance duels here," no offense, Araceli, that's why he said here as opposed to...anywhere else more civilized, "but I assume we gotta pick a time and place for me to kick your ass?" He spreads his arms. "You're the guest here; I would be a rude motherfucker to assume you didn't already have something in mind."

Yeah, sorry, Church. Araceli is great at the speeches. And Guillaume is just a puffed up swordtail who hasn't really come up against people before who won't just give him what he wants, so if he wasn't already in a foul mood from the injuries he's taken, he would still be Little Lord Pissypants.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Guillaume brushes a curl of sweaty hair back off his forehead and moves to retrieve the little briefcase he set aside earlier, opening it to retrieve his dueling sword. It's a fine weapon, and though it's a similar size and shape to Araceli's, his has a cup hilt displaying a figure of Andraste with the Maker's light as a sun's rays behind her.

"Let's get this over with. Right here; right now." Guillame really wants to stab Church. Like, a lot.

"Have the terms been agreed to?" Araceli raises her voice just enough that it might get through to them because this is the important part. "First blood? To the death?"

Hopefully not the latter as she gives Church the pick of her two rapiers before she actually looks, really looks at Guillaume's, biting down so hard on the inside of her cheek she tastes blood. "Señor, you are certain about which blade you will be duelling with, sí?"

Anyway, that should buy her some coaching time with Church, up on her toes to better look him in the eye so she might impress on him the seriousness of this, to attempt to distill so many years handling her weapons in a few moments. "Rapiers are blades for thrusting, not hacking and slashing the way the big clumsy swords of Templars and warriors here are. Your blades might meet but you look for the advantage, the opportunity to strike. Quick and nimble, that's the key." Church. Listen to her. Look at her face right now and the fact that she's not laughing, she's not smiling, she really means everything she's saying because this actually matters and she doesn't want you getting hurt even if it might only be a cut and your pride.

"First blood," suggests Church, because he really doesn't want to die because Christine's mom can't face reality. "Because I want him to be able to go back and explain to Lady Delacroix exactly what happened here." Sure, also that, that's the not coward answer.

Doesn't mean someone might not accidentally die. And...Araceli is deadly serious. The unfortunate thing for her is that Church does not have a big sense of honor. If he does lose, which he's thinking, yeah, he probably will, then he by no means is willing to just let Lord Fuckboy run off with his girlfriend. Nope. Not gonna happen.

He takes the latter rapier, sliding his hand around the grip. Quick and nimble. Thrusting. "That's what she said," he mumbles. "You know this isn't gonna go well, right? I hack and slash." He lifts the blade, points straight up between them both. "What are the chances he's poisoned his blade, just, y'know, on the offchance?"

Listen, you never know.

"First blood," Guillaume agrees, though his expression is quick to turn into a sneer. "And we will call the duel finished then and there. No extra stabs, you cheat." Because he fully believes Church would try. Not that the bastard is going to win anyway. Guillaume has had fencing lessons! He will win this. And then Christine will see what a sorry excuse for a partner Church is. Possible demon, loudmouth ruffian, can't even fight properly to save his claim on Christine. Pathetic.

As Araceli and Church talk in low voices, Guillaume warms up his arm, thrusting off to the side with sharp accuracy. He pauses, running his thumb over the figure of Andraste. She will be guiding his arm today. The fact that the little metal figure has an ample bosom is just a bonus.

Christine's mother is going to face reality when Araceli Bonaventura y Castell, queensguard to her Grace Above the Waves in Castileos, head of the Naval Presence project of the Inquisition and member of their diplomacy team arrives at her door with a challenge but that day will come.

"I think he's a man of his word," she says at last after another glance over to consider it all, the walk with him paying off at last. Or maybe Araceli just wants to convince herself and Church both when this could go wrong, she's not an expert on poisons but Leliana bid her learn of them in her first training mission. "A man who would cheat and lie leaves an impression and he wouldn't carry himself the way that he has or be causing such a great fuss if he'd poisoned his blades."

Araceli draws her own as Guillaume ponces about (well, now she knows where the dog probably got the name) to do a little demonstration work herself with her other rapier.

"You don't have any real height advantage on him but he can't use being smaller against you either, that's what I do." So. Good luck and all that shit.

"I've seen you handle your blades a couple times. I think I get the picture." All of the help is welcome, but none of it is going to take the place of actual practice and learning. Church mimics a few moves, both from Araceli, and also Guillaume when he sees them out of the corner of his eye.

This is gonna go like shit. But even if (when) he loses, he's not giving up Christine. What doesn't kill him makes him stronger and all that.

"All right." He whips around and points the blade in what he hopes is a confident and dramatic fashion. He'll try not to fuck up your beloved jabber, Celi. "Let's get this show on the road; I've got actual important shit to do today than dick around with a wannabe like you."

Every moment spent in Church's company is agony for Guillaume -- literally. He's been hit twice, heard his future mother-in-law called a bitch, been insulted in numerous ways... Well! Enough is enough. This ends now. Flicking his wrist, Guillaume gets into the starting position, knees bent and his free arm lifted up dramatically in the air.

"En garde!" he cries, before lunging forward, hoping to strike Church in the shoulder. Of course, he's practically shaking with excitement and his aim might not be perfect. But that hardly matters. Like Church actually knows how to flail around with a rapier.

If only he realized that at this moment, Christine is sitting in a boat crossing the water from the Gallows.

All of this is out of her hands now, time for Araceli to step back and aside but she goes up on her tiptoes with her biggest smile because sometimes you can pass on bravado. A kiss to the cheek before the fray begins.

"You shame your teacher with that stance." A parting shot and fuck you before Christine kills all three of them.

Church has hardly ever touched a rapier, but he knows how to dodge swords. Usually they come swinging at him rather than jabbed at him. Would it be cheating to use his rift-given shield? Probably, but he's considering it.

Guillaume's overexcitement lets Church dodge the blow, knocking the offending blade aside with his own and taking up a much less dramatic, much more pragmatic stance. Waiting for the next blow, get his balance and footing better, understand the game a little better before he decides he actually knows what he's doing. Play the defensive. Maybe the asshole will tire out and leave an opening.

And no. Neither one of them knows what's coming. For the best, really.

All right, so... Church isn't a complete buffoon. Good to know. Guillaume steps back to regroup, taking note of how his opponent is watching him: readying himself. Maybe he can get Church to make a mistake. The man seems to have a fiery temper, so if Guillaume ignites it, he may mess up and lunge forward in a predictable way.

"Once Christine is my wife, she won't even remember your name. One night with me and she'll forget about you completely." You know, because of all the amazing sex he's going to have with her.

"Please, your wife? Who the hell would even marry a guy who can't even dress himself?" Church isn't used to this sort of dance, a pacing, waiting, waiting. He adjusts his grip, trying not to get baited. Guillaume seems like he's got the quicker temper, miraculously.

"With what, anyway? Whatever dinky peashooter you're packing? More like she'll forget anything's down there."

Oh, it is on. You can insult Guillaume in many ways, but to insult his clothes? How very dare you?! And then Church insults his dick. That's pretty bad too. The anger boils inside him as he shifts around, looking for an opening. He resembles a tea kettle that's about to start whistling because the water is boiling hot. No one should be surprised if steam shoots out his ears next. For a good twenty seconds, he paces back and forth like a caged animal, just out of reach of Church's rapier as his anger grows and he looks for the one misstep, that one fraction of an inch of Church that's unprotected and where he can jab in before the man can react. And finally, all at once, the floodgates collapse.

"You cretin!" he yells, lashing out at him until a voice pierces the air and startles him.

"CHURCH! What are you doing?"

Guillaume jumps at the shout and turns, seeing the horrified face of the woman who can only be Christine Delacroix because she resembles her mother that much. Fumbling for a second, Guillaume clears his throat and lowers his sword arm, not realizing he's leaving himself completely vulnerable. But this is the first time he's set eyes on Christine, and the first time she's seeing him, so he wants to make a good first impression. Maker, is he sweating? He doesn't want her to see him perspire. And what about his bruised jaw? Is it swelling badly? Will she notice?

"Ah, Mademoiselle Delacroix! I did not expect--" But his voice dies away as she turns her eyes from Church to him and her expression of worry is replaced with one of furious anger.

Uh oh.

Not terribly unlike a dog that's been caught doing something it knows it shouldn't be doing, Church reacts to Christine's bellow with a wince, shoulders hunching up and looking terribly guilty at the unexpected arrival. Guillaume is, however, distracted and making a total fucking ass of himself. There are a few moments where both men are clearly waiting for the fury and might of ten thousand suns to roast them alive.

...But Church takes the opportunity presented to him and moves in, sticking the point of the rapier into Guillaume's shoulder. Triumph!

"I'm winning a duel, apparently!"

"AHH! Merde!" Guillaume yells out, dropping his rapier and clasping the wound with his other hand. It's not a life-threatening stab wound by any stretch of the imagination, but you can bet he's going to milk it for all it's worth. "Cheater! I was distracted." There's a pause as he tries to spin this into a positive thing by looking at Christine with an amazed expression. "By your beauty, of course."

The result is not what he'd call favorable, as she gives him an icy glare and growls out, "Move," before advancing on him. He yelps, skitters back, and then quickly retrieves his rapier before she has a chance to kick it away. Breezing past him, she moves in front of Church, expression less hostile, but still far from pleased.

"You were dueling? You could have been killed! Are you hurt?" Her hands reach out, brushing over his chest, looking for any spot of blood. Then she cups his cheeks, unsure if she wants to be furious or relieved.

"What would possess you to get into a duel?" Of course, as soon as she says it, she notices Araceli there and her eyes narrow. "Did she put you up to this?" There is little Araceli could do to cause Christine to get really angry with her, but putting Church's life on the line would be one of them. She doesn't yet know that the duel was to first blood only, since she's more concerned over her partner not being killed than registering that Church said he won.

Edited 2017-07-21 20:23 (UTC)

"I'm fi--Chris, I'm fine, I swear, I promise." Araceli, please, please take your blade away because now he doesn't know what to do with it but hold it out of the way. "It was this chucklefuck. Your mom sent him. So I beat him up and stabbed him so he'll go the fuck away."

That's...not necessarily wrong...

Unfortunately, hearing he's fine and believing he's fine are two separate things in Christine's mind, so she continues to fuss for a moment more before things are explained and she turns back to look at this "chucklefuck." He's sulking not far away, rapier dropped back into its case. Andraste's ample bosom failed him today. However, he takes note that Church is calling him names again, and he rushes to pull a letter from his jacket pocket, still draped across the barrel top.

"Please, if you would," he begins, wincing as he holds out his arm to her. (Maker's breath, she's a healer. Isn't she going to heal him already?) "This letter from your mother will explain my purpose in coming here."

Looking skeptical, Christine takes the letter, because she is curious what her mother has to say. Almost immediately, her eyebrows shoot up and she lets out a scoffing sound, but the further on she reads, the more her expression shifts until she looks up at Guillaume with a surprised look. "Is this true? You would let my mother live with us?" Not that she's considering it! It's just... very nice, is all. She can't visit her mother right now, and can't set her on the long journey to Kirkwall to live with her daughter here either. It's a neat little solution.

Guillaume perks up. After all, even though he lost the duel, the final decision lies with Christine, right? "But of course! I would be honored to have her."

For a moment, Christine might look like she's actually considering her mother's plan, as there's something calculating in her gaze. But when she speaks, it's far from a Yes, I'll marry you.

"Were you dueling for my hand in marriage? As if I was an object?"

A droplet of sweat runs down Guillaume's forehead. Busted.

Now she turns back to Church. "You were not doing that, were you?" She doesn't want to believe he'd think of her as his property. But then why did he agree?

"Listen, hey, I was just going to ignore him, but then he slapped me with a glove. ...And, okay, yes, then the rest from there was egged on by Araceli." Sorry, bro, but it's the truth. "Besides, then he would've gloated and called it a forfeit or something. You guys have, like, rules here about dueling for honor and crap. Also, yes, he definitely was treating you like an object. And that can't stand. You're not a prize to be won."

Oh, no, Church got the official duel-starting glove slap and Christine kind of looks like she wants to slap Guillaume in retaliation for it. In response, he's squirming under her narrowed gaze, looking for an escape route. Really, isn't being punched, struck with a gauntlet, and stabbed enough by now?

"That is exactly right," she says, staring Guillaume down. "I am mine before I am ever anybody else's." Then she turns back to Church, kissing him on the lips to show this stuck up asshole that he's well and truly lost. "Thank you," she says softly on breaking the kiss. "For dueling for my honor."

There's a part of her that wants to give Araceli a talking to, in that overbearing, mothering way that Christine has, but Church defending her has her heart all a flutter and she might actually forget to confront Araceli in the wake of all this.

{ CLOSED } An Unexpected Engagement

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just skipping ahead in order because this is the perfect setup

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no one get excited, i have no cheek kiss icons

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