(no subject)

[the_cupbearer]

One immortal out back of the bar, with--contrary to the icon--no bloodied knuckles, but a short and very sharp sword. It's very reminiscent of an Iberian falcata, though somewhat slimmer and more suited to Ganymede's hands.

His motions are spare, but as graceful as is everything else about him, with little excessive motion. With his shirt off it's easy to watch the musculature play under his skin, showing off the expanse of the henna design stained onto his skin all the way up one arm and extending over his shoulder.

Botherable, though you may want to announce yourself first.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Hannibal Lecter announces himself by approaching with clearly audible steps, and an appreciative little 'Hmmm' when he is closer.

[the_cupbearer]

Well, it's not Javert.

Ganymede pivots and comes to a stop with the tip of said blade resting but a scant few inches from Hannial's breastbone over his impeccably-knotted, as usual, tie.

"Good morning, Doctor."

[cook_the_rude]

"Hello, Ganymede," Dr. Lecter says, not moving even an inch backwards. "It's an excellent morning, and you're a pleasure to observe. That is a lovely sword!"

[the_cupbearer]

"Thank you," he says, bringing it back with a smile to rest on his shoulder, cutting edge up. He has faith that Hannibal knows exactly where he is in relation to the blade.

"I've had it for some years now, but it's quite comfortable. Very well-balanced."

[cook_the_rude]

"Some years meaning how many centuries?" Dr. Lecter asks.

[the_cupbearer]

"Meaning fifty-four years," he says. "The design is much older. The sword isn't."

[cook_the_rude]

"Why did you buy a sword in 1960?" Dr. Lecter asks.

[starrydome]

He's acquired an audience of one.

Elrond has been walking through the forest and has stopped to watch. Intrigued as much by the henna, as by the fighting style.

He is dressed in long robes of grey and light blue and his hair is held in place by small, silver butterflies.

His face is ageless and beautiful. And calm.

[the_cupbearer]

The henna is a complex series of patterns, and it would likely take a while to see them all without him standing still for it.

The sword forms are graceful, but not as beautiful as they could be given the desire; Ganymede doesn't usually bother with how pretty it looks from the outside. But he does catch Elrond's eye and nods, a quiet smile on his face.

[starrydome]

Elrond observes the world the way you do when you have millennia at your disposal. Thoroughly.

He returns the smile with one of his own and the silent greeting with a small nod. Content to watch Ganymede practice and loath to interrupt him while he is doing so.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede moves much the same way; deliberately, and yet smoothly. As if he's thought these moves through so many times it's muscle memory on the same level as breathing.

But eventually he does stop. "Good morning."

[starrydome]

"Good morning," Elrond replies.
"I hope you didn't mind that I watched your training. The swords favored by my people tend to be longer and larger. Seeing the differences in movements was interesting."

[the_cupbearer]

"I don't mind you watching at all," he says, shaking his head.

"Truth be told, this is not the same kind of sword my family would have used, but sword-making has come an awfully long way since then."

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Enjolras is outside merely because sometimes a walk is useful to clear one's head. He would walk through Paris if he were home; he's not. Lacking his city's streets, nature will have to do.

He has no particular interest in Ganymede's beauty or shirtlessness, nor the aesthetics of the henna design, which reminds him vaguely of the tattoos of sailors; he notices it, dismisses it as irrelevant to him, and focuses on what's actually of interest to him. The sword, and the style Ganymede is practicing.

[the_cupbearer]

This stopping and watching people seems to be a trend among the Frenchmen he knows.

Which is why when he stops, once he notices Enjolras, and tilts his head. "Can I help you?"

[pro_patria_mortuus]

"Pardon," returns Enjolras, courteously enough.

He has manners, and he's sensitive enough to being stared at to appreciate that others might be as well. This isn't remotely that kind of watching, but nonetheless.

"I haven't seen that style of swordwork before."

[the_cupbearer]

"I don't know that it would really be called a proper style," Ganymede says lightly. "It's just the way I've been most comfortable over the years."

It isn't really identifiable by a theme; there are no continuities of flowing motions or sharp stops and turns, but rather an incorporation of most everything. "May I ask what you're more familiar with?"

[pro_patria_mortuus]

"The saber, primarily."

Enjolras is from an era when young men learned fencing for sport and for serious military use both. Dueling is done with pistols, illicitly but commonly enough, but swordwork is still a practical thing to learn for a man with certain hobbies or aspirations.

Enjolras isn't one to restrict himself to a single school. He's studied canne de combat, savate, anything anyone would teach him that seemed as if it might be useful for his purposes. Still, insofar as swordwork goes, he has a much better idea than his mun of the primary categorization of what he's learned. He adds a few more words of explanation, accordingly.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede's mun isn't a sword master, either, so he just nods along.

"Well. It's been a while since I've used a saber, as I prefer something with a little more cutting force behind it. But I'm told I'm old-fashioned that way."

[runningred]

Jay's been jogging again and stops to watch for a bit, his own scarred chest and back bare. He nods to Ganymede, admiring the fluid grace of his movements. "Nice balance." He calls politely.

[the_cupbearer]

"Thank you," gets called back, as Ganymede pivots and comes to rest on his heels again.

"That's quite a scar you've got."

[runningred]

Jay laughs, "Which one? I've built up quite a collection over the years." Three newer and more prominent knife scars mark his shoulder, chest and stomach. Beyond that are at least four bullet holes, several burns and innumerable cuts and slices.

He takes a step closer now Ganymede's stop swinging and nods to the sword. "It's beautiful. May have a look?" He never could resist a good blade.

[the_cupbearer]

"The newer ones did, admittedly, catch my attention," he says, motioning tot he man's shoulder.

"If you like. Be careful, though," he warns. The blade is exactly as sharp as it needs to be, and it's lighter and faster on the return than it looks.

[runningred]

Jay shrugs, downplaying how close any of the three stabs came to killing him. "Parting gift from my last employer. They took my resignation a bit hard."

Jay takes the blade with a respectful nod, handling it with care. "The balance is exquisite. No wonder it's so fast." He steps back and moves through a quick knife drill, graceful and deadly. "Stunning." He sighs, smiling as he hands it back. "Thank you."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede's brows raise. "I can see that, and thank you. I'll give your compliments to the maker."