milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Garion is out back, no children or wolves in sight.

Garion is doing sword practice.

...Garion is here for all your 'wow, that is a rather large sword even for someone like Cloud Strife and it seems to be on fire' as well as 'I'm rather aggravated and need to vent some agression' needs.

Have at.

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Sharpe's sword is not on fire. But he had a similar idea for all that, and walks out to put it into practice.

He puts his own down and leans on the hilt before grinning at Sharpe.

"Hello..."

He nods to his own sword, and Sharpe's.

"It is a nice day today, isn't it?"

"Nice enough weather, aye." He nods.

He settles down on the grass.

"Nice and cool, not too windy."

He lived on the Isle of the Winds. It's aptly named.

"The day chase you out, or just in a mood to practice?"

"Little of both", he says on a sigh. "It's nothing at home, though. Just the latest crisis here."

He raises an eyebrow.

"The latest crisis here?"

"Young friend o' mine's got himself hurt. Again."

He blinks.

"How? When? What's happened?"

...he's been so damned oblivious upstairs.

"I don't think it were in the main bar. And he'll be fine."

But he's still not happy.

"That isn't really an answer," he points out as kindly as he can manage.

"Concussion", Sharpe tells him with a shrug. "Something to do with a man from his world."

He nods.

"Fair enough. Then again, I'm the last to be throwing stones about the the 'no business' rule."

...or 'no violence.' 'No sex' was a given.

"I'll be seeing what's to be done about it, later."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Done about it? How so?"

"Security", Sharpe reminds him.

"Just checking," he answers. "No offense meant, of course. I just forget you're security on occasion."

"Easily done. I'm only part-time, and all."

He grins.

"It's not a job I could do," he admits, "so that you do it at all I find pretty amazing."

"It's not so far different from what I used to do. 'cept stopping fights, not ending them."

Semantics, maybe, but there is a difference.

He chuckles.

"That would be the point."

He taps his temple.

"I tend to stop them ... permanently."

"By choice?" Sharpe asks curiously. "Or does it take over?"

He's got a vague idea what Garion means.

"Depends on how upset I am."

He shrugs.

"Part of my heritage. I've been told it crops up in Alorns every once in a while. Considering how Sendarian I usually am, it's almost a helpful reminder."

"S'pose it might be, at that. Proof of your blood."

He almost snorts.

"No need for that."

He shows his palm, and the pearlescent birthmark at the center of it the size of a child's heart.

"No one but my bloodline carries this mark. And the penalty for trying to fake it is horrible enough that no one's tried it."

"I meant the Alorn part, lad. The purest bloodline's got a little of others mixed in."

He nods.

"Well, of course. I couldn't do what I can do if I wasn't also descended from Grandfather, after all... and he's not an Alorn."

"Then why the reminder, if it's only your grandfather?"

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