fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Monday... Afternoon

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The Salle, Monday... Afternoon

Arthur hadn't been able to make it down to the salle at his usual time on accounts of the fact they had only arrived that morning. Still, Dinah had been on the same trip, so the message had been ~~handwavily~~ communicated during the way back.

Not that Arthur hadn't managed to get a lot of training in during the trip, but the sword in his hands was more familiar, a better friend than the quarterstaff.

He was not particularly violent or passionate today, simply sliding through his motions with a clear purpose. Felt good, as always, to give his muscles a workout.

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Dinah had already had one heck of a work out this morning, with Lucivar, but no way was she missing another. Even though her body was convinced it was now Monday evening, she headed into the salle ready to practice again, cheerful. With only a few extra bruises, ow. "Hey, Arthur. Glad to be back?"

"I suppose," Arthur said, mildly. "Kaeleer wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Mostly because he'd actually been in an environment where he could use his education and breeding to charm the metaphorical pants off of anyone, but nevermind.

"No?" Dinah teased, picking up her sword and wincing a little. "Even with the cliff-diving dragons? Which were awesome." A few bruises from that, too.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm mildly astounded by the fact you haven't broken anything," he said, squinting at her. "But bruised, I see."

"Enh." Completely worth it, all of them. "Cliff-diving." The one on her shin, from misjudging the depth at one point. "Unicorn-riding." And sucking at the dismount. "Sparring with Lucivar." Ow. Heh.

Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes, and managing a toss of his head that thoroughly communicated how stupid he thought she was in general. "Prince Lucivar is ten times as good as you are, if not more," he judged, "You came out lucky."

And, okay, a little pride that she hadn't been beaten into a pulp, but still.

"He didn't go easy on me," Dinah protested, which wasn't a denial, exactly. But no, he probably wasn't playing at the top of his game, either. She'd thought that maybe he was recovering from something, the way he was careful with himself. "And I got some good hits in." A twirl of the sword. "Fighting for sixteen hundred years is way longer than I can wrap my mind around."

"...He's sixteen hundred years old?"

This is Arthur's dubious face.

Dinah stopped where she was getting into position, to run through their argument in her mind, and said, "I'm wrong. Seventeen hundred." Which, she'd been too busy trying not to get beat up to really react to that, and Karla had said 'longer-lived races' enough that she hadn't stumbled at it. But yeah. "Which, hey, well-preserved for his age, I gotta say."

"...That must be some sorcery," Arthur muttered, blinking. "He didn't seem it. Oh well."

He was going to act like he was shrugging that off, and then hope he'd actually be able to shrug it off. As it stood, he had to strike his own position.

"Probably goes with the wings," Dinah pointed out, and got back on stance. "Did you spar with anyone? Can't slack off 'cause it's vacation." As Lucivar had made sure Karla had known. That was still funny.

"Well, you were there when I sparred Prince Lucivar," Arthur said. He was going to keep using the title in the face of Dinah blatantly refusing to. "Otherwise, I've been training all week, no worries."

Dinah grinned at his response and blithely said, "Oh, I don't. I'll leave that for fussy guys. They all seemed proud of it there." And raised her blade, and watched for an opening.

Considering that Arthur had brought up his sword in a way that the uninitiated could refer to as 'lazy', openings seemed abundant.

They weren't.

"I can't even begin to imagine having to wait after women all day."

Yeah, lazy, Arthur, shyeah. Right. Dinah grinned at his disgusted tone, and slowly started to circle. "People wait on you," she said, looking, looking, looking for a chance. "Although not as much here--"

And strike!

And... block.

Better luck next time, Dinah.

"Please. I don't spend nearly as much time on my wardrobe, for instance, and I do in fact remember when to eat."

Okay, he spent half as much time on his wardrobe.

Which was still a lot.

Shut up.

"I remember to eat." All the time! That was the time to be eating. "I don't get--"

Nuts! And disengage then feint, and then slice toward his middle.

"--why those girls don't want to." Because Dinah was usually way healthy and not at all delicately balanced. Unlike them magic-users. "And you don't spend as much time on your appearance just 'cause your hair's short."

Arthur with long hair: he'd have it braided into military plaits or something every. Single. Day.

He still went to the hairdresser probably more than he'd ever admit to. Hush. "Then those girls should consider cutting it. I'm not getting into a hair-discussion with you, you can do that with your female friends."

Caught the feint, caught the blow, struck out at her shoulder.

Dinah snickered, then had to concentrate in order to not get more bruised, and still wound up having to back off a few feet as the sword landed a glancing blow along her arm. Gah!

Brass tacks, forward slice down up and hey, maybe staff vs. sticks again later...

There was a Merlin, as per usual. Though this one wasn't napping, he was mostly just frowning at the odd time difference that seemed to have occurred.

Arthur came to sit with him eventually, as was his wont. "Glad to be back?" he asked.

"As much as any time," Merlin replied, leaning against him.

With Dinah gone ~~omg modder~~ Arthur didn't have as much of an issue with shifting with it, giving Merlin's arm a little squeeze. "I'd have thought you'd be more eager to spend some more time there."

Unlike Arthur, who was still trying to wrap his head around the ideas of having established something like diplomatic ties (or at least common courtesies) with a realm made entirely of magic.

"It's nice," Merlin granted him. "But it's not home."

"It isn't," Arthur agreed.

Neither was this.

He gave Merlin a tired little smile.

"Looking forward to the dance?" Merlin asked, bumping him with his shoulder.

"It's just another dance," Arthur pointed out, shaking it off. A little bit, anyway. "People will start idle conversation, some people will dance, the music will be awful, and before night's end someone will have spiked the punch."

"Does that mean you don't want to go?"

Arthur snorted. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, "Of course I'll go. I do have to make an appearance."

"Well, alright then." Merlin, don't smile so much.

"What are you smiling about?" Arthur asked, slanting a look at him. While rubbing circles on Merlin's arm with his thumb, but hush.

"Nothing!"

Arthur squinted. "I don't believe that for a second," he said, lightly, "But I'll let it go."

"Shall I meet you there?" Merlin asked, exhaling and relaxing a bit more.

"Sure."

He brushed his thumb along the fabric over Merlin's elbow.

"What?"

"What, what?"

"You had an odd look," Merlin replied, waving his hand toward Arthur's face.

"You have an odd look," Arthur retorted, maturely. "Always have."

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The Salle, Monday... Afternoon

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