open

[acreage]

WHO: Holden, you!
WHAT: A catch-all for the month(?)
WHEN: After Satinalia and onwards
WHERE: Kirkwall, Gallows
NOTES: There'll be post-murderhaus stuff in here, so there may be references to some of the horror movie occurrences!

Starters will be in the comments! I'm sorry, I'll write a real log one day.

Comments

[heorte]

It's an admirable thing to say.

Ellis' quiet in the wake of it has less to do with Holden and more to do with his own apprehension, some kindling awareness of the kind of man he is and the wide gulf separating him from Holden.

"Then I think we should start by getting you a weapon," Ellis says at last. "Or some chainmail."

The latter, maybe slightly a joke.

[acreage]

In that silence, he has time enough to think that maybe it was a stupid thing to say. But he knows that's his own self-critical mind speaking, not a judgment from Ellis. The right thing to do can be such a hard thing to find, a distant light in a clouded sky.

But the answer, when it comes, sparks a glimmer of humor.

"I have promised not to come back with any more holes in me, next time." Maybe not in quite so many words, but. It's a promise in spirit. "Any recommendations?"

It's not like he knows the first goddamn thing about medieval weaponry. And there is, clearly, going to be value in learning to defend himself, and others, here. Goodbye to the days of having a gunship for intimidation purposes.

[heorte]

A flicker of amusement passes over Ellis' face that has nothing to do with Holden's capabilities and more to do with the novelty of someone asking him sincerely, without having to be cajoled into it. (Wysteria.) He looks Holden over, assessing him in a way he hadn't done before this.

"What were you like in a fight where you came from?" Ellis asks finally.

He can make a guess: Holden's lanky, tall, would probably do best at a distance with some room to move. But it's hard to say what should be put into his hand. A sword? A dagger?

Amos had been easier to size up in a lot of ways. Like calls to like. Ellis recognizes enough of his own capabilities there to know Amos would do fine with a heavy blunt, if he cared for it. Holden's trickier to pin down.

[acreage]

"I was with the Navy for some time when I was younger."

An easily translatable place to start, he's found, with people here. Spacefaring sounds a lot like seafaring, and he doesn't need to immediately explain what a solar system is.

"I had some training in hand-to-hand, and weapons training, but I doubt much of that is applicable here." If there were guns in Thedas, he imagines he would've seen one by now. "Most of my combat experience has been from a command deck, but I can handle myself."

[heorte]

Familiarity with his fists but likely with weapons Ellis has never seen in his life, outside of the design Wysteria had unfurled across her kitchen table and Tony's brief invocations.

"We're mismatched," Ellis tells him, because it is the truth. "I don't fight the way I think would be most comfortable for you."

In which "comfortable" is a relative term. How comfortable could Holden be in a place so far from what he was used to? But before the admission can be mistaken for a denial—

"I know a little about sword. Enough that we can see if you are suited for one. And I know a man who is talented with blades, to show you what I can't."

[acreage]

He can see the truth of it. Ellis, built sturdier, wielding a mace with practiced ease. No, they wouldn't fight the same way, even setting aside different worlds of origin.

(He emphatically does not think about being five years old, waving around a fallen stick, and calling it knighthood.)

"When can we start?"

[heorte]

"When you aren't going to tear that open," accompanied by a tap at his own stomach. Ellis assumes there are stitches there, but even if not, the sentiment remains the same. They can start when Holden is fully recovered, and unlikely to bring the ire of everyone in the infirmary down upon them.

[acreage]

Technically: magical healing has taken him past needing stitches anymore.

Less technically: the possibility of Derrica and/or Sister Sara actually murdering him.

"I'll let you know when I get the go-ahead."

sticks bow on this perfect thread

[heorte]

A nod in return, plan accepted. Ellis knocks his knuckles against Holden's knee before he rises.

"Try not to stay up here all night," is the last word of caution, though he's hardly going to tell Holden to get some sleep. There's some familiarity between them, enough that Ellis knows how useless it would be to remind Holden that he needs sleep.

So he leaves him to his thoughts, hopefully to find some solace before the night is out.