fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Monday Morning

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The Salle, Monday Morning

It had been very, very, very good for Arthur's nerves - not that he ever had nerves, thank you - to come home to an empty dorm room last night. He hadn't known where Leto was, nor had he particularly cared, and instead he'd abused the new space to get a chance to breathe.

The last week had made a fine attempt to do his head in. Arthur was, of course, better than that, and when he arrived at the salle that morning he was feeling remarkably fresh for the first time in far too long.

Starting in on an intermediate drill, he took the time to enjoy the fact that his muscles were finally moving properly again. God help them all: Arthur was actually feeling chipper.

The only thing that interfered with that at all was the thought that he was, at some point, going to have to talk to Leto in a way that didn't involve shouting.

[[ open like the salle is! ]]

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She'd looked through some of the reference material in her pack to find the place; Uncle Aaron didn't do things without reason, after all, and she wasn't nearly as practiced as she should be with the only weapon she had. The yo yo was small, but well weighted, and she'd discovered last night in her room that it 'slept' easily enough. She'd learned, however, by nearly losing her microscope, that the room was a bit small for practicing what she wanted to.

Hence the salle.

She acknowledged Arthur with a nod before finding an open area and pulling out the yo yo; then she flicked a chipped nail in the groove to pull out the string. That was slipped around her finger as she grabbed the trick book out from under her arm and laid it on the ground open to the second page.

Yes, she had a lot to learn.

Arthur... would've been more than happy to ignore her if it hadn't been that she was using what looked to be a small round thing on a string in the salle. That? That was far too small to ever hope to aspire to being a flail of some kind.

The dubious staring may have been obvious, but by now he knew better than to open his mouth and acknowledge ignorance.

The dubious staring was annoying, but she decided to ignore it.

She flicked out the yo yo forward. Up. Back. with startling speed. She moved to turn the page when she saw him again and turned with a huff.

"What?"

"Is that supposed to be a weapon of some kind?"

So much for good intentions. Although, in Arthur's books, that was meant to be polite, and even somewhat managed to sound it.

She nodded.

"It is. It was a gift from my Uncle Aaron."

In the back alley of a restaurant that was currently being rebuilt, her Uncle Aaron had spread out all manner of weapons for her to touch and play with. 'Our tools' he'd called them and she'd certainly wanted to use each and every one. But he'd told her that this was her weapon, that the weaknesses of the tool were her strengths; she would be brilliant with the others, but this one might save her life.

...she was sort of her Uncle Aaron's favorite.

Edited 2009-05-11 12:00 (UTC)

You could kind of read from Arthur's face that he had no clue how anything that looked like that could be a weapon (italics included ~~oh Bradley~~), but he would bravely persist. Well, at least it hadn't started glowing or anything. Blunt force? Choking?

He wasn't actually sure what to ask. Admitting that, however, would be a worse folly.

When he realised that no sensible questions were there to be asked, he said, "Do you get much of a range out of it?" which, at least, satisfied the tactical part of his mind.

Once they did this 'cabins' thing, he was really going to have to sit Morgana down for a good, long ~~bitching session~~ chat about how nothing about the island made sense whatsoever.

After the week back home that she had endured, Gwynn was all too happy to be back in Fandom. This could be evident by how early she was in the salle practicing her sword work.

She nodded at Arthur respectfully when she caught his eyes and then turned back to her routine with her practice sword.

"I have, in fact. I nearly got my Uncle Aaron with it the first time he let me use it. It helped coming here when he gave it to me," she admitted, looking down at the stainless steel body.

"I wanted a sword but he said this would be better for me."

"Sir Gwynn," he returned, nodding his head, and forever mildly baffled with how to deal with the whole female knight thing.

And she wasn't a Jedi knight, which meant there was probably yet different protocol to follow. If there was any. Arthur had been more than a little confused on that matter ever since he got here.

"Better than a sword?"

All right, there was some of that dubiousness returning, although, seeing that how she was a girl, he couldn't really fault Aaron. "For your purposes," he added, with understanding, when that idea had landed and made itself comfortable in Arthur's brain.

She paused in her work and gave him a small smile. "Good morning, Sir Arthur. How are you on this day?"

Spend a week in Briton and her accent and her mannerisms did indeed show through in her actions. "Was there any invasions or trouble while I was gone?"

Because, it was good to be prepared for such things happening so there were no surprises when coming back.

Edited 2009-05-11 12:36 (UTC)

Romeo wasn't necessarily in the mood for a spar (he was nonviolent enough that the one from Friday would last him for quite some time, thanks), but he wasn't about to simply take two weeks in a row off. And, too, he wanted to talk to Arthur without trying to beat his brains in.

So he stopped by that morning, but in his work clothes. "Good morning."

"The day has treated me well so far," he said, embarrassingly grateful for social address that he actually understood. "I heard there was a small invasion last week, but it was dealt with," he said, "How was your journey?"

Beating brains in was, as a rule, how Arthur communicated with his friends. It probably explained a lot about his troubles recently.

"Romeo," he greeted, making note of the boy's clothes as he broke drill after a few more strikes and turned, "Good morning."

Edited 2009-05-11 12:46 (UTC)

The comment put a thoughtful look on her face as she considered whether he'd said something stupid and male or not.

"The purpose," she said slowly, as if this should be obvious, "is the same as if I were to wield a sword. Thos is more flexible."

Gwynn gave him a smile.

"The journey was relatively safe and without peril. The peril happened when I got there. I barely had time to get off of my horse and get cleaned up before someone or another wished to talk to me of matters of great import." The last part was said with more than a little sarcasm. "As usual, the plans and arrangements for how to handle certain things in our country ended up being a great deal of talking with nothing really being said."

Without the rigid schedule she'd had back home, Elspeth was tempted to grab a few extra hours of sleep before her class. But with war looming back home, she daren't risk losing any bit of practice.

She put on a long-sleeved tunic and breeches suitable for physical activity and made her way to the salle. She found a practice sword and started running through warm-up exercises against a set of pells.

This was about the point where Arthur realised he had just encountered yet another strange thing. "Right," he said. Because if anything, he knew that tone - and look - from Morgana. "Of course. Flexible how?"

She was very... open about her country.

It was also a complaint Arthur fully understood and could sympathise with. "Dignitaries will have their boring speeches," he said, "At least you've managed to survive."

There was... yet another female swordsman. Swordwoman? It was that Arthur was used to seeing Morgana do it, at least back when they were younger. He didn't dwell too long, but he did shoot her a glance as she worked, trying to get some idea of her ability.

Gwynn saw no reason not to be open about her country. When people came from her country her first year here to kill her in order to lash out at Phillip and her family, Gwynn had learned that there were people here who if they knew the danger, they would get involved whether you requested them to or not.

She smiled at him. "Sir Arthur, I tell you quite truthfully that I would rather endure those dignitaries and their speeches for as long as time willed, than the attention King and family give to me when they are done for the day."

And Romeo tended to communicate in dirty jokes and rivers of emo. It might be a miracle that they found common ground.

"I'm not prepared for a full workout," he said, just in case Arthur had suddenly been stricken blind, "but I didn't wish to lose two weeks in a row entirely without at least talking with you. How have you been?"

It was the dirty jokes, surely.

"I can tell," Arthur said, dryly, and with his usual understanding of the concept of mercy. "My father's ward's arrived to make my life miserable, but otherwise I don't have any complaints." Beyond the usual.

Also, beyond wanting to choke Leto to death at times, but he really wasn't going to share that with Romeo.

She noticed he was watching and gave him a nod in greeting. After her warm-ups, she switched to some of the more advanced exercises Alberich had been teaching her just before she left.

It wasn't showing off, exactly. She needed to do them every day. That she chose to do them now, at the moment where she had a bit of an audience, that was just happenstance.

Arthur's eyebrows went up a bit. Although, really, family in his case meant his father, who disapproved of almost everything he did, and Morgana, who was the world's greatest pain for sure. So, again, he could find some sympathy.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "I know a few dignitaries that may change your mind. What's the bother, then?"

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The Salle, Monday Morning

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