(closedish openish) keep you like an oath

[byblow]

WHO: Alistair & Others
WHAT: Some sulking, some snark.
WHEN: Third week of Haring + bonus first week of Wintermarch.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: No open starters, but if you want something PM me or hit me up on Plurk! Or drop a starter of your own on me and I'll roll with it.

Comments

I'd never want to

[byblow]

[ The outburst resonates in the very depths of Alistair frustrated, tired, tainted heart before he even locates the source. Maybe he should curse a few times and see if it helps--or maybe he should continue trying to smile and evade too much notice. That sounds good. He'd been leaning on the wall nearest the training grounds, watching soldiers spar, and is just as easy to slip away from them to stand behind the dwarf instead.]

That's not very ladylike.

[ He's known enough well-armed, foul-mouthed women that he doesn't really expect that to be a deterrent.]

[rathercommon]

[ She jumps. She squeaks. She wheels around and looks at him. Here's the difference, though, between someone like Kitty and a real warrior: she doesn't raise her weapons to prepare to defend herself. She doesn't have that killer instinct. Instead, she just gawps at him a few seconds, and then she abruptly flushes. ]

I didn't think...anyone was nearby.

[ She tucks her throwing knives into her belt and casts her eyes over at the training field - which has plenty of nearby people. ]

Sorry about that. You shouldn't have had to hear it.

[byblow]

My poor unsullied ears.

[ She's adorable; he's grinning, which isn't something he's been doing as much of lately. And now that she isn't actively wielding knives, he steps alongside her instead of behind her to survey the damage to her target. Or lack of it. ]

I don't know how to throw knives, or I'd offer you some pointers. [ A pause. ] Heh. Pointers.

[rathercommon]

[ That breaks through her frustration and her faint alarm over being caught being a semi-capable fighter. Against her will, she gives a little reluctant snort of amusement. Cute one, Alistair. Then she recovers and sighs. ]

I'm not usually this wretched. It's just going completely wrong. I don't know if it's the knives, or the altitude, or what.

[ She runs her hand through her hair. ]

Anything you do know how to do that would be suited to someone small and apparently completely incompetent?

[byblow]

That's kind of harsh. You're hitting the target. [ He points at the bale of hay, in case she missed it. ] Not with the right end, that's all. You could try something where every end is the right end. Like a rock.

[ Helping! ]

[rathercommon]

[ She gives a harumph of irritation and puts her hands on her hips and looks up at him. It's a hell of a long way to look up. ]

Or mouthy Gray Wardens. You look quite underfed. I bet I could toss you to hit that target.

[ The idea is, of course, completely preposterous. But she does look fierce! ]

[byblow]

[ So fierce. Like a kitten. How appropriate.

He spreads his arms and raises his eyebrows: go ahead. ]

[rathercommon]

[ A little smile curls her lips. And she cups her hands, like he's supposed to step into them. ]

Right, foot right here...