OPEN

[pinprick]

WHO: Nathaniel Howe and YOU
WHAT: Meandering open post
WHEN: Month of Kingsway/September
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Will edit with any warnings that come up.

I. CLOSED - Loghain

In the Gallows training yard, Nathaniel sinks another arrow deep into a target--an inevitability of a bow of its draw weight, not a result of his skill. The accuracy is good, but he would like it to be better. He can't even blame his rheumatism today--it's his pride that demands perfection.

While retrieving his arrows, he spots Loghain with his sword and shield. He considers the man for a moment. Loghain is no longer in his prime, but he could still knock over a golem if he had a good running start. Nathaniel isn't in his prime either, but he could be better, and Loghain is one of the best. If he challenges Loghain and is beaten, he could learn from one of the best. If he challenges Loghain and wins, he could have beaten one of the best. And if that person happens to have a face he wants to punch, all the better.

He chooses a sword from the rack and approaches. He practices with the sword often these days, for he can wield it on days when his rheumatism keeps him from drawing a longbow. And it was what his old master taught him. He gestures to get Loghain's attention and sinks into a fighting stance with only the sword and no shield.

"Are you fighting the air because it's easy on your joints, old man?"

II. OFFICE

Nathaniel is tired of writing letters. He's tired of sending news and tired of follow-up questions. The Hero of Ferelden has been dead for months. It shouldn't feel like he's been dying all this time. And he has a headache.

After some time, he glances surreptitiously down the hall, closes his door, sits back down, and pulls out a pair of reading spectacles to finish up this batch. They have always been a last resort, and he is out of resorts. Anyone bursting in without knocking is likely to see him with them for the first time in their lives.

III. HIGHTOWN/DOCKS/GALLOWS

The grizzled, broad-shouldered ranger emerges grimly from the new Hightown forest, scowling in a manly fashion and carrying a basket piled high with fresh fruit and wildflowers. He's heading for the docks to catch the ferry back to the Gallows.

Dare you to say anything.

IV. BETHANY

The grim warrior halts upon seeing Bethany Hawke Darton in the courtyard. He picks up one bunch of the flowers and approaches her with dark purpose. By the time he arrives in front of her, he has smiled and is holding out the flowers wordlessly.

V. PETRANA

Seeing Petra, the dark shadow and pinprick who carries the poison stops and gives her a bunch of late summer wildflowers and a beaming smile.

VI. CLOSED - Anders

By the time Anders returns from work, Nathaniel has lit the fire. He bought fresh, as in 'was swimming in the sea a few hours ago', mackerels and grilled them over the fire, toasted some day-old bread, and baked a bubbling berry pie. The last of the wildflowers are on the table when the door opens, and Nathaniel moves to collect dinner from where it has been kept warm near the fire.

"We are," he declares in a tone that will brook no argument, "eating dinner together tonight. I don't care what you have left to do, you have time to sit down and eat a meal with your husband."

Comments

[pinprick]

It has been quite some time since Nathaniel faced off against an opponent with a sword. The last time he fought at close quarters at all was...well, against a Vengeance demon who almost killed him, better not to bring that up.

But what shows as he circles Loghain is the posture, the footwork used by the chevaliers. Nathaniel does not use the shield because he has his own troubles with rheumatism, so he grips the sword with both hands. The moment he sees an opening, he goes for it, swinging toward Loghain's shins and hoping to throw off his balance. Men Loghain's age often have knee trouble, don't they? Of course it leaves Nathaniel's upper body exposed. He pivots to try to make any blow glancing at best.

[mactears]

Loghain marks the footwork easily, and feels an old distaste curl up the back of his neck, like a wolf getting its hackles up. He stifles the irrational anger; no sense in digging up that dead horse just to kick it again. He marks also how Nathaniel holds the sword with two hands rather than one; it lends more power to his downward swing as he charges forward, but makes his angle of approach obvious. Loghain parries the blow deftly, his blade deflecting Nathaniel's, then uses his own forward momentum to shove him in the direction that he pivots.

It's just enough to knock Nathaniel slightly off balance--and Loghain lunges forward at that moment to aim a stab at his left shoulder with the blunted tip of the practice sword.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel twists away barely too late. First (metaphorical) blood is drawn, though the fight not yet won, as the wound would be fairly shallow. With hands apart and no shield, Loghain's midsection is vulnerable. If Nathaniel had a bow instead of a sword, he would duck well within Loghain's reach, where a longsword is all but useless, and draw a dagger to cut his throat. But that's not this kind of fight. Ser Rodolphe always thwacked him with the sword-flat if he tried precision work or, Maker forbid, throwing, with a sword. A sword is not a dagger. Different tools, different purposes.

Instead, he aims for a stab toward Loghain's middle as he moves sharply toward the side of his opponent's empty hand.

[mactears]

It's not his footwork that continues to give him away; Loghain might disdain the Orlesian chevaliers, but he'll acknowledge that whoever instructed Nathaniel taught him well. It's the two-handed grip on the sword, which does not pair well with his stance or his other movements. To make those movements work well, he needs to heft a bigger blade, one that will naturally keep Loghain at a greater distance to avoid the force of its strike.

As it is, when Nathaniel stabs for his middle, Loghain can predict his angle of approach again. He deflects the blow and, same as before, forcefully pushes him off with the practice blade. This time, he doesn't go in for another blow.

"Can't hold it with one hand?" he asks, nodding to the sword.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel's face burns more than he would like, feeling like a squire again at age forty-one. He gives a withering glare to ensure Loghain understands this isn't a bonding session. He also switches to holding the sword with one hand, his balance shifting as he does so.

"Was giving combat advice to the enemy something you did in the war? Either war?"

[mactears]

"Was giving combat advice to the enemy something you did in the war? Either war?"

Ah. So it's going to be like that, then. Loghain's gaze grows flinty and hard. "Out of pity, occasionally."

He rolls his shoulders to loosen them up, feeling his tendons stretch and release, and gives his sword arm a shake to limber it up a bit more. He lifts his chin, then the practice blade, snapping it once against Nathaniel's--not quite hard enough to knock it from his grasp, but enough to challenge him to keep his guard up.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel looks irritated. Or, more irritated than before.

"I fought in the Grand Tourney as a squire," he says crossly. "I even placed well. I've just grown unaccustomed to blades since then."

That would sound suspiciously like pride. Nathaniel begins to circle again, but doesn't wait long to close in and take another swing, this one intending to behead. Well, technically, to stop just short of beheading. If Loghain keeps his mouth shut.

[mactears]

"We'll be sure to inform the darkspawn to bring only bows and arrows, in that case," Loghain tells him with far too much understanding to be truly genuine. There's a dark, provocative glint in his eye, and his ready stance adapts instantaneously to the change in Nathaniel's approach. Anger seems to make the younger man predictable, even in his unpredictability.

He throws up his blade to parry the blow that would, in a real battle, take his head clean from his shoulders, the force of the blow forcing him to take two or three backward steps to regain his balance. So far, he hasn't bothered to go on the offensive at all, simply waiting for Nathaniel's pride and anger to bring him in and render him vulnerable. This time, however, Loghain circles towards him, and then charges forward with a barrage of precise stabs and thrusts intended to force a retreat, not necessarily intending to land any of them.

With the last strike, he feigns a strike to Nathaniel's shoulder, and then instead strikes the flat of the plastic blade soundly across the top of his hand; the goal is to get him to drop the weapon entirely.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel knows exactly what that move is for. He remembers Ser Rodolphe doing it when he was twenty-two, although back then he used a real sword. He would drop his blade, and spend the next several days with an ugly bruise on the back of his sword hand. Ser Rodolphe wasn't afraid of putting bruises on top of bruises, doing it even though Nathaniel's hand was purple and swollen already. It didn't take long for Nathaniel to see the move coming, or keep hold of his blade anyway.

His sword clatters to the ground, and it didn't even hurt that much. He expected it to, of course. He has the memory of that pain tattooed on his knuckles. And it only makes him feel more foolish, which makes him feel angrier. He steps back, face burning, but he has surrendered.

[mactears]

A swift end to their sparring match, though Loghain hadn't anticipated it would go on for very long. Nathaniel may have fought in the Grand Tourney as a young man, but everything about his poise and body language speaks of a man who is more accustomed to the heft of a long bow.

He lowers the practice sword slowly, watching his opponent with cold eyes until he is certain that no retaliation is imminent. Then he reaches down to pick up the discarded practice sword and carries both of them back to the rack.

"Not bad," he allows; the venom from earlier is gone from his voice.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel is not accustomed to hearing praise after losing. He has to shake memories of Ser Rodolphe away and allow there to be some silence between Loghain's comment and his own reply, or he'll respond curtly.

"You can't mean that," he says. "I lost. If this were a battle, I would be dead."

[mactears]

Somewhat sourly, Loghain responds, "It would behoove you to learn when to take me at my word."

He settles the practice swords back in place, rolls his shoulders one more time, then turns to walk back towards Nathaniel. "Would you have me berate you endlessly over your mistakes? You know your own weaknesses." Most of them, at any rate. For the ones he isn't aware of, well. Loghain isn't his tutor.

[pinprick]

"It seems not." Nathaniel hesitates. He's not about to explain that the real weakness he's been dealing with is the one that makes it impossible, on some days, even to draw his bow. How it weighs on him that he might find death in melee combat without the resources to defend himself from it. A war wound that still hurts even when it doesn't hurt.

Dammit.

He gnashes his teeth briefly, before forcing it out:

"Please teach me."

[mactears]

"Please teach me."

Loghain possesses enough self-awareness not to let the surprise play visibly across his face, but he does stop himself from returning to his quarters. Instead he fixes Nathaniel with a scrutinizing look.

He doesn't say no. What he says bluntly is, "You'd be better served finding yourself a tutor you don't hate."

[pinprick]

A squint and a disbelieving chuckle. "Being hated by the pupils is part of a tutor's job description. You're the best swordsman here, and I need to learn. I'm a big boy. I can handle my own feelings, whatever they are."

[mactears]

He doesn't quite laugh, but the noise is close enough to it to convey some grim humour. "I suppose that's true, more often than not," he finds himself agreeing. He considers Nathaniel in silence for a few lingering moments, then at last gives him a nod.

"Very well," he says, then gestures to the hand that had given him trouble. "I might suggest rosemary oil for that. To ease the pain."