We're Back! A Gallows Tale

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa and YOU!
WHAT: Oh, you know. Getting back from the jungle and getting way too into her work.
WHEN: Now, Post-Jungle
WHERE: The Gallows & Kirkwall in general
NOTES: shrug.

I. Back on her Bullshit...or...not.

Athessa is quite possibly the best rested of the whole group that returns from the jungle, having found sleeping rough a lot easier than sleeping in a bed here. Weird. But in the few days that follow, she once again gets back to her habit of not sleeping well and prowling around in a cloud of root-smoke. She also has a small dagger strapped to her hip instead of going unarmed or strapping on her dual-wield blades, and an unusually heightened work ethic during daylight hours. Minimal antics, maximum...something else. Something like responsibility? Weird.

II. Can I Raas you a Question? (Closed to Raas, if that wasn't clear)

They don't know each other. They've never even interacted, at least as far as Athessa can recall. But where else is Athessa supposed to turn, when she doesn't know anyone else who speaks qunlat and doesn't want to snoop around unnecessarily before handing over what she found to the boss?

"'Scuse me..." She isn't timid, just a little awkward. It's not typical for her to introduce herself to someone just to ask a favor. "Do you have a minute?"

III. A New Kind of Office Visit (closed to Yseult)

Athessa knocks before entering, same as usual. But this isn't one of their scheduled check-ins or typical scout work that either of them expect from one another. They're barely settled after getting back from the jungle when Athessa is reporting to Yseult with a missive in one hand, and a qunari dagger in the other. Both are set on Yseult's desk.

"I...figured I should report this to you. I dunno if it even really matters, but I found these in De--in Sten's room."

IV. Wildcard

[ you know the drill ]

Comments

[thereneverwas]

Something flashes in Barrow's eyes, and he takes a few stormy steps forward, but stops.

"If she doesn't finish you off," he calls, with far less humor, "I'll have a go."

[sulahnan]

That terrible nickname-slash-codename takes the wind out of her sails pretty quick, but not because she's embarrassed or mad about that, just because it reminds her that she was in a fighting mood and giggling about cockworms nearly ruined that.

"Alright alright alright," she announces, waving her hands at both of these big dad energies. "That's enough squawking. You ready, Big Turnip?" He said he was fresh off the turnip cart, it makes sense I swear.

[bignasty]

“Why, because I called you ‘Cockworms?’”

Now it’s Sylvester’s turn to laugh, short and harsh, teeth bared out again, incredulous to his hefty core.

“Hopefully she will, be a real shame to live all this time only to die on a training field because I hurt a man’s feelings.” And then aside to Athessa, less theatrically loud: “Yeah, whatever, get it over with.”

[sulahnan]

Athessa rolls her eyes. "What's the point if you're not even into it? Come on."

[thereneverwas]

Perhaps wisely, Barrow doesn't rise to the bait. Dumas doesn't seem the sort of person to care whether or not a thing was discussed with him in confidence; the truth is, it's out there now.

Call it a rural upbringing, but Barrow only knows one way to deal with a bully, and he intends to, whether it's now or another time. Not about to steal Athessa's thunder, he hefts his hammer off his shoulder and leans on it, settling in to watch.

[bignasty]

“Fuckin’ hell, I’m here all ready to get the bladder stones kicked out of me for your entertainment and you’re whinging because I’m not enthusiastic enough about it?”

Sylvester turns to look to the others he’d been refereeing for previously, the nearest of whom is exaggeratedly busy with the task of putting the training sword he’d thrown down back on a rack. Is this what you people have been doing with your time over here? Not one of them will make eye contact.

So abandoned, Sylvester takes one step forward, and reaches a gloved hand, one finger outstretched, with slow, clear, lunar landing intent to boop Athessa on the nose with it.

[sulahnan]

She doesn't dodge out of the way. "I'm just sayin', if I wanted to fight something that doesn't fight back I'd hit one of the training dummies."

If she had a different face, maybe her peeved look wouldn't be more endearing than intimidating.

[bignasty]

Boop.

It’s not an especially gentle boop. There’s a hint of push that follows through the wrist. Just a nudge.

“If I wanted to embarrass myself in public I’d have joined Diplomacy. Why don’t you fight this lout?” Sylvester jerks a thumb Barrow-wards as he eats that step forward with one taken back. Ready to retrieve his dummy sword to get back to it. “Easier to get under his skin.”

[sulahnan]

She leans back, but only from the shoulders up so it's really more of a chin-tuck than a lean.

Alright. Fine. He wants to play it that way? Athessa shakes her head. "Less satisfying."

She grabs his arm not to try and move him, but to give herself a boost to jump up high enough to reach out and flick him right between the eyes with her finger.

[bignasty]

Thwap!

She gets in there alright, sweat aerosolized into a mist on impact, his flinch as inevitable as it is irritable. Right between the eyes.

His reflex is strange in the sense that he doesn’t try to block, or swing, or sidestep to give himself distance. He lunges both hands out at arm’s length to snatch at her like he would if he was trying to grab an ostrich up round the neck, or a large eel, or an inflatable tube person. Just trying to secure a grip.

Hard to say to what end, but his hands are like iron vices, and the blue of his eyes has flashed a little hot against the red of his face.

[sulahnan]

For a second it looks like he's got her, but she doesn't stop mid-air, held up like some kind of river-sodden kitten. She kind of expected to, really. But he ends up with a double fistful of shirt instead and in a quick scramble, she loops the sleeves around his wrists.

[bignasty]

"Fucking hell -- "

Sylvester’s grip on her turns into a grip on her shirt, and then the shirt is gripping him, and this is all going about as well as old King Kong vs a single fighter jet could be expected to go. He swings his bounds wrists up over his head with a mind to send her on a journey, preferably in an away type direction, and opens himself wide up from the elbows down in the process.

[sulahnan]

Attacking the newly exposed weak points would be a smart move, but Athessa has already taken the flashy route. Instead of attacking, she uses Sylvester like a springboard, stepping from thigh to gut to chest and then kicking off from there to add more momentum to the oaf's backward swing.

She arcs over his head, letting go of his trapped hands and her shirt just as her weight starts to pull him back and down.

[bignasty]

The bigger they are, etc.

With his hands bound, Dumas has no hope of trying to catch himself. Probably for the best -- good way to break an arm.

Athessa sails over his head, and the vertical axis of his world slams over into horizontal; he staggers back a step or two before he falls and lands flat on his back, with a tipped- dumpster-like clap of metal on metal on garbage. A bounce of his skull to the ground in the process seals the deal on a daze, and he lies there a moment, huffing and puffing while he puts all his energy into stopping the clouds overhead from spinning.

[sulahnan]

Athessa lands in a crouch, watches Sylvester topple, and winces apologetically. Not that he can see that, but she's endured enough head trauma to be instantly empathetic to him getting his bell rung.

"You good?" She asks as she gets up and moved to stand over him. Her shadow casts over his face and she peers down at him, holding up two fingers, then four, then three. "Not seeing double, are ya?"

[bignasty]

A hard blink brings Athessa into rough focus against the sky, and he funnels all of his reproach outward and upward at her through the grit of his jaw and the furrow of his brow.

“Get out’v my light.”

His hands are still bound, thumbs flexed and wrists twisted thoughtlessly away from each other in time with a grumbling groan. Stitches pop like zippers in time with the torsion, and he thinks better of it -- just enough to hesitate before he sets to extricating himself more carefully. Hopefully this is not a shirt with sentimental value.

“I don’t want to fucking look at you.”

[thereneverwas]

"No one likes a sore loser."

Still perched with his arm on the handle of his hammer, Barrow shoots a nearly imperceptible wink Athessa's way. His mood, at least, has improved significantly.

[sulahnan]

Well, the big guy seems fine, but no more in the mood to fight. And it was over far too quickly for her to be satisfied. Reaching down, she gives the shirt around Sylvester's hands one good yank and it comes away. Yeah, it tears down the middle, but that was always going to happen one way or another.

"Barrow!" She calls suddenly, turning to look back at him over her shoulder. "You wanna fight me?"

[thereneverwas]

"Me?" He starts.
"Maker, no. I'm not an idiot."

[sulahnan]

"UuuUUUUUGH! Come on!" Her head falls back with the drama of her frustration, and she gestures animatedly as she complains. "First none of these chicken-shits wanna fight--which really, reflects bad on them because it means none of them have been taking their training seriously since the last time I kicked their asses--then Big Turnip isn't into it...why is it so hard to get someone to fucking break a sweat around here?!"

[bignasty]

Sylvester -- who is positively slick with sweat, thank you -- picks himself up like a bull elephant hauling itself out of a dust bath, skims of dirt and bits of gravel petering through rough-hammered plate. It’s a process, heavy and laborious.

“We’re drilling!” he grouses down at her, DEFENSIVELY, a little shrill, for his size, with one hand pressed to the back of his head. He glances to it to check for blood, and finds none, hair scruffed every which way.

“Why don’t you give the Blooming Rose a try and leave us out of it?”

[thereneverwas]

Still smiling amusedly, Barrow is about to answer Athessa, but Sylvester's remark gets in the way and wipes the smile right off.

"Oi," he snaps at him, suddenly all business, and shakes his head meaningfully. None of that.

https://bit.ly/3gzo2xw

[sulahnan]

Speaking of shrill, Athessa's scoff is a bit too high-pitched to not hint at a struck nerve, and she clearly has to recover from the verbal slap in the face before spitting out a retort that she regrets instantly:

"If I wanted to hang out at a brothel I would've stayed at the one I was dumped at!"

Yep. Instant regret. Her face and ears feel suddenly very warm with the unfamiliar sense of deep and utter embarrassment, but she sets her jaw, clenches her fists, and pivots on her heel. Time to stomp her tiny self out of here right now.

[bignasty]

“Struck a nerve, have I? Stirring shit’s all well and good until your goat’s been gotten, is it?” Dumas raises his voice to follow her, utterly unashamed on his own behalf.

Haggard from the sheer effort of it all, and maybe something like 15% bewildered by the drama, he bellows SWORD to one of the trainees gawking nearby, and is rewarded by them startling off to retrieve said weapon.

“Don’t ‘oi’ at me mate, sounds like you lot have been letting her take her anger out on you willy nilly without recourse.” He sweeps his hands down his arms, tearing another sheet of dust loose as if for emphasis. “Maker.”

[thereneverwas]

"You telling me you've never sparred before?" Barrow snorts, "it's a bit the point of all this, isn't it?" He gestures to the pitch around them.

Then he's watching Athessa go with his brow furrowed-- that's a mess that'll have to be cleaned up by someone, if any of them are to get any actual training done.

"Got a real charming turn of phrase," he mutters, and hefts his hammer up over his shoulder again, beginning to saunter back toward his own trainees.