(no subject)

[the_lioness]

There are certain feelings people get when they are being watched: a sudden chill, hair standing on end, the sensation that every noise in the room is suddenly amplified.

Alanna feels all three. Her skin practically itches with awareness as she lifts her head like a wolf scenting the air.

She's here; War is watching her from a few feet away, and it's time.

Calmly, Alanna nods, gives Adam one last strained smile and leads the way outside, head held high. She has a feeling it will be important to her to remember that later.

[OOC: This is NOT plot locked. Once War tags, feel free to post/thread underneath. It will, however, be massively slowtimed over the course of the weekend. :D! ETA: Warnings for violence.]

Comments

[redhorserider.livejournal.com]

It's like old times, she thinks. The calm before the storm.

The evening sun glints off her sword as she stands with her hair down, awaiting the battle. She digs the tip of her boot into the ground, setting her footing and she stares at Alanna, orange eyes burning; she smiles.

[the_lioness]

Face impassive, Alanna says nothing. Unlike her opponent, she is not yet dressed for battle, clad only in form-fitting breeches and shirt. There's a new bracelet on her wrist and a piece of red hair, not her own, tucked in a safe place. Her mail and sword rest under a nearby tree as she stretches and takes a moment to appreciate the warm air.

If one must fight a duel with the anthropomorphic personification of war, this is an awfully pretty evening to do it.

Alanna grins recklessly, amused at an unexpected spark of excitement.

[redhorserider.livejournal.com]

War raises her sword up, examining it -- it's been so long since she's gotten to properly use it. It's a very straightforward sword, long and sharp; it looks both old and unused; and it has nothing ornamental or impressive about it. It was very obviously a sword created to slice, chop, cut, preferably kill, but, failing that, irreparably maim, a very large number of people. It has an indefinable aura of hatred and menace.

She takes a step forward. "We just gonna stand around all day?"

[the_lioness]

"Patience is a virtue," Alanna says lightly.

Sparing a glance for the sword in question, Alanna smiles to herself and finishes her stretches. No stranger to such malice, she thinks of Roger's blade, melded with Lightning, and of Werewindle, currently occupying a corner of their flat.

Perhaps she should be more afraid, but there's nothing but certainty and determination as she puts on her mail.

[redhorserider.livejournal.com]

Perhaps she should.

War rolls her eyes and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "Well, do let me know when you're done taking your sweet time."

[the_lioness]

Red hair quickly tied into a tight knot at the base of her neck, Alanna shrugs and lifts her own blade. In contrast, hers is light and almost delicate looking, but it was crafted by fairies and is anything but weak.

Alanna rolls her neck and kicks dirt over her boots. There are people about, she knows, but she dare not glance in their direction. Not now.

"Shall we discuss rules?"

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

Every duel needs spectators, otherwise what is the point? Honour needs a witness or three. So Mordred is watching, leaning against the tree smoking with one hand in his jacket pockets, watching with golden eyes that seem so, so terribly amused.

It could be a mask, it could not. It's Mordred, after all.

[redhorserider.livejournal.com]

Orange eyes meet gold and she winks. One simple wink.

[whitest_witch]

Jadis is there. How could she not be?

Whether it be curiosity, concern. . .

She is there.

Watching.

[creator_raven]

There is a sharp and raucous cry from above as Raven circles the battlefield-to-be.

Some traditions are made to be kept, after all.

He'll be down.

Eventually.

[magius-unlocked.livejournal.com]

Watching from nearby, Magius leans on his staff, eyes gleaming. This tradition is one that is shared on his world. He watches, and waits to see what will happen.

[and-far-away.livejournal.com]

Sharpe's outside, watching with keen attention.

Alanna, it seems, has no shortage of seconds.

[misterparker.livejournal.com]

"What's going on?" Parker asks. Thom seems unreachable, and his sister... Well, Parker hadn't really thought about what being a knight meant.

[and-far-away.livejournal.com]

"A duel, lad", Sharpe tells him. "Don't know what about."

[misterparker.livejournal.com]

Parker glances over, "You think it's to the death?"

[and-far-away.livejournal.com]

"I hope not."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy saw them leave and followed behind to join the gaggle of spectators. No prizes for guessing which duelist he is siding with. He rests his back up against a convenient tree trunk, casual posture belying his tenseness.

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

Mordred resents being part of a 'gaggle' and, besides. He totally had that whole cool-leaning-against-a-tree-thing first

So far, the tally is three undecided/unknown, two to Alanna and one watching both. It's nearly amusing, really, to see the alliances lining up.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy is a professional leaner. Regardless of whether Mordred was doing it first, Indy's slouch is just about as casual as you can get without actually dozing. The convenient tree in question is a chestnut. Maybe it's the same one that Mordred chose.

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

Mordred isn't going for casual. He's going for lazy, yes, but he is still male enough, still mentally young enough that a duel between two redheaded women (leaving aside the whole kinda-affair-thing with War) is, well.

Interesting.

There is also more then a dash of his normal mockingness. Because, Mordred will be Mordred and this whole thing is amusing the hell out of him.

Lets retally.

Thom, Adam, Sharpe, Indy, Raven = Alanna
Jadis, Magius = unknown
Mordred = both/neither

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

Shall I assume, [comes a light, throaty and, above all, familiar voice,] that you are mentally cheering on the Lioness?

[Delia steps out from behind the chestnut tree, and raises one of her delicate brows gracefully.]

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I think that'd be a safe assumption to make," Indy replies.

He doesn't turn away from the action.

"Evenin', Dee."

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

[it's shame Indy isn't looking at her, because the way Delia's face lights up at the casual nickname is truly remarkable]

Good. I'm doing the same.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Her response causes Indy to move his head in her direction. There's no eyebrow, but you get the sense that he'd like to lift one.

"Really?"

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

[She had told Indy, horses are far more sensible creatures. And so they are]

[this does not, however, stop her from looking up at the duel every now and then. Look up, raise an eyebrow, roll her eyes and turn back to the horses.]

[until...]

[until War throws her sword and Thom goes flying (http://community.livejournal.com/milliways_bar/13200170.html?thread=545664810#t545664810) and

she

can't

hear

herself

scream.]

[short, sharp; more a shriek then a scream, but it's a loud, piercing sound of Thom! as she stands there, frozen, one hand to her mouth and her eyes so terribly wide]