[closed]

[aenseidhe]

WHO: Iorveth & Kostos
WHAT: Combat training, but with booze and prying
WHEN: Somewhere in Cloudreach
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: idk booze and losers

[ "by the time you start getting into bar brawls, you're likely to already be shitfaced, but there's no guarantee the other will be."

that's iorveth's rationale for giving kostos shot after shot of hard liquor before today's training session kicks in (maybe taking just one or two himself). and it is true, the man needs to be able to fight while blitzed, as that's normally the state he's in when his fights come up, and if there were no secondary interest, he likely would have done this at some point anyway.

it just happens that it might make it slightly easier to get straight answers out of the man this way.

they're about twenty minutes in to kostos wobbling around and trying to hit targets and dodge sweep arms and legs without busting his ass or getting clocked on the side of the head, when Iorveth segues from instruction, commentary on form and the occasional piece of shit-talk, to one of those questions he'd like a clearer answer to. ]

Agathe dead and Elise as far behind as she is, we're only left with the conservatives, aren't we? [ well, and the bland one, but we all know that one's likely to be well tanked by the inquisition by now. ] That'll likely end with a return to the Circles eventually, won't it? Watch your footwork.

Comments

[exequy]

Watch your footwork, [ Kostos grumbles mutinously through his teeth—because alcohol does a bit to lower his defenses, but the personality hidden behind all of those defenses is still unruly and combative. Less dignified, though, given he's mumbling like a rebellious teenager.

He does fix his feet, though, looking down to make sure his tipsy estimation of where his feet are matches with where they appear to be, and then, so fixed, he lifts his chin to almost smile. ]

You'll look nice in robes.

[ You know. When the Circles are back. ]

[aenseidhe]

[ and then the man looks down and literally watches his feet, rather than just keep a mind to it, but okay, yes, that is what he technically instructed, so iorveth forgoes the smack at the side of his head he might've given him for allowing the opening. instead, there's a small quirk of his lips and, well, you can't see it under the headscarf, but a brow arches at the idea of him looking nice in robes. his normal get up is pretty close to one, so yeah, okay, he can see it.

problem is: ] I'll likely be dead before they get me to the stage of uniforming.

[ said with a wry smirk. he isn't under any illusion that he can fight off all of thedas and keep himself out of the circle, if they're considering having a shard to be circle material, but iorveth is iorveth. if the thought of absolute defeat actually fended him off from things, he'd never have left his ghetto.

after kostos seems to have gotten a good sense for his feet, iorveth throws out another punch aimed for his face, stepping in to follow another to his stomach and hoping he has enough of his wits about him to avoid getting hit. ]

I suppose we wouldn't be able to continue our lessons like this anyway, even if the both of us went peacefully. Will you miss your bar fights when you go?

[exequy]

[ He saves his face. His gut, not so much—but Kostos does manage to turn as the blow connects, so it’s not as bad as it might have been, and when he sucks in a breath to replace what the punch shook out of him, there’s a brief flash of a grin.

Sort of. It might be closer to bared teeth. But the thought is there, and it’s the thought that counts. He’s having fun. ]

I can fight anywhere.

[ And anyone—though the protection he had before, from having a Prince for a grandfather and a dirty-rich family who continued to give a shit, that kept him alive and in good health no matter how many noses he bloodied and broke, may not be enough anymore, if they really go through with putting mages back in the care of the same Templars who watched them burn their brothers alive.

But he’ll die in good company, if he’s going to die. He doesn’t have to know Iorveth all that well to know he’s serious. If it comes to that, it won’t come easily. ]

I want to go back, [ he says, before he aims a darting fist at Iorveth’s side and then backs out of range, careful of his feet on the way. He wants to go back—back in time, back to when it wasn’t too late—and even with his head buzzing, it’s important people know that. None of this was what he wanted. But it’s done, so, ] That doesn’t mean I’m going.

[aenseidhe]

[ Kostos' been training with Iorveth long enough now that he doesn't pull punches with him any longer, even if he's shitfaced, part because he's gained the skill that he doesn't need to be protected, and part because he gets that there's a release to have in that. kostos flashes teeth, and iorveth gives him a sharp smirk back. sometimes violence just fun.

other times it's a distraction, and often enough, pulling shit like that bites you in the ass, because the frank admission, just before a punch, puts iorveth into his head, surprised, long enough kostos' fist connect squarely into his side. iorveth lets out a hiss, retreating a step as kostos does, but a chuckle falls for him. yeah yeah, okay, that one was good. after a second, he waves a hand to motion him back in, and start up again. ]

Did you feel safe there?

[ he moves to step in, taking space from kostos and trying to see how well he can keep himself balanced and upright. now and again, as they talk, he sweeps a boot at his ankles, trying to get him caught up, or shoves a shoulder into his chest to see if he topples over. you know, drunkness and that balance thing, it's a bitch. ]

You aren't incompetent, and you aren't reckless with your power. [ not in the ways he's thinking of, at least, but then again, iorveth isn't exactly the best authority on what constitutes 'reckless'. ] Do you truly feel the world needs to be protected from you, or was the order and structure simply a comfort?