[open]

[katabasis]

WHO: Fitcher + Wysteria + Flint & You
WHAT: Catch-all
WHEN: Firstfall-ish
WHERE: Kirkwall and stuff.
NOTES: Will update if necessary. Feel free to grab me if you want a specific starter/wildcard me, baby.

Comments

[katabasis]

You've no cause to be overly concerned, [he says, working his shoulder and elbow for a moment before falling into place across from Byerly.] I don't much care for pork.

[It is likely the tempering effects of the whiskey, or perhaps there is simply something satisfying about the imminent pleasure of choosing not to filet Byerly when an alternative has presented itself so readily; regardless, some flicker of humor moves at the corner of Flint's mouth behind the bristle of his beard in that squaring up moment of not-quite-stillness. There is something upright to his bearing even here—

He lunges, high and direct—a good tempered opening strike more fit to some fencing school master of a mind to educate an unruly pupil than a fearsome northern seas pirate. The first crack of steel rings like a bell in the courtyard.]

[bouchonne]

[ From the very first blow, Byerly seems rather overmatched. Oh, he doesn't sell it too hard; he doesn't feign to scramble backwards, or fumble his sword, or anything of the sort. He keeps it subtle: a slight weakness in the wrist that allows Flint to push just a little further than he should, something that Flint likely won't see as much as feel.

He parries, and then delivers a riposte, blade sliding up the other man's to make a pass towards his shoulder. He's just a hair too open. It invites a strike at Byerly's left shoulder, though doing so would require Flint to lunge forward into a posture that would be hard to recover from with any speed. ]

[altusimperius]

[Having been at work and gone to find Byerly, who was unsuspiciously absent (it happens sometimes), Benedict paused in the hall to see his quarry and Flint walking the other way and making to descend while holding swords.

Afraid as he is of the latter, he felt compelled to scurry after them at a distance, and is now leaned somewhat surreptitiously against one of the courtyard's pillars to watch; he's relieved that it doesn't seem to be a real fight, and is equally intrigued by what he hadn't known about either of them previously.

It promises to be a good show, at least as long as Flint doesn't take issue with his presence.]

[katabasis]

[Flint has more pressing concerns than certain skittish and sniveling children lurking at the courtyard's fringe. Namely, the temptation of pressing into that opening left to him.

His pursuit of is feinting, trajectory dipping toward center rather than chasing after the high target of Byerly's shoulder—measured, a test of that space's authenticity, but not cautious.]

[bouchonne]

[ A little too measured to fall properly into the trap. One only gets one chance to hustle a fellow, after all, to pretend incompetence, and Byerly isn't going to waste that chance on a loss because he was too tempted by an opening. ]

Ooh.

[ It's a noise of uncertainty, like he's having to concentrate monstrously hard. He takes a step backwards, gangling elbow turned out a little too far as he parries the attack, the slight imprecisions of a mediocre swordsman. Another invitation, once again that open shoulder. ]

[cozen]

[ Mild curiosity reroutes Bastien’s aimless smoke-and-stroll toward the clang and scrape of swords. Seeing who it is elevates it to a case of severe curiosity. Not even for any personal reasons, really. Not only for personal reasons. There’s no television. And who wouldn’t want to see what their leaders are made of? And, if there’s going to be a murder, there ideally ought to be multiple witnesses.

He murmurs into his sending crystal first, before he comes closer. A succinct report on the situation to a potentially interested party or two.

Then he joins Benedict, standing next to his pillar and leaning sideways toward him to quietly ask, ] Is it business or pleasure, do you know?

[katabasis]

[As if the question is a cue, Flint drives past Byerly's clumsy parry and thrusts into that opening. This time, he is looking for that shoulder.

Under different circumstances, would he have taken that bait? Byerly can hardly be incompetent; Flint had been with him in Ghislain. But dueling is a different thing from fighting men in the dark and luck goes a long distance in the latter. Or under different circumstances, might Flint have been so committed to the power behind that lunge that it might have been trusted to beat out any would-be counter?

Irrelevant questions, all. In these, where blood isn't meant to be a question, there's little to lose on gambling. He commits himself to that space, the extension far enough to leave his offside vulnerable.]

[altusimperius]

Bit of both, maybe, [Bene murmurs to Bastien, canting his head toward the other spectator.]

I think we'd know, if they meant it.

[sulahnan]

[ Appearing beside Bastien and Bene, munching on an apple. ]

Yeah we'd find out by noticing one of them died.

[hassaran]

[ Yseult was already in the vicinity, or surely she wouldn't bother to interrupt her work day to come see what exactly is happening. She arrives at Bastien's other shoulder, casting a glance across him at Athessa and Benedict, and asking beneath her breath ] Did you alert the entire company? [ before turning to shade her eyes and get a look at Flint and Byerly just in time to catch the seeming-opening and the lunge. ]

Do you know what began it?

[bouchonne]

[ By is quick. And he's lean, so lean that when he turns sideways there's scarcely a target to hit. And so when Flint commits, he slips away, twisting like an eel, all signs of incompetence gone. He steps around and flick his light, flexible blade down to the man's upper arm, angled towards his throat.

A smile, wry. It feels almost like Flint let him have this one. By asked to be underestimated, and Flint obliged. ]

One-nothing?

[coquettish_trees]

[ Alexandrie is walking past the back stairs when the first blow rings out.

When steel hits steel for something that isn't training, there's something earnest about it, a kind of urgency, and she's watched enough duels to know the sound when she hears it. Halfway down the back stairs, her crystal chimes to tell her in Bastien's voice who is fighting, and so when she emerges into the courtyard her first two steps are the end of a rather unladylike hustle, just in time to catch Byerly's deft twist away from Flint's thrust, the exactitude of his step and the flick of his sword into position, all of which brings her to an abrupt stop in the doorway, her eyes wide with shocked delight. ]

[altusimperius]

[As the person who has perhaps been here the longest other than duelists, Bene shakes his head lightly (and with deference) to Yseult.]

They came down from the offices. ...didn't seem too angry, though.

[katabasis]

[It's a perfunctory thing from a distance. Flint commits, is caught out, and after some pause the line of his sword wavers toward the idea of resetting.

Up close: Something flexes Flint's face as it is tipped away from that clever swordpoint. It's a brief rise of the eyebrows and a quirk of the mouth that is at once surrender and 'Got you, you shit.']

One-nothing.

[Rather than step back and square off a second time straightaway, Flint instead turns out from under the sharp point and toward the waiting bottle. A splash of whiskey is poured and summarily drunk down.

Then he resets.]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly, meanwhile, takes the opportunity to turn towards the gathering crowd, lifting his blade in salute. He calls up to them - ]

Did you see that I won? What a stroke of luck.

[ Because, well, if he weren't a little tipsy, he would have also considered before they began fighting: the spot Flint picked is rather public. And he's just shown rather distressing competence to a rather large number of people. Got him, indeed. ]

[hornswoggle]

[ It's at this point John appears at the opposite side of the courtyard. There's some momentary element of confusion that gives way to amusement, partly at the fight itself and partly at the number of spectators.

The idea of passing through and into the stairwell is abandoned as he leans against the stone arch of the entryway, settling in for the show. ]

[filotimo]

[ And Madi is there, too, giving the duelists a glance before leaning to ask John: ]

Is this typical?

[cozen]

[ Bastien, in order: inclines his head at the fight while Benedict answers him, mutters I am not organizing interviews for another Ambassador in Athessa’s direction—as if that would be anywhere near his chief concern—and smiles sheepishly at Yseult’s first question before shaking his head at the second.

Then it’s over. Round one, at least, apparently. Bastien’s little smile turns wider when he sees Alexandrie wide-eyed on the stairs, and he tips his head toward her when Byerly addresses them to make sure he has a look himself. ]

Don’t try too hard. I bet against you.

[ There has been no betting. But there’s time.

In the meantime, he's holding his hand out expectantly for Athessa's apple. Share. ]

[hornswoggle]

It hasn't happened before, but it's not entirely out of the ordinary.

[ Same shit as always, Riftwatch. ]

[sulahnan]

[ Athessa relinquishes the apple to Bastien and, once she's done chewing, cups a hand around her mouth to call down to Byerly: ]

Does the Lord Ambassador have an appointed Second?

[bouchonne]

[ He calls back - ]

Are you volunteering?

[filotimo]

[sulahnan]

Sure am!

[staysail]

[Appearing (of course) behind Yseult, Darras reaches over her and holds out his hand for the apple, since Athessa won't be using it anymore. Dibs next from Bastien.]

I'll take your bet. I'm for the ambassador and his second.

[bouchonne]

[ By whistles and jerks his head, an invitation to Athessa to come down, because there are few things more pleasing than besmirching the dueler's code by having a little elf girl as a second. Charming. ]