milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's a Sidhe princess in the bar.

She's been feeling sorry for herself and been keeping to herself. There's dark shadows under her eyes and a quiet tiredness around her. Now she's sitting in a arm chair and curled up around a book. Tea and breakfast next to her.

Feel free to bother!

[OOC: Mun is here all day but might be a bit slow, baby and babysitting..god save me from highhanded 9 year olds]

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She grins a little at him, watching..keeping close to the ground like her father taught her. Chin down to protect her neck, hand wrapped around the hilt firmly, and slowly she begins to circle.

"So you say"

He isn't bad...but she's better. It has been a long time since Arithon s'Ffalenn had only a knife to defend himself, and he's dropped most of the training between when he (reluctantly) learned and when he started to gain control of magic and the sword.

Which is why in what would be a humiliatingly short amount of time (if he were the type to feel humiliation), there is an opening that Merry can quite easily take to dis-arm him and lay him out.

She on the other hand has just recently gained control of her magics. And there she is on bended knee watching with the pulse racing thud of someone who has had to fight for their life before.

It sharpens the senses and hones the reflexes. When it comes she dives in. Knife fighting Merry style is a reckless free-for-all in effort to get the upper hand and quickly. Feet and hands strike out and she pins him to the ground kneeling ontop of him his knife kicked to the side.

Panting she peers down at him, a bit surprised to be honest.

"You win, Princess."

He grins up at her, panting a bit,

"Next time a different weapon?"

"I dunno" she grins back down at him and pushes up and off "I kinda like winnning"

A chuckle. "Alright...what weapon next time?"

"Sword or magic, my preferences."

He tugs on the heavy leather bracers he always wears, making certain that his shirt his still tucked under and hiding the scars on his arms,

"I am not bad with a bow, but not terribly good and I am afeared of guns."

"I warn you, my magic is..not fun. And once it does it's work I do not know how to undo it"

She really doesn't want to turn Arithon into a big ball of living flesh, organs on the outside not the in.

"I could teach you a gun if you'd like"

"I do not like guns."

He stretches, and gives her one of those looks again...seeking it out,

"Ah. Yes, that would be something of a problem, wouldn't it? Death magics...no, perhaps we should stick with swords."

She watches him with a small smile "I see"

She doesn't press about the gun and then nods "I've had some training with a Rapier.."

Part of his personal nightmare hell involves people falling down with large poritions of their backs missing from Joe's guns.

"I have not used a rapier in a while, but I am certain we can work something out."

"Then we shall both be rusty and perhaps you will have a chance to beat me" She grins her brows lifting up

"Ah, Princess, the knife is not my favored weapon. Mind, nothing with an edge is really. I would far prefer it did all battles take place in the realm of satire."

He purses his lips and whistles something. There are, obviously, no words but it sounds absolutly risque.

She blinks and then laughs at him, her head falling back, good spirits returning.

"You are a odd" her eyes dance merrily.

"An odd what?"

He grins,

"I am Masterbard. And music rarely causes death."

She chuckles a little "You are a odd man" is what she meant to say

She tilts her head "I dunno I've heard of some instances where it has."

"Far fewer, though, than those fights where iron was involved."

He picks up his sword and re-attaches her to his hip.

"True" She grins and tucks the knife away. Sitting, sweat drying in her hair and on her forehead and she glances around. "I need to find more people to fight with" a chuckle.

"I suggest Sir Alanna, Jiask...Faith, that is, or any of the other members of Security."

He stretches gracefully, bending and twisting until he's limber again.

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