faderift | [OPEN] Peace Bore a Heavy Price

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[OPEN] Peace Bore a Heavy Price

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: Aleron and Nathaniel are hosting an ~~BSG boxing match~~ open sparring session to work out personal griefs within the Inquisition.
WHEN: Drakonis 30, All Day
WHERE: Just outside Camp Shady (aka, the Warden's Camp outside Skyhold)
NOTES: More information, including the rules, can be found here. You do not have to have signed up to participate. Non-combatants can come and just cheer for their favorites or appreciate fine bodies getting physical. Please note in your subject line if you're spectating, healing, or open for fighting.

Just outside the site where the Wardens have established themselves, a space has been cleared. Its boundaries are marked with some wooden posts driven into the ground with loose ropes stretched out between them. A copy of the rules has been nailed to one of the posts. It flaps in the wind, but seems to stay in place with but little fraying as the day wears on:

1. No magic.
2. A volunteer healer will determine whether someone is fit for a bout.
3. Conduct the fight honorably. If someone surrenders the fight, it ends immediately and without question.
4. Don't deliberately incapacitate someone to the point where they won't be able to perform their duties after the fight is over.
5. All weapons must be blunt, even blades.
6. Challenged chooses the method of competition.

At the end of the fight, participants are to consider their issue resolved and move forward.

Off to one side, a basic triage is set up for combatants who have taken their licks. Volunteer healers are present to offer treatment for injuries and to determine who remains fit to fight. Their decision is absolute.

For the spectators, there is ample room to stand around and watch. One of the merchants from the pilgrim's encampment has caught wind of the impromptu event and decided it's a grand time to turn a profit. He's got a cookpot set up and is hawking fine treats like fennec-on-a-stick, druffalo kebabs, and smoked nug legs. He's also selling wooden cups of ale for five coppers, but it's questionable if there's more water or ale. Let the buyer beware.

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Most would consider a defensive stance a solid tactic- in truth Adelaide simply has no true idea how to begin. Years since she's last had to spar with anyone with staves. Violence is not in her wheelhouse with or without magic. Even Martel's lessons had been more on drilling her into memorizing a certain series of motions and gestures-

None of which apply here.

Anders swings and she brings her staff up to block, slipping back on unfamiliar ground against the force of it. All her old lessons scramble in the back of her mind, her responding swing is wide, wild, and far off the mark. She's lucky she doesn't lose her grip and drop it, honestly.

If her mentors could see her? The'd be disappointed.

Shit. She's barely blocked, she didn't even come close to hitting him, and Anders suddenly realizes exactly how much of an advantage he has here. He's been an apostate for years and she's been in the Circle.

Taking it gentle is the way to go, he figures, so he swings for her knee and the swing is far too gentle, too slow, and entirely blockable. Which she does. Anders needs to focus. It's just a fight, and any damage he does he can undo. Making it easy on her is an insult, and he sidesteps back, regathering himself and putting his staff back in a blocking position.

Please let few have seen that bobble.

She's relying too much on the more recent and less relevant lessons. The way she holds her weight, the grip on her staff, everything is off and she takes the moment between one swing and the next to adjust. He comes in low and this- a basic block. Something she can manage.

Something she does with a crack of wood against wood. Anders darts back and she presses what little advantage she's gained, head of her staff snapping forward with all the same precision with which she wields her magic. His staff lifts to parry, less a solid crack and more a slide as most of the momentum of the blow is lost but the weight and force drives it in hard enough to thump against his shoulder.

Perhaps this won't be so terrible.

All right. He'd been stupid, and it's not the first time. Maybe she'd wanted him to underestimate her, because that was a solid volley, solid enough to sting. Time for something a slight step up, especially as they're far too close for using staves as well as they should.

Her staff has gone up... which means his goes down low, smacking hard against her shin before he twists to step around her and strike high. The step's too far, the aim's off, and she stops the second blow in time. But he's got a hit in, which... Well. It's not actually satisfying. He has no desire to lose. But striking her brings no joy or positive feeling. If anything, it's a sinking feeling. They've come to this, when a few months ago they'd shared his first dance under the stars.

Maybe he'll be lucky and this will be over soon.

On her game, now- and she has this. No seasoned warrior but she is not some delicate, fragile thing that will be bowled over with a few cracks of a staff.

And then wood meets shin and even through the padding of her leathers and boots- it hurts. "Merde, que les piqûres putain vous fils sournois de pute!"

Definitely not a fragile, delicate thing if she can and does swear like that as she brings her staff around to block the second, twisting to meet him. She swings hard, driving her staff down and forward- and he meets the strike head on. For a moment she glowers at him over their crossed staves before bracing herself and shoving, hard, to give them both a little breathing room.

Anders raises an eyebrow as he stumbles a few steps back. He doesn't catch all of that, but he's fairly certain his parentage has been insulted. Unfortunately she goes for his mother and not his father. "Beleidigen mein Vater, Sie werden näher."

He'll never take her to be fragile, especially not with that glower. His own voice had been mild despite the sting in his shoulder. It's clear that she's not done yet, though. Not with that glare.

Slowly he circles, studying, waiting, deciding that she'll probably try to protect her other shin after that and moving forward quickly, feinting toward it before making a real swing at her shoulder on the same side as her already-injured shin.

"Je ne parle pas Ander, imbécile." It lacks the heat it could have, more an idle mutter than anything else. Get everything out now, here in the ring- and then the matter is settled.

She does not need to forgive him. But she can stop being quite so overtly angry for the offense. Or at least she can try and remind herself that they worked it out, more or less.

A flicker in his staffwork, the beginnings of a downward strike but her eyes are on his and no. He's feignting- a solid, if sneaky, tactic and she sees it. Raises her own staff to block and misses it by that much, earning a bruise to match those on her shins- she does not quite see red so much as her anger cools into a sharpened focus. Adelaide twists away, pivoting to disengage while bringing her staff around low in a solid thump against his hindquarters.

See how he likes that.

Imbecile. He knows that one, and he shakes his head. "Wenigstens war ich nicht dumm genug, Kreise zu denken waren sicher." There's a fair chance she speaks just as little Anders as he does Orlesian, and since it's delivered in a neutral tone it probably doesn't have any impact. That's fine. He's more speaking just to speak. His grasp of his native language is a little rusty, but it feels right on his tongue.

More right than the smack to his rear end, by far. He doesn't know how she moved that quickly, and maybe it's partly his fault for trying to remember the word for 'safe,' but the strike is solid and there's going to be a bruise. Which means there's only one thing to do.

"I'll have to find someone to kiss that better," he says as he half-limps his turn, feeling the muscles and making his movements smooth again. "I'd suggest you missed my ass, but you very clearly did not miss."

And despite the teasing being fun, he's... ready for this to be done, because maybe the match will end the grudge but he doesn't know that it will do any good. Anders presses forward with a series of three swings, one high, one low, a second high, without a pause between them.

Well, she does speak a little Ander. But none of the words she knows are in whatever it is he says- but she memorizes the shape and sound. Someone might tell her, later. Someone that knows. She tucks the shape of the words away as she finishes her follow through-

Harder than she'd expected by far. For a moment there's a flicker of genuine regret- it'll bruise and bruise badly and she is not meant for such things. Not in the slightest- but then he speaks, he jokes, and she rolls her eyes as she readies herself for whatever comes next. Of the two of them he has fought far more, knew far more. Adelaide remains viscerally aware that every blow of hers? Is likely a lucky hit.

But she'll take that luck and run with it as far as she is permitted. "One cannot miss what they've never had."

Wait that was-

Not at all what she meant to say but she can focus on words or the staff snapping forward and opts, wisely, for the latter. The first blow she blocks, the second- also and she allows herself a swell of pride. She knows these motions, now, knows how to read them- "Im Krieg, Sieg, ja?"

And the third blow comes up past her guard, light crackling behind her eye as she staggers from the blow. That- that will bruise. Is bruising deep and purple as she makes one solid swing for his ribs.

Edited 2016-04-12 08:39 (UTC)

His eyebrows want to climb into his hairline. She can't mean what it sounds like. She doesn't. But he's started teasing and that's making it easier on him so he may as well continue.

"If you ever want to change that, you know where to find my ass."

A second time she surprises him with part of the Warden motto. "Ja," he says as the third blow lands. Victory indeed, though he wishes this doesn't count as war to her. Smoothly his staff comes up to deflect the blow from her ribs, but he doesn't stop there. Anders keeps moving, sweeping his staff low to go for her ankles.

"Und nun, den Sieg." It might be a little premature, but he feels it connect and he's already succeeded in a head blow. This can't go much longer.

"I- that is not what I meant-" Of course he teases and part of her already does not mind it as much. It means nothing. It won't lead to anything. It cannot.

But for a moment there's a flicker of what they had. Then she gets a staff to the face and her legs taken out from under her and- pride comes before the fall. At least she knows how to land, on her upper back rather than on her ass and skull. They hadn't really laid out how one would be the victor but this? Is fairly definitive.

As such- she stays down. Lets her staff roll out of her fingers as she rubs at her eye. "Well..." Shit. "That went better than I expected."

When the staff rolls away he switches his to one hand and leans forward, offering her his other hand.

"Here. You landed a solid blow. For an Orlesian." She'd flustered a little, the tease hadn't gone awry. It does feel better. Then again, blows landing on him always had been eased by joking. He'd mocked the Templars every time he'd been hurt, joked off each time something stung... When he'd managed that, he'd been healthier. It's something to remember. "For an Orlesian noble no less."

She's a woman of her word, which means their issue is resolved. That makes him feel even better. There are plenty he wouldn't trust to hold to it, but her? Absolutely.

"I didn't hit your head too hard, I hope?"

"I am a healer, not a warrior." Still she takes the hand as offered, pulling herself up little by little, blinking through the swelling of her eye. Merde but it stings. "It was not the blow I'd meant to land half so solid. I was aiming for your shoulders."

Or she thought she had been.

"My head is hard enough to take a few knocks, ask any of my students." Stubborn as anything, is Adelaide.

His lips threaten a smile, and there's the start of one in his eyes already.

"What, and then my ass was too irresistible? That's not the first time I've heard that. But generally they're a little more gentle."

Her movements are watched carefully, just in case. Head wounds can be deceptive. It's easy to think you're fine when you aren't, but that doesn't seem to be the case here. After he's satisfied that she's fine, he bends down and scoops up her staff as well, trying to hide a wince as he does so. That's really going to sting. He might sneak off and heal himself later just so he can actually sit to eat dinner. For now, he'll simply enjoy the feeling of being able to relax around her again instead of watching constantly for barbs.

"I should have been simply a healer. But apparently seven escapes is when they say no, they're done, you'll be dying now, which means Jonas' offer of conscription was also irresistible. So now, yes. In war, victory; in peace, vigilance; in death, sacrifice." There's no regret in his voice or expression. "It's a good cause. I was glad to be a part of it until... I was glad to be a part of it, and I am again."

"You are an ass." That is the only answer she'll deign to give him as she pulls herself up. Maker, she'll have a migraine later. Compassion already mutters at the back of her mind and that is enough for her to wave the beginnings of a healing spell into life, pressing her hand against her bruised face.

The rest she'll keep for a moment more. Or at least until she's out of view. "Until the situation demanded a change."

Without knowing the why- without wanting to know the why- that was explanation enough. "I do not suppose you need any bruises tended to- and before you say anything I am not laying healing hands on anything lower than your waist."

She gets a flash of a faint smile at the reply. It's banter. It's nice.

"Until my life was at risk because of Templar pride." It wasn't the situation. It was Templars making the situation, and he's not going to let it go that easily despite how he doesn't want to delve into the whole of it.

The last gets a shake of his head. He'll tease, but he's not going to ask her to touch him. They've possibly regained something here that he has no desire to put at risk. "I'll be fine. Can I aid you?"

Edited 2016-04-14 05:49 (UTC)

"The usual, then." Templar pride, chantry pride, mage pride. Shades of the same that twist good intent into ill, or ill intent into worse. She waves him off and lowers her hand, the bruise more or less mended. At the offer of aid, though- her eyes narrow, considering.

"...yes." She takes her staff back from him and nods back to the circle of dirt. "Show me how you did that last move?"

"No." He takes a breath as he heads back into the ring with her. "I'll explain if you want more, but no, there was nothing usual about it."

Anders gives another twirl of his staff. He doesn't need to, but it feels right whenever he's facing off and holding a staff.

"I set your expectations previously, using just two swings. When you know you may be in for a prolonged match, set a pattern that your opponent will think they see coming. It won't always work." But it had today.

"As far as the attack itself, I started high," he moves the staff slowly, bringing it forward to touch against her shoulder lightly, "low," again he demonstrates it, "and then higher than the previous high hit, to offset expectations again. Most will go for the same place. It's easier, and you're more stable on your feet if you do. I took a risk." His staff comes up again, this time stopping just short of contact with her as he holds the position. "As you can see, my stance isn't entirely balanced like this."

"That was an attempt to avoid a subject you clearly do not wish to discuss." Where subtlety fails- explanation. "It is a matter best left in the past. It is not irrelevant but it is...unimportant at the moment."

They have other things to focus on. Such as staffwork, the world ending, and attempting to find some level ground now that the matter between them is to be settled. It's...easier than she might like. A great deal of what she found agreeable in Detlef remains as there had only been the one lie. But what a lie it had been.

Adelaide pushes the thought aside in favor of focusing on him, the grip of his staff and the motions he goes through- patterns, establishing, altering. She ought to have seen that coming. "If I had managed to block a simple counter push would have bought room, yes?"

That's an adequate summing-up, and he nods to let the matter lie. It's nice to trust that he can simply talk with her. Very nice. This is why it had been so easy to start feeling for her in the first place, to let down his guard. At least this time there's no deception involved.

"Yes, because I over-extended myself. Watch for someone to go past their reach, and then block and push." He stays in the over-extended position and nods to her. "Let's do it slowly so you feel the motion. Meet my staff with yours, and then push back."

Whatever it had been in his past? She does not know if she ought to care enough to know more. That it is even in question leaves her uneasy and is all the more reason to simply...not. One day she might ask but that is far ahead; when it is safe to care. When Justice is no longer a concern.

It will not forgive what they had done but-

it will make it easier for her to know who it is she bleeds for.

Adelaide focuses on the way his balance has shifted- braces her own stance against the block, and pushes. This much is familiar, this much is safe. "I apparently need to practice my forms again. It has been some time since I last bothered."

He takes a couple of steps back with the push, nodding approvingly.

"A full push back there could have unbalanced me and given you an opening to strike in return. In fact, likely would have unbalanced me. If you want someone to work on forms with, I'd be willing. I'm working on training to be better with things that aren't magic."

Every time Leliana took away a teacher, a training partner, he'd find more. Several more. He was determined.

"Especially as the Deep Roads are once again featuring prominently in my future. Darkspawn are ever so friendly..."

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[OPEN] Peace Bore a Heavy Price

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just so it's noted: ooc communication and dice rolling is involved for all actions!

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