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WHO: Tony Stark & Wysteria Poppell & Ellis
WHAT: Shop talk and self defense.
WHEN: Justinian (Nowish Catchall so I don't flood the comms)
WHERE: On the boat back from the jungle adventure; some might call this 'the Jungle Cruise'; Kirkwall
NOTES: N/A, will add if Wysteria throws Tony overboard or stabs the wrong training dummy.

TONY SPARK.

[Ordinarily, she has very little in the way of fondness for boats. Ships? She cannot even begin to fathom where the difference lies. But after days spent stumbling through the jungle, preceded by days being treated to the poor keeping of Venatori agents, she might find some charity in her heart for transport on a sufficiently wide board so long as it meant no further walking on her own two feet. Further, when relieved of the prospect of how they are getting where they are going and in what direction, exactly, where is, one finally has time to indulge in philosophical questions such as What must need doing upon our return?, or--

Well, there are lots of questions one might ask themselves under such circumstances. But that is by far the one which she prefers.

Hence her sudden appearance at his elbow (although to say it comes as a surprise would be to discredit Wysteria's propensity for charging about).]

Now then, Mr. Stark. Where were we?

MR. ELLIS.

I see no reason why we cannot simply do this in the back garden.

[She is referring, of course, to the dreary little courtyard with its planters and cracked old paving stones over which Ellis has been laboring to make slightly less overgrown and dreadfully unkempt alongside the house in Hightown. It is where their lessons have always taken place prior to this one.

True, there really isn't much room for wielding a bow and arrow in the garden and her neighbors already resent the new occupant of the mansion terribly; and true, that those tutoring sessions with swords or little knives or whatever you like had tended to devolve into her sitting on one of the planter walls, weeding the dirt and discussing books rather than doing much with sharp objects. But really, it hardly seems necessary to go to these lengths.

Meaning the Gallows practice yards, wherein Miss Wysteria Poppell looks rather out of place in her skirts. Nevermind that they are very recently late of adventuring through jungles, and there she wore very nearly the exact equivalent of what she has on today. There is something about being fresh faced, clean and well-pressed in breezy summer cottons and little leather boots with flowers stamped at the ankles which simply lends poorly to such an environment.]

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Because I'd rather you stab a training dummy than me.

[ A more diplomatic explanation than: we're less likely to get sidetracked in the training yard.

And he means to stay focused this time. The lingering guilt over her kidnapping is a sharp reminder how necessary it is that she learn. He doesn't mean for her to be as adept as someone like Athessa or Warden von Skraedder, but just adept enough to make someone attempting to do her harm regret it. ]

And I don't want to trample the seedlings.

[ He drags the training dummy in question another few feet back with an ungainly scrape of wood on stone. Good enough. ]

Do you remember what we went over? How best to aim?

[Her wrinkled nose says, Very well, I suppose those reasons are legitimate enough to pass muster.]

I believe it has something to do with the elbow and not closing one eye.

[Stooping, she gathers the hem of her skirt and fetches it up in what is a now familiar routine of tucking them up into her broad belt from their time spent traipsing through muddy fields and overgrown jungles. The stockings are a salmon color today, for the record. No, she does not own trousers.]

[ In the same moment as Ellis says— ]

We should get you a pair of trousers to wear next time.

[ One battle at a time.

Ellis leaves the training dummy, looping around to stand beside Wysteria as she finishes the elaborate tucking process. Trousers. Definitely going to need to get her some trousers. ]

Relax your stance. Feet shoulder width apart.

[ He demonstrates, standing in front of her with an expectant expression, waiting for her to mirror his position. ]

[She is willing enough on this point at least - shaking her shoulders out and shifting her feet a little broader in imitation of him.]

I have been halfway across the entire continent in skirts and have found them perfectly suitable, Mr. Ellis. Have you ever tried them yourself?

I don't think they'd flatter me.

[ Noncommittal, as he reaches to tap her hand, nudging them upward. ]

And they seem as likely to get caught on something as they are to accentuate my ankles.

[ As he speaks, Ellis draws a mock bow, giving her another position to mimic. ]

They only require some practice, [she insists, bringing up her significantly less invisible bow. There is no arrow nocked there yet, but it would hardly make a difference; she struggles somewhat against the tension of the bowstring, managing to draw it halfway to her cheek.

There's somewhat awkward going on with her shoulder or elbow, she's certain.]

I'm certain your ankles are the very definition of loveliness, Mr. Ellis.

[ Wysteria gets a chuckle in response, extremely noncommittal. Ellis does consider whether the promise of attempting skirts would be good motivation, but the idea of making good on it gives him pause.

There is something gone wrong with her shoulder and elbow. Ellis hums, then steps around to tap her shoulder gently. ]

Deep breath. Try to relax into it. You're tensing up, and it's made you bend a bit wrong here.

[ "A bit" ]

Do you need to put something worth hitting on the practice dummy as motivation?

[A bit. She swallows down a lungful of air and thinks very hard about realigning the arrangement of her arm in accordance with that corrective tap.]

I'm certain I can picture something appropriate if you think it will do any good.

[A few more inches are wrung out of the bow's flexion, managing at last to drag it far enough back to actually be something like close to a proper draw.]

Better?

Much better. You're making a fine start.

[ It occurs to him that a bow and arrow might be better for her in other ways than he'd first thought. Rather than having to stand close to kill someone, she'll have some distance from it.

Ellis would like for her to not have to square with killing at all, but at least if she's stood far back from it she can have some plausible deniability. ]

Now try it again with an arrow out of your quiver. If you can hit that target on your first try I'll buy whatever you like from the bakery on the way back.

Now that you have recalled it to my mind—

[She eases the tension from the string and half lowers the bow, pausing to look at him. And then is not looking at him, and instead fussing over fetching an arrow and setting it the right way against the string.]

—There is something I can think of which would make for excellent motivation. In fact, it is indeed a very small favor.

A small favor.

[ Doubt. ]

Well, go on. Let's hear it.

Well.

[Ah, of course. The arrow ought to be laid in this direction so the fletching doesn't interfere with the bow. Don't mind her; she is simply making sure the arrow is aligned just so.]

Do you recall when we briefly discussed Orzammar? It was very brief. I wouldn't be surprised if it had slipped your mind entirely.

Keep a firm grip, just there, [ Ellis corrects, two fingers tapping her knuckles, before he answers. ] Aye. I remember what we discussed.

[ And he can likely guess where this is going, but he doesn't volunteer his suspicions. ]

Well.

[She corrects her grip.]

It occurred to me when we came across that old thaig in the jungle that it would be a shame if, out of all the places in Thedas, it is the one which would no doubt be of most interest both to myself personally and to our work that I never had some opportunity to see for myself. It feels as if I have been quite all over otherwise, you see. And I know that Mr. Stark would also find it compelling. And I thought to myself that perhaps, if we returned to the Gallows more or less in one piece despite everything, that I might suggest we all slip away for a little trip there since you are so well acquainted with it.

I see.

[ Ellis' gaze drops, examining her hold on the arrow. He's had time to consider this proposal, ever since the pair of them turned their gazes to him over the scattering of notes and paper airplanes on that rainy day before the chaos of the Crossroads. ]

I can't promise I'd be the best guide.

[ After all, it wasn't as if Ellis had ever taken the time to avail himself of anything the city had to offer beyond it's healers and smiths. But he senses the latter is going to be of keen interest. ]

[Her attention lifts in turn, cutting a swift look over in his direction. The line of your brow is sometimes so very serious, she does not say.]

I hardly think we require the best guide. In fact I'm certain of it, and that together we might all muddle along quite successfully. And I think it would do Mr. Fitz some good to get away. He has been rearranging the library for days now with seemingly no progress whatsoever.

[ That draws a little laugh out of him. ]

He's managed admirably, I think. But maybe you're right.

[ In spite of broken shelving, and toppling piles of books. Ellis isn't going to say the ghost is set against them, but the ghost is probably set against them. He reaches to tap her fingers again. ]

Go on, draw it back and take the shot.

[ Which isn't much of an answer.

He's thinking again of what Alistair had said, and how going to Orzammar seems to narrow his chances of avoiding certain confessions down to nothing. Ellis takes a step back, rubbing a hand along the bristle at his jawline. ]

[It is a fine answer. It means that if she misses, she can simply argue that they never officially reached an agreement and so such a trip is hardly contingent on her accuracy with some ridiculous weapon that she has virtually no need for whatsoever (it wouldn't have helped, for example, in the Crossroads with the Venatori; not even Colin had been any good there).

And so she is very blasé indeed - shrugs, brings up the bow, draws back to her cheek, lets out a breath (she remembers that much) and looses the arrow all with very little pause or to-do.

The THWACK! of it drilling into the training dummy's face must come as a shock to everyone in the entire Gallows, Wysteria most certainly included.]

Oh!

[ It might have been absolute luck, but still, it's cause for some celebration. His surprise melts into a grin, as he grasps her hand over the grip. ]

That was well done!

[ Breathlessly sincere, because what else can he be but proud of her? ]

Very, very well done. Better than I could have managed, even.

[ Which is the truth. Ellis has never concerned himself with ranged weapons beyond the basics, enough to be of use if it was all that was left to him. ]

[The sound she makes is a distinctly unladylike bark of delight - a 'Ha!' that all but shouts, I'm going to find a way to drop this interesting fact into conversation with at least ten people today.' -, as her hand wagging triumphantly upward under his, and she declares,]

That is not at all where I meant to hit!

But it'll do!

[ Where—no, no. This will stand without question. ]

There, you see, [ He points down at the poor, assailed training dummy. ] That is a sure sign of natural talent.

[ He'll sell Wysteria on wielding a bow and arrow if it's the last thing he does. ]

Natural talent my eye! It was entirely luck!

[But the protest does very little to take the shine of her self congratulatory pleasure. And--] Here, allow me to prove it to you.

[--she is quite eager to shake free of him, fetch another arrow from the collection before them, and attempt to replicate the motions again. With a snap of the bowstring, the arrow whistles through the air and sails with all due grace fantastically high over the training dummy, thumping unceremoniously into the tight packed hay stacked behind them.]

[ That has Ellis laughing, because truly, what a way to hit all the highs and lows in the span of a few minutes? ]

Your luck will return, [ he says after a moment, still transparently pleased. ] Hold your fire while I go get those two arrows.

[ As if a fresh start will reset them back to the first lucky hit. ]

You had it, [ he calls back. ] And once that becomes second nature you'll be making shots like that every time.

Second nature seems like a rather high expectation, Mr. Ellis, [she shouts after him, pausing to peel back her sleeve and examine her forearm. That second shot has snapped against the inside of it with the bowstring, leaving behind a bright red patch of skin.

No matter.]

And I am well within my rights to refuse any further improvement without some guarantees.

Such as trips to Orzammar, [ Ellis concludes, turning with the arrows in his hands. As he treks back, he shakes his head over the sight of her reddened arm. ]

That was my mistake. I'll find you an arm guard to prevent it.

[ And maybe accessories will further encourage her.

But it isn't going to distract her in the moment, so he has to consider what's going to be done. What use is it to try and stall? They aren't going to be put off, and he doesn't have any reason to do so other than his own unease at mingling two aspects of his own life that have been kept relatively separate up until now. ]

Whatever we discover there, you need to understand that lyrium is dangerous, especially if it isn't handled properly. It's not like the chemical fires.

[ A reasonable objection, right? ]

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