OPEN | see, the thing is,

[poleaxed]

WHO: jone poleaxed & YOU.
WHAT: It's time to play tennis, whether you want to or not.
WHEN: Mid-late Cloudreach.
WHERE: Gallows, training grounds.
NOTES: Currently G-rated tennis, will update if this changes.

If you're one to keep track of things, you may have noticed the Gallows were relatively Jone free for the past few weeks. Frequently seen at the training grounds with varying levels of volume, at six feet Jone is hard to miss, for all meanings of the word.

And now, she is back.

You might notice her early in the day, when she's (a) stringing a bit of waist-high netting across a corner of the training yard. There are some rackets on an unused crate, along with some balls.

"Oi, help me with this, would you." She waves you over.

Or you might be caught, when the game is rolling. Of course, it's not really a game with no opponents. (b) You hear a shout, possibly a warning, and a ball comes soaring toward you. Do you catch it? Throw it back?

Or are you hit? Oops.

(c) Of course, there are polite options, like when the six foot woman hands you a racket out of the blue, shoving it into your hands if you're not amenable. "C'mon, agility training."

(wildcard) Or perhaps it's something else entirely.

Comments

[muckspout]

Edgard rubs at his nose and then spits on the ground. He picks up the ball.

"I'll catch you!" He yells and throws it right at her face.

[poleaxed]

It hits her right in the face, which is when she starts laughing. Her nose feels a little sore, but she supposes his does, too. Wiping a bit of streaked mud off her face, she says, "bad day, aye?"

[muckspout]

"Day was fine until a ball came plummeting out of the sky." Edgard grumbles, but grins in spite of himself at Jone's response.

"What you do that for? You weren't trying to hit that bird were you? It's bea-" He turns to point. "Oh." He says sadly. "It's gone.

[poleaxed]

As is often the case in conversations with Edgard, Jone briefly wonders if everything is quite alright, before realizing, ah, well, she did just hit him in the face. "I'll make it up to you," she says with a nod, "you can try'n bean me."

She hands him a racket. His aim must be grand; he's an archer.

[muckspout]

"Alright."

He grabs the racket, a little mischief in his eyes. He fidgets a little, moving the racket from left to right, weighing the ball in his hands. Edgard's never seen a racket, but he can gather what he's supposed to do. He spins it a little in his right and then turns to look at Jone expectantly.

"Going to run or are you going to make this too easy?"

[poleaxed]

Oh, a challenge. Excitement flashes in Jone's eyes. "Depends on how good a hit it is."

[muckspout]

"Alright, your funeral." He shrugs.

Edgard swings the racket back, throws the ball and hits it so that it makes a satisfying whack noise. The ball is headed, once again, straight for her face.

[poleaxed]

Jone, of course, intending to play the game, whacks it right back with a little cheer. "C'mon, lad, hit it back to me!"

Her voice is high and excited. What a jock.

[muckspout]

A smile lights up his face as Edgard realizes the game. He laughs and lunges to hit it back to her.

"Did you come up with this?" He yells at her.

[poleaxed]

Jone yelps, trying to return his uneven volley.

"No!" She manages to save the serve, and it wobbles it back toward Edgard's side of the netting. "Grand, innit?"

[muckspout]

"It's GREAT!" He yells and uses the racket to gesture just how great he thinks it is. (So much and so very great). As he's doing this, he feels a woosh of air as the ball flies past him.

He looks behind him.

"Fuck." He says thoughtfully.

[poleaxed]

"Point to me!" She laughs, excited to have won him over. It's very rare she manages to change someone's mind without applying force. "You ain't doing bad, for a first-timer."

[muckspout]

"First-timer?" Edgard grimaces at the name-calling, but his grimace hides glee. He leans down to pick up the ball.

"Maybe my first time with this," He gestures with the racket. "And this." He shakes the ball like it's a bell he's ringing.

"But, Jone," He says her name like he's mocking her. "It is not the first time I have sent something flying precisely where I want it to go!"

He demonstrates his point by throwing the ball in the air and walloping it toward her, instinctively falling upon a near perfect tennis serve.

[poleaxed]

"Maker!" But her yelp and curse comes in an excited tone. She manages to answer the serve, sending it back, but just barely. "Should've bloody guessed!"

[muckspout]

Edgard volleys it back, laughing wildly at her reaction.

"Dragon, you barely sweat. I play your new game and now you curse."

He hoots and hollers. Edgard is way too proud of himself.

[poleaxed]

"Dragons are easy!" She hits the ball back, grinning wide. "Dragons're all the same. This? This takes effort."

Sometimes, when it's harmless, it's fun to boost someone's ego. Sometimes, Jone suspects, people could use it more than others.

[muckspout]

Edgard beaming from the praise hits the ball back eagerly.

"Be sure to challenge the next dragon I meet to a game." He chuckles.

"Think this is much easier. We needed every person we had to take down that dragon!" He hollers back. "Even Benedict." He laughs in amazement. It's not unflattering, he's still just so proud of how Benedict did when he had been so hesitant.

[poleaxed]

"He's doing well, ain't he?" She hits the ball back again, falling into an easy and enjoyable pattern. "Still a bit of a tosser, I'll grant you, but he kept his head in that fight, he did."

[muckspout]

"He did! Wasn't expecting it. Half the time he only goes to training because I kicked him out of his bed."

Edgard hits the ball back using his other arm this time. Might as well have a bit of a challenge.

"Not so bad once you get to know him. Just very particular."

[poleaxed]

Maker, but he's a natural. Jone whistles approval.

"Particular? Shocked he didn't piss himself at the fight. That's pretty particular."

[muckspout]

Edgard laughs at that and his laughter almost causes him to forget to swing, but he does at the last second.

"Suppose we don't know that he didn't." He offers.

"Can't see that information being advertised!" He hoots at the thought.