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 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."

"Which one of us are you asking?"

Her head tilts curiously and Alberic merely bows to her in another grand, sweeping motion - leaving her to wrinkle her nose and look thoughtful.

"It is not as though I am a fount of sword fighting knowledge," she begins, voice low and drawling until a nudge from the Captain makes her glance upward contritely before she continues, a bit awkwardly. (She just doesn't do nice.) "But I was impressed."

Tristran cannot help but beam at that, but he looks to Alberic for confirmation.

However, the captain is hardly helpful. Alberic merely keeps a vague smile upon his face, one that could mean everything and nothing at the same time.

An obnoxious smile is what it is - a smile that knows things. She's entirely unfond of the sudden increase of that smile since stepping foot on the good ship Perdita.

Dryly, and with a frowning glance upward, "That means 'yes,' Tristran."

"Thank you," he responds rather automatically, his smile widening anyway at that.

However, he is completely clueless to the meaning behind Alberic's vague knowing smile.

"But don't let that get to your head, lad," the captain warns, pointing a finger at him, and leaning forward slightly as though to disclose some great secret.

"You'll have to keep practicing. And remember to keep moving."

The star is still ~~pouting~~ frowning to herself - a rather sudden change from her previous, rather loudly obvious cheer - but she figures she's rather entitled to it after such a prolonged amount of happiness anyhow.

Cranky is comfortable.

"And you," the captain says, turning sharply to look in the star's direction, "smile a little more, hmm? You're far more beautiful when you smile."

With a rather mischievous grin, he sheaths his sword and nods to the couple before making his way towards the main hatch.

Suddenly, he turns once more.

"Dinner, as usual, at six bells. Don't be late. I hear Tobias has cooked up something extra special for tonight." Another grin, and he disappears.

He leaves her blinking a set of wide, blue eyes and looking altogether unbalanced and embarrassed - and red-faced - she doesn't know if anyone hass ever called her that before.

She wrinkles her nose, chin ducking and glare none too impressive.

"Obnoxious," she concludes.

Tristran laughs quietly -- more to himself than anything, really -- before clearing his throat.

"Well, he is right," he says, sheathing his own sword (which makes him swell with pride, for only heroic types and royalty tend to have swords in the first place).

Yvaine flushes brighter still, though the glare does become a touch more intimidating - he shouldn't be allowed to say things like that. It's bad enough when other people do.

"Yes," she replies quickly, chin tilted grandly and purposefully obtuse. "Dinner is soon - and will be entirely edible today. You will not have to pretend that you are enjoying yourself."

Tristran shrugs, a light smile still in place.

"Perhaps we ought to freshen up before dinner, hmm?" he suggests. "I need to change, and--" He looks at her and grins, pointing to her face. "--there is still flour on your cheek."

"Probably ought t-- oh?" she pauses, brushing the hair out of her face, blinking downward as if to check and only succeeding in glimpsing the tip of her nose.

"I swear, that man is not allowed to touch me anymore. Just makes a mess."

He laughs slightly in response.

Tristran doesn't quite think about it as he raises his hand and reaches towards her cheek. With his thumb, he gently dusts off the white powder until it is more or less just her pale glittery skin once more.

The skin under his fingers heats - one of the disadvantages of being so pale - and her back straightens.

"D-dinner," she stutters abruptly, turning him forcefully and settling her hands against the back of his shoulders, pushing him forward. "Should be getting ready. You're sweaty and I'm probably a mess as well and one should be presentable."

Well, that seems to get Tristran out of his own little...reality, and makes him feel just as embarrassed and overall stupid.

Why did he do that, anyway?

Face hot, he manages to say, "Right -- exactly. I'll -- I'll go to my cabin, and you to yours, and -- well, I will see you at dinner."

"Right," she echoes and slips around him, backing herself against her cabin door. "Exactly."

A quirky, uncertain tug of her lips - caught somewhere between making the ultimate decision to be a smile - and she clicks the door open behind her.

"See you then," her chin sets a bit more certainly and the smirking, teasing light from earlier returns to her eyes. "And don't be late. I think the old man can still take you, Prince Charming."

"Yes, see you," Tristran says, lingering by Yvaine's door for a moment.

He smiles at her last remark, and bows accordingly in response to being called Prince Charming (which makes his cheeks grow a little hot), before turning to head in the direction of his cabin.

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