[closed]

[heirring]

WHO: Wysteria, Cassius, Flint & Various
WHAT: Catch-all for fantasy August....which is just August
WHEN: August
WHERE: Kirkwall/The Surrounding Free Marches/misc
NOTES: Content warnings in subject lines; holler at me if you want a bespoke starter, otherwise feel free to drop me a start for whatever your heart desires.

Comments

[heirring]

The second lance is passed into Ellis' possession when he's ready for it. Afterwards, quite uninterested in being employed in picking up anything else (be it lances or people), Wysteria makes to clamber up the side of the cart so she might perch there on its edge and get a good view of the carnage.

"Sometime in this hour if you please, gentlemen. Otherwise the sun will have shifted and my hat will have stopped doing any good."

She has gotten herself quite enough freckles for one season, thank you.

puttin' this all into your hands doctor

[heorte]

A brief, genuine smile for Wysteria, without any accompanying commentary on the hat, before Ellis obliges and turns his attention to the task at hand.

Here is the thing: Ellis had already resolved, before anyone got into the saddle, to go easy on Tony for the first few rounds.

It was only fair, to let him acclimate before trying to actually knock him off his horse.

So know that this is Ellis' intention, as he spurs his horse into a gallop towards Tony, bringing his lance to bear.

juggles

[propulsion]

Welp.

There is only a brief wide eyed look from Tony as Ellis and his horse surge forwards, but just for a split second. Then, he slaps down the visor of his helmet and kicks his own steed into gear, and the overlapping rhythm of heavy horse hooves thumping into the earth takes over the peace and quiet. The lance sways off course for several crucial feet, locking it into place just as—

The end of the lance collides and breaks against Ellis' shoulder, a moment earlier than instinct might have anticipated as Tony bears it forwards at, apparently, the exact right moment to lift Ellis up out of his saddle almost cleanly to let his horse continue without him.

"Ahh!" is Tony's muffled yell of adrenalised-surprise as his horse continues on its gallop for several paces. He drops the lance to grab the reins and haul it around to brake.

[heirring]

Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa go eight horse hooves over the dirt. Wysteria has set to make minor adjustments to the arrangement of her hat and is, truthfully, watching with more or less only one eye in the anticipation that they will—what? Breeze by one another? Miss entirely? Certainly not—

The crack of the lance seems very loud. Or it's Tony's shout that is. Or it's the sound Ellis in all his armor makes when he splats to the ground (it's the season for mud). Or it's her own unintelligible squawk of alarm, remarkably shrill from inside the veritable megaphone cone of her hat.

[heorte]

Whatever Ellis had been preparing for, it was certainly not this particular outcome.

He doesn't flinch from the hit, but there's no way to stop the effects of it as Tony's lance catches him up. The solid force of it bears him up out of the saddle. There's a moment, just a moment, where Ellis is aware of being airborne and then—

Impact.

And then an echoing groan from inside the helmet, which trails into laughter as he rolls towards once side in an attempt to return to his feet.

[propulsion]

The horse beneath Tony is a little confused, and paces sideways with an annoyed snort as Tony goes to dismount in a clanky hurry, hopping along until he can shake his boot free of the stirrup. He is standing and steady in time to see Ellis rolling to get to his feet, which is great, because—

"Yeah!"

Arms up, like \o/ so. In the far off distance, there's probably a peasant minding their own business but feeling compelled to turn and squint at an echoed woo from the foothills.

Back to here, where Tony is not all the way done celebrating by the time he makes himself useful, giving Ellis a hand up. "You good??" he says, having shoved back his visor. Hopefully the answer is 'yes', because he laughs as he claps Ellis on the shoulder, all glee.

[heirring]

And in rapidly intensifying volume, the doppler effect in living color as Wysteria slips down from the edge of the cart and comes galloping down to meet them:

"—was outrageously well placed. I can hardly believe it. If I were you, Mister Ellis, I might suspect that I had been cheated by a lying scoundrel perfectly well trained in the subject of knocking people from their saddles. Oh Mister Stark," like an accusation now that she is well within in range. "Do tell us that isn't what you did to earn being the iron man. It would be very unsporting."

It doesn't sound like she capitalized it.

[heorte]

The answer is yes, though it comes in the form of a creaky shake of the head and a tapering laugh before Ellis can get his hands up to lift the helmet off entirely.

"It was a fair hit," Ellis tells Wysteria. "Even if he had more practice than he let on."

It's not that Ellis is saying that jousting might be a factor in iron man duties, only that it wouldn't surprise Ellis if it did.

"You do it that way in the joust. Aim there, and hit just the way you did. No need to worry about all those other angles you were talking about," Ellis advises. There is real pride in his voice over Tony's success. Ellis is pleased by the entire arrangement. Seeing Tony take to something so quickly is worth any bruising he might wake with tomorrow.

[propulsion]

"——never done it before!" primarily aimed at Wysteria, where the verbiage just before is an incoherent run of words before it resolves into at least the back end of a coherent sentence, if kicked up an octave. Gesturing inwards, splayed arm outwards.

But that bristle of defensiveness is temporary if not outright performance, a smile still creeping in at the corners. Tony does pay attention to Ellis and his summary, and he curls his hands back into 'yesss' fists. When is this tourney thing again. Is it tomorrow. He's ready. No notes.

Well—

"Okay, but, you weren't trying to hit me back," Tony says. "So this time it's for real. Okay? Everybody, let's reset." Is Ellis actually good to go again? He wheezed a 'yes', so definitely.

[heirring]

"For real," she repeats back, her scoff equal parts delight and mortification. "You have already laid the man out once, Mister Stark; you can't seriously mean to do so a second time."

These protests would probably mean more if she weren't actively brushing the clinging grass and sod off Ellis' plate, and then checking the layering of the armor where he'd been struck to be certain that his arm will still be afforded its mobility. He'll need it in order to properly control both horse and lance for the second run.

[heorte]

For his part, Ellis has submitted to the inspection without complaint, lifts his arm and rotates it as prompted. All is as it should be. If there's bruising, it's not a pressing issue now.

"We'll see if his luck holds, ey?" Ellis tells her, before whistling after his horse. The mare had strayed towards the far end of the field to graze. After ignoring the first two whistles, she finally comes trotting towards them so Ellis can swing back into the saddle and reach down to Wysteria for the lance