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[starrydome]

He is growing restless at home and so he finds himself here, in Milliways.

He's been of a mind to go hunting (for demon bunnies as the case may be) and so he goes to the firing range, to get warmed up. At home, he might dispell restlessness by riding but here the bow seems a better choice.

So there is a half-elf with a bow in the clearing today. Hale as a warrior in his prime, with the wisdom of king's in his eyes. His hair tied back, his hands and arms unadorned save for leather vambraces.

In a little while he'll take a break. Water and fruit is witing for him next to his neatly folded robe. For now he is focused on speed.

He was never an archer. And he is a little rusty. But you know what they say about elves on even their less good days.


(ooc: instaslows. Feel free to catch him at play or at rest. Open till his next.)

Comments

[hecu_marine]

He's not the only one out on the firing line today. The other person who's come out to the bales is a Man, albeit one whose right arm seems to terminate a few inches below the elbow in favor of one made entirely of metal. His bow probably isn't anywhere near as hefty as the Peredhil's, given that it was made from yellow-orange wood shaped solely for hunting, not as a warbow- but as far as he's concerned, it'll do the trick.

There's more than one butt out there to shoot at, but Shephard would rather put up a paper target, so he's going to wait until Elrond goes to retrieve his arrows.

[starrydome]

He fires the last arrow and, seeing the Man, gives him a friendly nod before going to retrieve his arrows.

He notices the arm, of course. Cleverly made it seems, like the work of the Celebrimbor's smiths. Or like Dwarf-work.

He returns with his arrows, fletched with blue and silver, and after inspecting them discards one. It doesn't fly true, so he will have to straighten it.

[hecu_marine]

"Afternoon," says Shephard, who's tacked up a photographic poster of one of the bullsquids he's had to deal with back home. He's not currently in a position to ask the Bar for a threedee target, so the picture is just going to have to do.

Bullseyes are for people who want to shoot at bullseyes. The hunter is shooting for the hair that lies over the heart of his prey, not for the cross at the center of the gold. Why practice with the wrong target?

"Mind if I use this lane?"

[starrydome]

"Not at all," Elrond replies, in his deep, pleasant voice.

He looks at the target. "That looks like an unpleasant creature. Are the real ones hard to kill?"

He is curious, of course. Even if having a picture to shoot at seems odd to him.

[hecu_marine]

"Yeah, they're right nasty bastards," says Shephard. "Got to do it at a distance if you can. Tail's got one fuck of a bone hook in the end worse'n boar tusks, it'll take a man's leg off with a good hit. Damn things spit venom, so you don't want 'em seein' you coming or they'll target you while you're drawin' your bead. Lungs'n heart're well protected, too, so your best bet's an eye shot."

His mouth twitches a little. "Good eatin' once you soak and smoke the meat, though. Give it a couple weeks, it's as good as bacon."

[starrydome]

"And the soaking takes care of the venom? Or are there sacks you need to remove first?"

He's eaten snake once. It was not a pleasant experience and he remembered the care it had demanded getting it ready for consumption.

[hecu_marine]

"Well- first thing you soak the meat in is the venom," Shephard admits. "Got to git the sacs out first. Breaks down over time, though. More of an acid than anything else. Once it's done reactin' with the meat you ain't got much to worry about."

"Tell you the truth, these fuckers're big as ponies'n dangerous as anything that ever roamed the woods when I was a kid. I'd be killin' them anyway to keep 'em from hurtin' folks. Just goddamn lucky they c'n be a proper food source too."

[starrydome]

Elrond nods. "It always seem a shame if nothing or little can be salvaged from a kill. The wargs that plague us in winter have thick coats, but the pelts are not of much use once they have been cured."

[hecu_marine]

"Waste not, want not," Shephard agrees. "What's a warg?"

He'll reach over his shoulder for an arrow- goose-feathered, flint-tipped- and wait for the opportunity to nock it. No need to be rude, after all.

[starrydome]

"They are wolves, but fiercer and much larger. Far more clever too."

Huge, evil beasts.

Elrond takes an arrow of his own and gets ready. They are here with a purpose after all.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard grunts. "Ain't got those," he admits. "Ain't seen wolves in a long damn time, even. Nor dogs, neither."

That being said-

Well. He's faced a fair few bullsquids since Black Mesa. The poster target is twenty yards off, and it's got a good-sized eye for a beast its size. He's aiming for the bright spot on the very center of its two-loped pupil. With these things, if you don't get a kill shot straight off you have to get a lot of other shots off immediately. Anything less just gets them mad.

[starrydome]

Elrond is focusing on speed this time around. And on watching the Man beside him.

The metal arm intrigues him. He cannot help but think of Maedhros.

And it is always interesting to watch others shoot. There is almost always something to be learned from it.

[hecu_marine]

It moves as easily and as naturally as an ordinary hand, although the bowstring doesn't sink into the fingertips. And it's steady; what little motion it makes, once Shephard reaches full draw, seems to be only so much as is needed to compensate for the motion of the rest of his arm.

He waits a few seconds, the nock point just to the side of his mouth, before letting the arrow fly. There's another to join it a moment later, before he stops and glances in the elf's direction.

[sunbaked_baker]

Some time during Elrond's practice, a baker emerges from the direction of the baseball diamond. Or more accurately, from the large Merlin's Circle burned into the grass near the baseball diamond.

Rae might be a bit messy - hair trying to escape the scarf she has it tied back in, dirt smudged on her jeans - but she's whole. And not yet tired enough from her own practice that she doesn't stop and watch the elf with his bow.

She's never seen anyone shoot a bow and arrow before, anyway. It's interesting.

[starrydome]

He lets the last arrow fly. It hits where he wanted it to - more or less - and he looks away from the target, spotting her.

He raises a hand and calls, "Well met, Sunshine. It has been a while."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Yeah, long time no see," she replies with a smile, approaching closer. "How've you been?"

[starrydome]

"Well enough," he says with a small smile. "And you?"

[sunbaked_baker]

Her smile may turn a bit wry. "There've been worse weeks, so not so bad. Ups and downs."

[starrydome]

He looks at her and then he says, "Would it make you feel better to talk about it?"

Men favors directness. And she can say no.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Eh," she shrugs with a slight shake of her head. "The short version is that I killed a vampire when I wasn't expecting to have to. I reacted stupidly and scrubbed a good portion of the skin off my arm before people could convince me it wasn't helping."

The arm is nearly completely healed, at least, from both the scalding water and the too-vigorous scrubbing.

[starrydome]

He looks at her, concerned. "Is it healing properly?" he asks, more than willing to look at it.

[sunbaked_baker]

"I think so?" she says, looking at it. "I got some antiseptic aloe stuff from the bar that helped a lot. It hasn't hurt since yesterday."

[starrydome]

He looks at her. "May I?" he asks. It looks fine but he would like to take a better look. To be sure.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Sure, if you want," she shrugs, in a way possibly reminiscent of how she had done when she was ten years younger.

Only she's under no influence but her own, now. And is carrying many more scars, physical and mental.

The arm itself shows signs of having been an angry red very recently, but is healing. Everything apart from a couple of deeper scratches (already scabbed over and healing well) should be gone in a few more days.

"I've not been baking as much while it's healing - nothing that requires kneading, at least." There's nothing like trying to clean dried and hardened dough bits from already-sensitive skin.

[starrydome]

"That sounds very sensible," he murmurs, as he looks over her arm, running his fingers gently along the healing skin.

His hands are smooth and cool and strong.