The Salle, Wednesday Afternoon

[bitchprince]

It hadn't actually occurred to him until Romeo mentioned Edward's troubles the previous day. It hadn't occurred to him, and yet as of yesterday, it was suddenly occurring to Arthur rather often. This was, truly and sincerely, an utter pain. He would blame the distraction on the island's constant trials, and the only fashion in which that could be dealt with was focus. Discipline. Something which the island lacked too much to soothe his nerves.

He'd given up on the sling yesterday. His arm hadn't healed yet, and the bandage was there to prove it, but the sling was gone. It was a step both small and significant.

These two truths, joined together, flowed into one prolonged practice drill. Sometimes, his left hand even made it to the blade, and while the dummies suffered, he felt all the better for it.

Arthur, as Merlin had a tendency to put it, took playing with swords very seriously.

[[ open for all your salle needs, but cranky violent prince is cranky and violent ]]

Comments

[sonofmogh.livejournal.com]

After his trip to town, Worf showed up at the salle in order to work out some... Extra frustration.

He spotted Arthur without his sling and raised an eyebrow. "Are you able to spar yet?" He demanded.

[bitchprince]

"In mind, yes," Arthur said. He wasn't quite on the level of 'chopping off fake heads' yet, but his blows came with a mindboggling precision as he spoke.

[sonofmogh.livejournal.com]

"But not in body?" Worf said with a touch of taunting in his voice.

[bitchprince]

"If you can contain your excitement for another two weeks, I'd be glad to face you in a spar," Arthur replied, with as much politeness as he had been capable of.

He dearly hated having to tap out of these. Two weeks may not have been a truly conservative estimate.

[sonofmogh.livejournal.com]

"I see," Worf said smugly as he pulled out his bat'leth. "I assume you have avoided going to the clinic on the island for assistance?"

[bitchprince]

"That's hardly any of your business," Arthur remarked, fighting a sudden urge to pierce the dummy's body.

[sonofmogh.livejournal.com]

"It was merely a suggestion I made to you a while ago," Worf replied sharply as he checked over his weapon. "One that you have apparently ignored."

[bitchprince]

"I told you I would take it under advisement," he said, his voice as mild as he could make it, infused with cold authority. "I simply judged it unfit for the time."

[sonofmogh.livejournal.com]

"Which is certainly your choice," Worf said measuring up the practice dummies. "A foolish one. But your choice."

[bitchprince]

"So it is," Arthur agreed, returning his attention to his own dummy.

[sonofmogh.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps you should not practice while injured," Worf suggested before attacking his dummy. "I've noticed that human's worry about aggravating an existing injury."

[bitchprince]

"I have been practicing with due consideration for the injury," Arthur said, dryly, "Thank you. I see no need to lose my form over an almost-healed wound."

[lovemykilt]

[ooc: cranky and violent? How could I not?!]

Someone or something was conspiring against Priestly getting to . . . take the edge off, so he had to find some other way to do it. He decided to continue with the exercise route after cheerleading. Unfortunately, he was distracted with trying to be constantly alert for signs as to who or what was after him. Which would be how he'd ended up in the Salle.

". . . This isn't the weight room."

Oh, Priestly, you're a genius.

[bitchprince]

"Priestly. I see you're still demonstrating prowess in the discipline of astute observation," Arthur said, without as much as looking at him. He was far too busy with his drills. Right now, they involved some stellar moves one could use should one wish to rid someone of their limbs.

[lovemykilt]

Priestly jumped, demonstrating his prowess in the area of twitchiness. "You," he said, not terribly enthusiastically. He watched the sword for several moments and in light of his current theories, resisted the urge to . . . cover himself for protection. "Dude, you're gonna put an eye out with that thing."

[bitchprince]

Oh, for the love of God. "Putting someone's eye out with a sword might be a bit pointless, considering you may as well run them through while you're at it," he said, sanely, and gave one blow more power and precision by adding some backing from his other hand.

It still stung a bit, but he was more than happy to find it lessened considerably in comparison to earlier tries.

[lovemykilt]

Priestly jumped back slightly at the extra-power-blow, remembering what Dean had said about fighting and Arthur and swords.

"Didn't say you'd do it on purpose." Something occurred to him and he pointed a very slightly shaky finger at the practicing prince. "Are you the guy doing it?"

What? It seemed a little petty even for a bitchy prince, but Priestly was a little too paranoid just now to think that clearly.

[bitchprince]

And Priestly had yet again managed to elect one of Arthur's famous eyerolls. "The guy doing what," he said flatly.

[lovemykilt]

"Don't play innocent at me, you could totally be doing it. The dark ages were full of witches and weird magic crap. I've been to Renaissance Fairs, I know things."

At some point, when he wasn't quite so frustrated and freaked out, he'd realize just how incredibly stupid he sounded, right there, and want to kick himself.

[bitchprince]

"Again," Arthur said, and now his blows had slowed simply for the irritation of it, "It'd be appreciated if you let me in on exactly what you are so clumsily attempting to infer."

[lovemykilt]

Slower blows meant slightly less urge to cover himself, meant Priestly being ever so slightly less distracted and as such, mildly embarrassed.

"Attacked by squirrels, the cold shower, the trash can fire. Someone or something is trying to keep me from. . . ." He gestured vaguely. "You know."

[bitchprince]

"Oh, God," said Arthur, who spent an awful lot of time around knights and could deduct from there.

That was both information he didn't need, and an affirmation of something he was trying not to think about.

The next blow landed oddly on the neck. "No. A thousand times. No."

[lovemykilt]

"Right. And if you were, you'd be totally likely to admit it." Ah, sarcasm. Still, Priestly was now pretty sure it wasn't actually Arthur's fault. At least not on purpose. He watched the sword blows again and tilted his head. It looked like a great way to work off frustration. "Hey, let me try."

[bitchprince]

"Please," Arthur said, "You'd take your own fingers off."

He prided himself on his observational skills and judgement in this particular area.

[lovemykilt]

"I'm pretty sure my fingers wouldn't actually be in danger." Toes, maybe. But he was wearing steel-toed boots.