milliways_bar | (no subject)

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teja

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OOM: The World We Live In.

Fury is out back doing sit-ups. Rather more specifically he's got his legs hooked over a tree-branch and is doing sit-ups from that position, curling up toward the sky until crossed arms touch his knees and then relaxing until his head is again pointed at the ground. His sword is hung within easy reach of him, and there are several knives strapped to visible portions of his body.

He has a modern shirt draped near his sword, as purple as his armor, but his boots and trews are proper garments for a man of his time and place. He only wears modern clothing when he must.

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Teja is outside as well this morning, to practice with his axe; he turns his head to glance at the man who is exercising his muscles.

There seems to be much of them.

"Greetings!" he says, politely.

[[OOC: Hope you don't mind -- I've somehow felt like tagging Sir Nicholas for ages...]]

((No problem! I always welcome tags.))

Fury turns to look at Teja's axe, and then the man behind it. He doesn't stop his work while sizing the other man up, but nods once, "Good day. I would greet you properly, but I have yet to finish. Do you mind?"

"I would not mind a man doing his exercises, as any must that will hone his fighting skills," Teja says, turning his axe around to lean on it. "I do the same, most mornings."

"At my age a loss of condition could be deadly." Fury agrees with the next relaxation, "It is far easier to lose it than to regain it. Sir Nicholas Fury, late of 1602, currently of 2020."

"Greetings, Sir Nicholas Fury," Teja says, in acknowledgement of the introduction. "I am Teja, son of Tagila; I was the last king of the Ostrogoths in Italy and fell in battle, on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius, in the year 552 of Christian reckoning."

Pause.

"And even though I am dead, I would stay in fighting condition!"

Alyx should be back fairly soon, so Gordon left a note with the Bar for her and figured he'd head out to the target range. He's got the pulse rifle and the shotgun with him. True, he intends to loan out the shotgun when the time comes, but given the Combine soldiers' tendencies he figures he can acquire another pretty quickly, so he'd better not get rusty with it.

He knows better than to interrupt an armed man exercising, so he's going to wait until Fury's done before greeting him.

"I know no other way to be." Fury admits, "I have fought all of my life."

He is what he does.

"Good day Master Freeman." Fury calls, finishing and dropping to the ground with admirable dexterity. "How does the day find you?"

"All right so far," Freeman answers. "Door's still not working, so I was going for target practice. Yourself?"

"Keeping myself ready." Fury says with a thin smile, "For whatever may come next. The young lady has acquired a name, that was a good thing to hear. Is your acquaintance settling in well?"

"So have I," Teja says. "All my adult life, there was war in our lands -- hidden and brewing at first, devastatingly in the open later. I would swing my axe in earnest, more often than not."

Pause.

"The oldest among the fighting men of my people was Hildebrand -- I was of one age with his grand-daughter Hilde, with whom he raised me in my youth; and yet, he stood beside me in my last battle, with his mighty stone war-hammer, and went on with my people, after my death. Compared to him, you are yet young!"

"Alyx? Yes," says Gordon. "She's visiting someone else's Earth at the moment, or there'd be introductions."

There's almost- almost- a smile at the thought. Alyx tends to provoke that kind of response even by proxy. Gordon's just used to keeping an impassive face more often than not.

"Mr-- Sir Fury." Billy acknowledges. "Hello."

He had been wandering around outside, with his eyes on the sky. He looks much better than the last time Fury saw him.

"Five and sixty." Fury says with a small shrug, "It is still old for a man in my position."

Which position he holds fairly close right now. "I was born in the slums, and fought my way to cleaner wars."

Fury notices that smile and laughs. It's not an unkind laugh, at all. "I look forward to them, Master Freeman, when the opportunity comes."

"Sir Nicholas, Master Kaplan, or Fury. The title is paired with the given name." Fury says without pause, "You appear much better."

Ah, well, should've expected that. Gordon nods. "Worst comes to worst, it'll happen the day the door opens," he says. "How've things been on your end?"

He didn't get where he is by being slow on the uptake, no. "This is true. Things have been slow, but it is not an ill thing. I have taken the time to catch up on my histories.

"As well I have found that they have named our little trio."

"It is old," Teja agrees. "Most men of that age, in my time, would remain at their homes and train their grand-sons to be fighters."

Pause.

"But all wars are dirty, in one way, or another."

"Is that so?" Up goes one eyebrow. "This should be interesting."

'Enemies of the state' is too generic, and totalitarianism doesn't necessarily equal communism, so 'counter-revolutionaries' isn't likely to be on the list either.

"Anti-Citizens." Fury says with amusement, "In consideration of the fact that two of us are not even from the appropriate world seems rather more apt than they intended."

"Things aren't better back home but -- they are here." Billy's grinning shyly. "Sorry. Sir Nicholas."

"This is good." Fury says with approval, "Finding a better place to recover is important in surviving a war. I do not mind, Master Kaplan. My world's titles are not yours."

"All wars are dirty in some ways." Fury agrees, "Yet some are squabbles to the death over bread, and some are outright and up front."

"But those that are fought between armed men, on an open battlefield," Teja says, "may decay, fast, into pitiful squabbles to the death over the last piece of bread left in a devastated village, or a city under siege."

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