an_evening_star | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's still only a certain amount of sunlight that Yvaine is willing to be exposed to at any given time - so when she steps out of the relative darkness of the kitchen it's only under the shade of a rather ridiculously wide-brimmed hat with an equally ridiculous feather sticking out of the top. She can't say that she is particularly fond of Tobias' sense of fashion. Or even if she's certain that the hat is actually Tobias' ... or a decidedly unamusing way to make her look like an idiot.

Either way it keeps the sun off of her face well enough that she doesn't care.

And from what she can tell from Tristran's current display of sword fighting prowess she could probably take him if he did decide to make fun of her - or her hat. A fact which prompts a wide grin over the clashing and clanging and thumping as she reclines on one of the barrels off to the side of the deck.

It's not like she's one to turn down free entertainment.

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The wind picks up for a moment and she closes her eyes and traps her hat under a hand, wrinkling her nose and blowing the last remaining feather out of her way when it settles once more.

"You are going home," she says, not unkindly.

"What have you to worry about other than the getting there?"

"I --"

Well, that's a hard question. When he really thinks about it, she has a point. There is no clear reason as to why he feels a vague sense of foreboding for the future (and thus would need to learn a thing or two about swords). But it's there.

~~Or could it be something to do with the actual going home part? No, of course not.~~

"Well, it's always good to be prepared for any possible worry that might suddenly show up," he finally replies.

Her lips twitch slightly again and she doesn't bother to stop the laugh. He's right, really, it's so much more free up here - she's happier, almost.

"Ah," she hums. "So this is a matter of preventing any possible worries that may cross our path?"

An affirmative nod.

"Yes, that's exactly what it is," Tristran says. "We still have a little while yet before we eventually reach Wall. We ought to be prepared for anything."

He's being much too serious again - she might have to tease him again, just because.

She straightens up, arc and entirely prim.

"Anything?" she inquires solemnly.

"Yes."

Tristran straightens in his makeshift 'seat' as well. He leans forward just a bit, taking hold of his sword once more and focuses his gaze upon the silver blade.

His voice is slightly more quiet as he says, "If that woman -- the witch, or whoever she was -- tries to...hurt you again, I want to be sure I can protect you properly."

Her mouth had been opened, ready to jab about something sensitive - but how do you tease someone properly after something like that?

Maybe she'll wait a minute or two.

She remains silent in the interim, parted lips curling rather helplessly back into a smile and tugging the hat brim down over her eyes. It's almost obnoxious, the way he can make her act utterly pathetic and very nearly not mind at all.

Again, he feels a little light-headed, and his heart is pounding. Sitting around certainly doesn't seem to be curing him of his sudden spells.

"Well," he says, getting up. Maybe if he moves around a bit, the strange pounding will go away. "I should practice before the captain returns."

She glances up again and shrugs rather diplomatically, feather flopping down into her eyes as she crosses them in exasperation.

Lazily, eyes still crossed, "He did say there was going to be testing."

And failure isn't particularly one of the Captain's favorite things.

No, it really isn't. Alberic does not tolerate failure!

"So how are you doing, m'boy?" the captain's voice booms as he returns, walking with a sense of swaggering piratey grandeur. He stops and stands by the star.

"Ready to try your skill?"

The star in question clutches protectively at her remaining feather and bites her tongue on any of a number of sarcastic replies in a show of vague support, possibly unrecognizable to normal parties.

She happens to like it that way.

"See?" she says instead, tilting her head again to watch. "Testing."

Tristran nods, glancing from Yvaine to the captain then to the training-pole. He isn't sure whether he should take a moment to practice, but the captain is scrutinizing him. And he's sure Yvaine is too.

"Yes, I think I'm ready," he responds, turning back to the captain.

He grips the hilt of his sword a little tighter and begins to make some distance between them as the Alberic steps into the improvised battle arena.

The captain moves like he always does - with a great deal of flourish (but never too much) and the sort of mastery of motion that few people really have.

The slide of his sword from its place at his side reverberates with a slick, metallic echo and his grin is wide and easy.

"Begin," he rumbles.

Gulp.

Tristran takes a breath, nodding. Right. This is it.

Lesson one. He begins by spreading his feet apart only slightly, giving him enough room to move and maintain a sense of balance.

Lesson two. Tristran gets into a defensive position, sword raised before him. He pauses for a moment, unsure of who is supposed to go first in this fight, so he waits.

Yvaine wonders, briefly, if it would be terribly unseemly for her to yell out something obnoxiously encouraging. You know, just to see if he would trip over himself - but a warning glance from the Captain makes her raise her hands in mock-surrender.

(And wonder when the man had become psychic - because that just wasn't fair. She had planned on something obnoxiously encouraging, after all.)

She does quirk a grin when the man continues with a drawn out, "Well?"

Right. So it's his move. Okay, he can do this. Have faith in yourself, Thorn. You can do this.

He takes another breath, and quickly begins to charge at the captain, sword ready at his side at the opportune moment to strike at the other man's left shoulder.

The move to parry is quick and easy - one clean, swift pattern of motion before the metal clashes and his arm turns to riposte, swinging low at the boy's midsection.

There's a smile on Alberic's face, though - a certain fire to his eyes.

The star leans forward interestedly - pulling her knees upward and crossing her arms across them, chin resting on the backs of her hands and hair pooling messily over her shoulders.

The feather makes another attempt to block her view, but she tugs it out of the way impatiently. She wants to watch.

Tristran steps back for a moment, digesting the previous move and how he should proceed.

It is clear that the captain's skill far surpasses his own very limited skill, but he's willing to try anyway.

Another step and Tristran swings his blade from below this time, sword glancing down, barely grazing the wooden deck (he wouldn't want to leave a mark, after all) aimed for the captain's leg before suddenly swinging it upwards in an attempt to trick him.

"In a real battle no one is going to wait around for you, boy," he comments in the moments Tristran steps back, though he stands his ground and waits anyway. This isn't a real battle, after all.

This move is far more impressive than the last impulsive dash and he lets out a booming laugh as the blades catch once more, turning swiftly.

The star lets out a laugh of her own as the Captain's reverberates clear across the deck. Her own is smothered quietly behind her fingers, shoulders shaking with it and unbalancing the barrel - sending her (and the barrel) to the ground with a rolling clatter and a pinwheeling yelp.

Tristran is momentarily distracted by this, and his first impulse is to drop his sword and check on her, but she seems to be okay, and Alberic is currently looking in the other direction, allowing him easy access for a lunge.

Which, of course, Tristran takes advantage of. In one seemingly flawless move, he circles his blade from the shoulder (as the previous target) to the captain's neck, sharp tip pointed upwards.

One minor move without thought, and Tristran will actually be able to nick the other man.

That may be so, but the older man doesn't seem to be particularly phased, rumbling out another deep laugh with a grin and a dry, "Touché."

He steps once - quickly to the side to finish the turn - and his arm then twists up, matching the threat to the side of the neck before dropping and being quickly resheathed.

"Though," he adds, tilting his head and moving to tug the star back up to her feet. "In a real battle, you won't have one of these."

"And just why not?" she inquires loftily, floppy-brimmed crown still sitting proudly atop her head.

Yvaine allows herself to be hauled upright, holding out her hands in an automatic kind of expectation and grinning widely and without the slightest hint of remorse.

A smirk, "You should have set rules."

The captain laughs again.

Tristran relaxes a bit, sword now at his side, to join the two of them. "Did I do all right, though?" he asks. "All things considered, I mean."