OPEN | the grand tourney!

[poleaxed]

WHO: All Y'all.
WHAT: It's the Grand Tourney! Like a normal Tourney, but grand.
WHEN: August Now.
WHERE: Kirkwall.
NOTES: Sports... injuries?

Every thousand days, the Grand Tourney is organized in the Free Marches, and all the City States-- and even challengers from farther abroad-- come together to celebrate the freedom of the Marches. This year, the event was intended to take place in Tantervale.

When that, uh, fell apart, the tourney was hastily moved to the relative safety of Kirkwall.

Festivities begin early, with musicians and entertainers coming from all around to entertain lords and ladies as they set up tents. Food vendors complete the picnic atmosphere-- you may not be able to get a seat in the stands, but the hills around where the field where it all takes place makes the event easily viewed by all. Jesters, bards, troubadours, food vendors, all are happy to serve and make the event lively and lovely-- for a price.

The first event is the Joust. The announcer goes through everyone's names, their origins, the part they play, so the crowd knows who to root for and who to boo. Before the individual bouts begin, the jousters are expected to ride around the field collecting favors.

The second event is the Quintain. A similar setup to the Joust takes place, with announcements and cheering, gaining favors, etc. The major difference-- besides the content of the event itself-- is the hastily erected judge's stand, where they can view the skills of each comptetitor. Some scores are met with cheers, some with boos. Some competitors schmooze with the judges before their bout. It's all very classy.

In the intermission guests are invited to play a game of tug-of-war over two large piles of flowers and flower petals. As the loosers will discover, there's a pit of mud underneath the flowers. Hopefully you brought a second pair of clothes, or maybe you just don't care Edgard.

If tug-of-war isn't your game, there's drunken archery. Darktown's very best (worst) booze has been generously donated (appropriated) for the event. One shot to begin, and more shots for every subsequent shot of your bow. Landing closer to bullseye garners more points, and prizes can be collected for high point scores. Nothing particularly valuable, it's more like carnival fare-- stuffed toys, shiny gems (they are colored glass), wood carved in various shapes (some lewd). The most expensive prize is a hangover cure potion (it does not work).

The final event is the ever-popular Melee, where several one-on-one matches take place simultaneously, until someone is either undefeated or the least defeated. As with previous events, each combatant is announced to the crowd and expected to walk around the stands, receiving favors. However, they're expected to do this between every match in the melee, as their popularity rises... or falls.

During all of this, the ever-noble Pas d'Armes event is taking place. If you wander away from the event at any time, Gabranth will be there, at a nearby bridge, judging and / or fighting anyone who wishes to pass. Of course, if you wish to pass without issue, he will accept a favor from you. At the end, he'll be crowned with a white wreath of flowers, in a 'peace offering', and that is the sign that the tourney is done.

Not counting the partying into the night. No medieval camping trip is complete without waking up half clothed in a field, right?

JUST TELL ME WHO WON ALREADY.fine, fine, jesus.

THE JOUST

1st Place: Tony Stark, The Iron Man (Erroneously called 'The Man of Iron' at least once by an announcer. Several people in the stands asked if he was made of iron, why he was called that, what is he doing, why.)
2nd Place: Weary Winona of Wycome (Never took off her helm, which was shaped like a woman's face and painted like she was crying.)
3rd Place: 'Sir Sullivan of Bonneville'(Who might just be Edgard in disguise, however legend has it he's actually an undead noble trying to reclaim his family's honor in the joust. This legend was started by Jone.)
Crowd Favorite: Ellis, The Bachelor (He was, at one point, mostly just a mass of favors, which may have been why he didn't rank. The crowd screamed his name repeatedly and at one point threw flowers at him while he was riding past.)

THE QUINTAIN

1st Place: Derrica, the Rivaini Raider (The chant 'carry me home' began during her bout, and continued whenever she walked near the field.)
2nd Place: Derek, Son of Derek, of the Ostwick Dereks (The 'carry me home' chant continued during his bout, as some confusion arose over whether Derrica was a distant relation of the Ostwick Dereks.)
3rd Place: Madame Noir of Hasmal (A ghostly pale woman wearing only a black gown during her match, there were rumors she'd bribed the judges with money or a low neckline.)
Crowd Favorite: Beth Greene, The Lady of the Green (Rumor has it that she was a wild woman who came from the forests just to compete. This rumor was also started by Jone.)

THE MELEE

1st Place: Pierre the Virtuous of Hambleton (On a particularly sunny day, some suspect he only won because the reflection from his bald head.)
2nd Place: 'The Dark Jaguar' (Who may be Erik Stevens in disguise. A nighttime assassin, he appears from nowhere during a fight usually with the aid of a conveniently placed piece of hanging black fabric but shhhh.)
3rd Place: Laura, Lady Nightshade (Rumor has it she threw her fight to get third place, but everybody who knows Laura knows she'd never do that... right?)
Crowd Favorite: 'The Acolyte' (A young man of roughly the same height and build as Benedict Artemaeus, the crowd really responded to how nervous, yet trying to be brave, he looked.)

THE OVERALL WINNER OF EVERYTHING:
Ser John 'the Anointed John' Pembroke of Tantervale
...who trained for this every day and is a professional Tourneyman, and whose win for Tantervale really lifted the spirit of the game to a high note, so how can we be bitter, really.
(Note to 1st placers in other events: this means he beat you in your event.)

[ooc Also final reminder that you don't have to have signed up for an event to have your character participate!!!]

Comments

[tender]

Abby looks away, and Derrica's gaze doesn't waver. There's no accusation in her face. She's even quiet for a moment, turning over her memory of Ellie that night again in her mind.

"Will it happen again?"

Ellie had assured her of a truce, but it hadn't felt like much of a comfort. The Gallows is an island. How long would their truce hold in such close proximity to each other?

There are other questions. But this feels like the place to start. Derrica's tone doesn't waver over the words. But she doesn't look away from Abby, even for a moment.

[armd]

The scrutiny is deeply unwelcome. Abby doesn't move, but she wants to shrink away because it reminds her too much of how it felt to be looked at by Mel in the aftermath of Joel's death. Silent, unreadable, and all the while knowing something filled with contempt lurked just below the surface. Derrica isn't accusing her of anything, but the way that she stares feels a only a step to the left of that.

Ellie attacked her first. Abby's still wearing the evidence of that, albeit tucked away underneath of long sleeves. She wonders how much Ellie told Derrica, and it makes her feel angry, and tired, and strangely guilty.

"No."

It's not on her mind, even in light of this. She knows that she could find Ellie and finish this any time she wanted, and Abby has never wanted anything less. She's done.

[tender]

It feels like a true answer. Derrica knows how to recognize vengeance that's burned out. She knows the difference.

But her study lasts just a little longer. And then, seemingly accepting the answer, Derrica looks away. Follows Abby's sightline down to the field. There is quiet then, as if that is enough.

Then Derrica says, "You should know I care about Ellie very much," because it's only fair to disclose this. Maybe Abby guessed, maybe she didn't. Derrica can be honest with her. Especially because of what she's asking, because Abby should have the opportunity to be particular about her answer, knowing Derrica's friendships.

Maybe she should be angry. Maybe she would be, if she hadn't met Abby before she knew any of this.

"Would you tell me why?" comes more quietly, as Derrica's eyes return to Abby's face.

[armd]

Abby shifts restlessly in place to disguise the shiver that prickles up the back of her neck when Derrica finally stops looking at her. She wants to rub away at her neck or crack her knuckles, maybe fiddle with the end of her braid, needing something to do with her hands. She makes herself keep still.

"Right," she says, the words half a scoff, and to her horror, embarrassment curls up in her gut. Of course. She's gone and tried to be friendly to somebody who is already close with Ellie. What a stupid thing for Abby to do, right.

Maybe it's that sudden pain, how the whole thing feels unfair somehow, and the sharp reminder that she won't ever be able to pack up and move on from the things that she's done that influence her answer in return. It's going to follow her around, no matter where she goes. But perhaps that's the very least of what she deserves.

"No," she says, and runs her hands lightly over her knees, attempting to ground herself before she gets up. No, Derrica doesn't get to know why. Not like this; it's a private hurt.

"We done here?"

[tender]

The answer isn't unexpected, but it still catches her like a slap of cold water. Derrica's hands twist in her lap. Abby hasn't risen to her feet, so the urge to reach out to stop the motion goes nowhere.

"No," Derrica answers in return, hands folding back together in her lap. "Not yet."

But maybe Abby will walk away and that will be the end of their acquaintance.

Only there's no real end to an acquaintance while living in the Gallows, working with Riftwatch. The escape is to leave, and Derrica has made up her mind a long time ago that she wants to stay here.

"I'm not just here speaking with you because I care about Ellie. I worry for you too."

Whatever that might be worth to Abby, who knows so little of Derrica beyond what they've traded already, and now this.

[armd]

She wants nothing more than to go, but she holds still all the same. Abby feels marked, and like what she did is written across her in red ink for everybody to see. It's deeply unpleasant. Does Ellie feel like this too? Probably not when Abby hasn't said anything to anybody. She didn't even speak to the person who found her, patched her up, and implored her to do otherwise.

What Derrica says next is wholly unexpected, so much so that Abby's furious gaze leaps back at her like a spark from a live wire.

"Why."

Derrica doesn't know her. That's some comfort that she can try to take from all of this. Abby finds her friendly, likes seeing her around, but that's all they've ever been: coworkers that say hi to each other in the hallways, and she can afford to let that go if she has to.

[tender]

"Why shouldn't I?" isn't exactly a fair response, and Derrica knows it. That's why a glancing press of her fingers against Abby's wrist follows, there and gone again so quickly, as if to ward against whatever heated reply Abby might have for her.

She takes a moment after to look away from Abby, collect her thoughts. To try and drum up a proper answer to something that's difficult to put into words. It's something that has to be almost wrestled into existence, because what use is something as nebulous as an instinct?

"I want to know you better," is closer to an explanation. "The parts you I've seen are—I understood them. I think you're someone I would like to know."

Abby's voice had gone so fond, talking about her friend and the ocean. It's hard to reconcile it with the wreck of Ellie's face.

Derrica still presses on, saying, "I haven't changed my mind."

[armd]

She doesn't outwardly react to the touch but she does calmly remove herself from any more of it happening by pulling the arm closest to Derrica away, further into her own lap. It's made so much worse because she can tell that Derrica is only trying to be kind to her. She's been nothing but warm, and welcoming ever since Abby arrived, and she's unsure of what she ever did to deserve any of it.

It's so easy to push people away. Abby's good at it because she's been doing it for years, and she knows exactly how to keep it up until people stop trying but she's tired. And lonely. It's hard not to have people to talk to. Having Lev around cracked her open, she thinks. He didn't just scale the walls, he pulled them down.

She swallows back the knee-jerk reaction, the you really don'ts. She thinks for a moment, her jaw working before she asks, "How much did she tell you?" Because she feels that she has the right to know that.

Because Derrica can't know everything, or she wouldn't be trying to reach out.

[tender]

Maybe this is a fair question too.

But Derrica hesitates over the answer anyway, because some part of her feels as if it's a betrayal. Had Ellie told her that in confidence? Does it matter if she relates it to Abby, who surely is aware she'd killed someone Ellie loved?

"Not all of it," is what Derrica settles on. "I know it wasn't all of what happened, but I didn't—"

A break. Derrica breathes out hard.

"I didn't press her. And I don't want to press you either."

It would be like digging her fingers into an open wound. The damage it would do wouldn't be worth whatever she might find in the process.

[armd]

She doesn't know how Ellie handles grief, a strange thought that suddenly occurs to her while she's processing Derrica's evasive answer. Is she the type of person to talk in detail, or does she clam up around the hurt and hide it away? She said something, obviously, but how much? Where did she draw the line?

I know it wasn't all of what happened. Derrica is at least aware that there's another side. But Abby can't begin to imagine how to bring her dad into this, even if only to defend herself. She flinches from the thought, the inside of her cheek pinched between her teeth. She's protective of his memory. It's all that she has left of him.

And now the anger and surprise is burning off, leaving her heavy. Abby feels like this a lot lately, which she doesn't like, because it's hard to find something to do with it. All it wants to do is sit in the middle of her chest and make it difficult to breathe. She isn't sure of what to say, though. Can't even be bothered accusing Derrica of harvesting information about her to take back to Ellie, because she's genuinely too nice to even be thinking of pulling that shit, and Abby knows it.

Instead, she nods out toward the tournament, feeling transparent when she finally clears her throat. "... Don't miss the start of the melee."

[tender]

If Abby hadn't so clearly telegraphed that she didn't care to be touched, Derrica might have put a hand on her shoulder. Instead, her fingers twist together over her stomach, indecisive.

She follows the tip of Abby's chin, observing the collection of hopefuls. A few of Riftwatch stand out. She can see Loxley, and Erik. But she turns her attention back to Abby rather than rising.

"I won't," she reassures, though she might. "Will you answer one question for me before I go? Please?"

[armd]

"... Depends," Abby answers honestly, her attention barely wavering from the crowd around the field. People drifting around in groups, pushing forward into the best seats for the best view of the melee. The singing has started up again, loud and raucous, and it carries all the way over on the wind up to where they're sitting.

Abby thinks the worst part of this whole thing is that she's going to have to go down there and pretend like she doesn't feel as if she's been uprooted. She doesn't want Derrica to know that this rattled her, even though it's likely to be obvious.

"What is it?"

[tender]

A measured pause, before Derrica asks, "Did you see a healer?"

There are no illusions about Ellie's skills. Derrica is smaller than so many of the people she's had to fight, and while it tends to make everything more difficult, it rarely prevents her from doing damage.

The fact that she can't see any obvious signs of injury doesn't mean Abby isn't carrying around some sort of lingering wound.

[armd]

It would be easier to stay angry if Derrica were meaner, about any part of this, but she hasn't been. Being curious is the biggest crime she's committed. Abby squeezes her hands into fists, and breathes slowly out as she unclenches them, rolling her head slowly to the side to stretch her neck.

... Calling Astarion a healer would be a stretch, but she doesn't want to implicate him in this, so: "Somebody helped me out with what I couldn't reach. I did the rest."

Her shoulder has been tender, but Abby knows the drill all too well. She kept the stab wound clean, and it's starting to close up just fine. Those always come together quick enough, and her arm only needed a couple of cursory stitches. "I'm fine."

[tender]

Fine is unsatisfactory at best. But considering that time has passed and Abby is upright without any particular warning signs of discomfort, Derrica is obliged to take her at her word.

"Alright."

A little reluctant, but it's acceptance all the same.

"If you'd like me to ease any part that's left, I would."

An offer made as Derrica gathers herself, rising to her feet and preparing to descend from the stands. She said she didn't want to press, and she won't. Even if she'd like to.

[armd]

"... Thank you." Because it was kind of her to offer, despite everything.

She turns away from Derrica as she stands, nearly imperceptibly. A slow angling of her body, knees shifting, shoulders tracking inward. Her chin tilting away.

This is confusing for her. She might need time to figure out how she truly feels about it. Hard to discern anything right now over the embarrassment, it's– unpleasant. She chews the inside of her cheek, and says nothing further, because she's waiting for her to leave.

put a bow on this pls

[tender]

It's Derrica's instinct to tell Abby to go ahead. But Abby stays rooted in her seat, and Derrica watches her for a long moment, expression twisted up indecisively.

"I'm not going to say anything," Derrica says finally, rising to her feet. "Not to her, or anyone else."

Is this going to give Abby some peace of mind? Maybe, maybe not. Derrica can't tell, but she offers it as a reassurance. There's nothing else she can do.

"I'm not hard to find, if you change your mind."

A parting statement, as Derrica turns to descend down to join the crowd again.