[closed]

[heirring]

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.]

Comments

[heirring]

Excellent. Of course, cart or no cart, we'll need to book passage to Ferelden as well. I have no intention of traveling the whole length around it, as I would very much like to see Orzammar before I am one hundred years old and I have heard [she shoots him a sidelong glance in preparation of telling an extremely clever joke] that Orlais is currently occupied besides. So I will discuss the matter of dipping into project funds with Mr. Stark and see to arranging places on a packet ship which will take us, and our cart, and whatever animals which might be necessary to pull it with to Ferelden.

[Through all of this chattering, she has successfully nocked her new arrow, fussed with its placement along the string and how parallel the shaft is or isn't to the prospective line of her arm, and she is finally ready to attempt another shot. But first:]

Is that how you first came north, Mr. Ellis? Across the Waking Sea?

[heorte]

[ The prospect of traveling anywhere in Ferelden beyond directly to Orzammar and back makes it hard to draw breath. Or is it the consideration of travel coupled with the question? All in all, the combined effect of those two things means Wysteria doesn't get the obligatory chuckle for her joke.

Regardless, Ellis shakes the tremor out of his fingers, draws a breath as he takes a considerate step back and to Wysteria's right. A vote of confidence in her stance, perhaps. ]

Aye, I did.

[ Nailed it. ]

It was a long time ago.

[heirring]

How lovely.

[She is perfectly happy to allow him to not laugh at her jokes; let us be frank - she is quite used to not being humored for her unarguably fantastic wit. Besides, the point of her arrow has slid away from the length of the bow as she's righted it and she is now engaged with the task of tipping it back into place.]

It must be very exciting - this Warden business. When you aren't being engaged by a Blight, of course, which I have read all about and seems dreadful. But to think that you have been traveling for so long, and are even passing familiar with places as interesting as Orzammar. In a way, it seems such a romantic thing indeed.

[There. With a soft clack of wood on wood, everything is as it should be. She draws the bowstring and the arrow with it back to her cheek - reminds herself a the last minute consider where she is aiming instead of simply firing at random - and then looses it. The arrow sails high, high, gloriously high. It does not find its target.]

[heorte]

[ His hands open and close. As she fires, Ellis turns to watch the trajectory of the arrow, note where it splinters on the stone.

It gives him a moment, but it doesn't inspire him to any particular answer. The entire spill of thought is a minefield, one Ellis wants to navigate carefully so the tremor in his hands doesn't become something else. ]

There are times when it'll be wise to aim high like that. If you're aiming for something at a distance, for instance.

[ And then, more seriously— ]

It is not so romantic as you think. But it's necessary work. [ A little wry over that last sentence. ] Though I think you've done a fair amount of traveling yourself.

[heirring]

[She makes a low tsking noise - for the flight of the arrow, and not for his instruction - and draws another arrow from the stand so she might try once more.]

I suppose. But it really only since arriving in Thedas and so it is a very short period by comparison. At home, I had never so much as left the country, which is desperately tragic as I have heard such good things about— well, it hardly matters. Did you know, [she says, nocking the next arrow. It is always such a laborious process, isn't it?] that prior to my arriving here, I was finally just about to go traveling abroad? I was not packed for quite so distant or extended a trip, I must say.

[Well done, Ellis. You've successfully distracted her.]

[heorte]

[ Phew. ]

Have you thought about what you'll pack for the journey to Orzammar?

[ A dangerous question, considering the transportation they have available. But Ellis has seized upon a way to steering the question away from Wardens and he isn't looking back now. ]

Take a breath and hold it as you aim. It'll help keep you steady.

[ As he says this, he considers they are approaching the limits of his expertise. Is there someone adept at the use of a bow and arrow here? Can they be persuaded to assist Wysteria? All important questions. ]

[heirring]

[She has not, in fact, given it any thought whatsoever. But from the intake of breath, she is willing to discuss it at length regardless.]

Oh, I expect to very travel light. I cannot imagine I will require more than a half dozen dresses, and will make due with a single hat given that much of the trip will of course be underground. And there will be some tools from the workshop which will need to come along, but I fully expect—

[She chatters on without hesitation, and only stops her recitation for the sake of leveling and drawing back the bow. Does she follow instruction to hold that breath, or is she simply out of it? Who can say definitely. Either way, this time when the arrow is loosed it sails down the lane and strikes the target. It is not a good shot by any means, but it is a hit. And that must count for something.]

[heorte]

[ It counts for something, Ellis has decided. Maybe because he's decided to count any positive steps. He points at her, frown lifting from his face as quiet satisfaction settles in. ]

Now that was much better.

[ Should he or should he not comment on her hat choices?

No. ]

You'll bring the shield I got you?

[ Just add to the luggage, don't subtract. ]

[heirring]

[Pleased - either with the chance improvement of her aim or with the praise, no one shall ever know which -, she begins the gruelling process of nocking another arrow.]

Well yes of course. I usually do, do I not?

[It makes a most excellent field desk.]

[heorte]

[ The fact that she's only had to use it as a field desk is extremely comforting. ]

Aye, but I like to be sure.

[ As he steps forward to try and correct the position of her hands himself, gently adjusting the grip of her fingers on the bow. ]

Though we could always get you another while we're there. Or perhaps a set of knives.

[ Keep dreaming, Ellis. ]

[heirring]

[She tolerates the intervention; what does she know about archery? It cannot hurt to be corrected on a thing she has so little opinion on. She has more than enough thoughts on the latter subject to carry her through.]

Really, Mr. Ellis. Two shields, a bow and arrows, and now knives. As you seem to wish to transform me to into a walking armory, will you next suggest I don a spare set of plate armor?

[You fussy mother hen.]

[heorte]

Everyone should have a knife in their boot, just in case.

[ Guess what you're getting for Satinalia, Tony? ]

But no, I don't think plate armor would suit you, [ Sincere, even though Wysteria is likely not serious. ] You'd need something lighter.

[ Yes, he's thought about this. ]

[heirring]

Lighter! [she scoffs, loud enough that it carries in the yard. Is that different from her usual volume? Perhaps only in questions of intensity. And also because she is definitely making fun of him.] Chain? Leather? --Is this what you think about while we all traipse around in the countryside all day? How under dressed we are?

And I have a knife, thank you very much. It is on my work table.

[heorte]

It should be in your boot.

[ This is a losing battle. Ellis knows, and yet. ]

And I think of other things, but mostly about making sure all of you make it back in one piece.

[ He steps back and gestures towards the target. Let's see it, Wysteria. ]

[heirring]

[Wysteria's eyeroll is, in a word, fantastic as she swings the pendulum of her attention back down the firing lane. With a grand sigh, she draws and fires; the arrow whizzes cheerfully low, strikes the paving stone of the training yard before the target and bounces end over head then slides out of sight behind the target.]

Could the knife not be in the belt? Must it be in the boot? There is very little room between my ankle and shoe even in my field boots, Mr. Ellis. --Have you told Misters Stark and Fitz all about what they should be wearing? [Actually, in that vein:] Why is Mr. Fitz not being made to learn archery? Surely he is no more adept at preserving himself than I am.

[heorte]

Tony has some experience.

[ Did Wysteria already know this? The thought only occurs to Ellis after he's said it, and by then it's too late to take any of it back. But surely she has some idea that Tony is capable in combat. He's helped Ellis beat back demons on more than one occasion. ]

But you're right about Fitz. [ Actually... ] I just haven't had a moment to bring it up to him. He's been so busy trying to put the library together.

[ Soon: browbeating Fitz into carrying a sword. ]

[heirring]

The library, [she scoffs, as if he had said something akin to 'Mr. Fitz has been busy washing his hair'.] As if the rest of us haven't things we could be doing right now.

[Her labored sidelong look presumably takes the place of any inquiries as to Mr. Stark's skill in— just kidding, you thought.]

As for Mr. Stark, I will give you that he puts his anchor to good use. But what if his hand is somehow lopped off?

[heorte]

Then I think he would have a larger set of problems.

[ Taking the joke Too Seriously. ]

[heirring]

[Which she will happily lean right into as she goes about the business of setting another arrow.]

Problems which, if we are to assume what I am presently doing has any bearing on our longevity, might be helped if he knew how to use a sword or whatever you like with the other hand.

[heorte]

It's a hard task to learn proper form with your off hand.

[ Source: Ellis, laboring on learning a whole new skillset dependent on his offhand. But to her point— ]

Would it reassure you if I were to enlist him in learning how to use his off hand to swing a sword?

[heirring]

It makes no difference to me one way or another, Mr. Ellis. I mention it only to illustrate a certain lack of equality in the application of the subject of teaching.

[She half draws, then changes her mind - letting the string back out and half lowering bow and arrow both so she might address him further directly.]

Not that I don't appreciate the exercise, of course. Or the sentiment.

[heorte]

[ She has a point. Whatever his estimations of Tony's ability, whatever delay in direction his attention to Fitz— ]

You're right. I'll split my time more evenly between the three of you.

[ Fitz and Tony, get ready to be dragged to the training yard. ]

Though I don't think I'll be suggesting either of them take up archery.

[heirring]

As I am so naturally talented in the subject that it would depress their enthusiasm entirely, I assume.

[Is clearly expressed in good humor, all the sentiment of grinning and eye rolling without any of the actual deeds. What a satisfying turn of events. Is there anything better in the whole world than those two words?

'You're right.'

With a smug tilt in the line of her mouth, Wysteria cheerfully draws the bow once more. Aim, breathe, something about the breeze drifting through the training yard and the positioning of her fingers about the arrow where it is nocked on the bowstring, so on and so forth. The flight of the arrow when she release it is arcing, slightly haphazard - a product of the bowstring not being drawn far enough back to power it properly, perhaps. Despite this, by chance, it finds the bullseye marked on the training target's center. The plunk of it striking the post behind the dummy is unremarkable, yet it strips the puffed up quality of her smirking from her and replaces it with a brightening flash of delight.]

[heorte]

Natural talent, [ Ellis repeats, expression fond. It's a more measured reaction, but the pleasure is here.

It's a good start overall. But she still needs to keep a knife in her boot. ]

That's what, two bullseyes? What if we make a bargain?

[heirring]

Two bargains in one day, Mr. Ellis. Will you be moving to Diplomacy after this?

[But go on, says the accommodating gesture of her hand. Further, she makes no move to fetch and nock another arrow; her shoulder is beginning to tire.]