[He chuckles and it's warm and fond. He gives Orlok a quick scratch on the shoulders, positive encouragement for playing nicely.]
She won't be for long. [Even in the few months he's had her she's grown rapidly.] She's a purebred Nohrian Trotter. [There's a beat where he realizes that means less than nothing to someone unaware of the terrifying reputation of his country's cavalry.] That is, a war horse. Give her a year and she should reach 17 hands easily. [His tone is prideful. As a child growing up in the gutter he'd never imagined a future where he owned one of the most expensive horses money could buy.]
[Having taken her measurements, Crookytail apparently decides that Orlok is just the right size to be a playmate. She wheels away from the foal--an impressive motion in a wormipede--and gallumphs a body-length away before craning her head back in a universally entreating gesture. Well? Did her new friend want to go for a run?
Myr cocks his head at Niles' explanation, actually putting his hands thumb to thumb as he works through that measurement in his head. Horses weren't for city elves or Circle mages any more than they were for guttersnipes; his understanding of them isn't yet intuitive. After a moment, though, he gives the odd little hum that stands him in place of a whistle.] Maker's breath, that's--impressive. Will you be training her for battle?
[...It's curious, suddenly, to think Orlok might be the only horse so-trained in Aefenglom. The Cwyldtid weren't a conventional army to be routed by well-deployed cavalry and Morgana had shown them amply that war between the cities needn't involve standing armies.]
[Run? Run. Run! Orlok does a little half rear in excitement then speeds past Crookytail, accelerating impressively quickly, before looping back in an arc and slowing down to a trot as she circles him. This new thing was strange of shape and smell, but if it wanted to play chase, then she decides its a friend.
The question catches him off guard, but he answers it near immediately.]
I wouldn't know how to. I was charged with her care and keeping, but she was raised, broken, and trained by royal stable hands. [He hums softly while he considers it more. Her unshakable nature, something she lacks now, had saved him on the battle field more than once, but he had no intention of becoming a soldier of any sort here. On the other hand, having a horse trained to have no qualms about trampling over people had its uses off the battlefield too. He'd murdered a man by running him down with Orlok once, but he was young and quite powerless then. If he needed to kill someone now he wouldn't outsource it to his horse. He could do his own dirty work.] But I don't think I would if I could. I want her to be strong and sturdy, but she doesn't need to haul a ballista or charge through lines of infantry.
[Now that Crookytail and Orlok are off to the races, Myr unslings his staff from its accustomed place on his back, planting the end and leaning on it comfortably. His expression's thoughtful as he listens to Niles' explanation, though the...tense of it is somewhat puzzling. She was raised?]
She's--the younger self of a horse you knew before, then? [Well, why not, if people who came through the mirrors could be from anywhere in their own timelines relative to each other. He taps his fingers on his staff thoughtfully as he considers that. Then:] That seems...right, and kind. Terrible as the battles they've got to fight here are, it is a relief they seem to have forgotten full-scale war.
Yes. There's a brand on her neck if you look, -er feel, beneath her mane. Royal steeds aren't just branded with the crest, there's a secondary mark for the specific prince or princess it belongs to. [He pauses, tilts his head to one side.] I suppose she could be Odin's horse, but Leo's steed was a gelding.
[Next he hums in agreement. Some of the cruelties and injustices of this world are all too familiar, but at least so far here he'd not seen any mass graves.] The problems here feel closer, don't they. [He remembers retreating from the oncoming Hoshidan army, the looming inevitability of it, the powerlessness. Nothing here felt like that, no matter how grim it got.] Were you ever a soldier?
Huh. [That's food for thought in more way than one. The mirrors' working might have been beyond the Coven's immediate capacity to solve, but there surely had to be patterns to them.
And, of course, Myr's always curious about the lives of others.] Odin was one of your fellow-retainers?
[He--checks a little at the return question, blowing out a breath and leaning a little more on his staff. This is still uncomfortable to talk about, even with someone he's asked for help in regaining his skills--someone who has every need to know.] Training to be one. I was apprenticed as a knight-enchanter and only a few weeks shy of my vigil.
[And then, well--two guesses at what interrupted him, and they're both missing from his face.]
Yes. He was an odd one. [In more than one way. Niles trails off here for a moment. Odin was a strange man with no origins, often ignorant of things he thought were widely known, and occasionally spoke in bizzare idioms he'd never heard. Basically...a lot like interacting with some mirrorbound. Was it possible he too was displaced from somewhere else? He teeters on the edge of that rabbit hole of thought, but swats the question away with a flick of his tail in the grass. They could come back to that when it was time to fetch the animals. He doesn't know the specifics of the ceremony that 'vigil' implies, but he understands its function well enough. Awaiting promotion, learned but not experienced. And then...different experiences he supposes. He sees Myr's discomfort and decides to stop throwing darts at a board positioned squarely over something raw and hurting. He needs to know what Myr's capable of, but so much of the specifics don't matter.]
Once Leo was sent to the front I was enlisted as an archer at his right hand. [It'll be infinitely easier to just describe what he knows, what he's familiar with, what he thinks he can teach, and let Myr ask after what he wants.] So I've got some tactics, and a bit of field medicine, but before that my primary position was bodyguard. Whatever weapons or spells you studied I may not be experienced in myself, but I've probably trained to defend against them. Hopefully that means I can help you hone them.
[Niles makes the right call--in talking specifically about his skills, it seems Myr can relax back into himself rather than give off the nervous energy of a deer who's scented a predator.] None of my magic matches up with what I trained in any longer, I'm afraid, unless you count being able to call wasps on someone, or overgrow her position with a marrow vine.
[Useful tricks for a Faun to have, but not even the whole of a Creation mage's abilities any longer, let alone a knight-enchanter's.] I'm best with the staff and spirit blade, though I haven't found a replacement for mine yet. [Translation, given the fleeting haunted expression across his face: He hasn't wanted to find one yet.] --They're blades made wholly out of magic, so they don't have the balance or heft of a regular sword. Can cut through just about anything, though.
[bioware literally gave them lightsabers can you believe this]
I can use a knife but all the tricks I know assume my opponent thinks me helpless and will have me inside his guard already, [so they're not much use for actual fighting, just a very nasty surprise.] And you've,
[He stumbles a moment over the memory in question. It had been a bad night.] You've seen a little of what I can do unarmed.
[Mostly be too drunk to defend his Bonded from a very, very determined kidnapper and get himself stuffed into a wardrobe upside-down.
He likes to think he left bruises but that's hardly any salve for his pride.]
[He's repaid L for that night, both in hours spent struggling under his heel, and by returning what he'd stolen. They've not only buried the hatchet, but actually managed to cooperate and collaborate. They have an unusual, but seemingly resilient, kind of alliance now. The damage they've done each other has (largely) been put behind them.
He's done exactly 0 simmilar atonement to Myr despite having done massive collateral damage to him in the process. His jaw tightens, and he gives himself the luxury of letting his ears pin back fully. A full feline wince. There's real contrition in his voice when he responds.]
No, I haven't. I ambushed you while you were drunk. I went well out of my way to avoid seeing what you can do. [That's...something like an apology. He'll get there.] Let's change that. [Hand to hand is the easiest place to start and, in Niles' opinion, the most useful combat skill to hone.] I want to see how you compensate for your blindness as well. I can't imagine landing a punch is easy in endless dark. I'll circle you and I want you to keep facing me. Strike when you feel I'm in range. Agreed?
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faithlikeaseed) wrote2019-08-01 12:00 am
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She won't be for long. [Even in the few months he's had her she's grown rapidly.] She's a purebred Nohrian Trotter. [There's a beat where he realizes that means less than nothing to someone unaware of the terrifying reputation of his country's cavalry.] That is, a war horse. Give her a year and she should reach 17 hands easily. [His tone is prideful. As a child growing up in the gutter he'd never imagined a future where he owned one of the most expensive horses money could buy.]
no subject
Myr cocks his head at Niles' explanation, actually putting his hands thumb to thumb as he works through that measurement in his head. Horses weren't for city elves or Circle mages any more than they were for guttersnipes; his understanding of them isn't yet intuitive. After a moment, though, he gives the odd little hum that stands him in place of a whistle.] Maker's breath, that's--impressive. Will you be training her for battle?
[...It's curious, suddenly, to think Orlok might be the only horse so-trained in Aefenglom. The Cwyldtid weren't a conventional army to be routed by well-deployed cavalry and Morgana had shown them amply that war between the cities needn't involve standing armies.]
no subject
The question catches him off guard, but he answers it near immediately.]
I wouldn't know how to. I was charged with her care and keeping, but she was raised, broken, and trained by royal stable hands. [He hums softly while he considers it more. Her unshakable nature, something she lacks now, had saved him on the battle field more than once, but he had no intention of becoming a soldier of any sort here. On the other hand, having a horse trained to have no qualms about trampling over people had its uses off the battlefield too. He'd murdered a man by running him down with Orlok once, but he was young and quite powerless then. If he needed to kill someone now he wouldn't outsource it to his horse. He could do his own dirty work.] But I don't think I would if I could. I want her to be strong and sturdy, but she doesn't need to haul a ballista or charge through lines of infantry.
no subject
She's--the younger self of a horse you knew before, then? [Well, why not, if people who came through the mirrors could be from anywhere in their own timelines relative to each other. He taps his fingers on his staff thoughtfully as he considers that. Then:] That seems...right, and kind. Terrible as the battles they've got to fight here are, it is a relief they seem to have forgotten full-scale war.
no subject
[Next he hums in agreement. Some of the cruelties and injustices of this world are all too familiar, but at least so far here he'd not seen any mass graves.] The problems here feel closer, don't they. [He remembers retreating from the oncoming Hoshidan army, the looming inevitability of it, the powerlessness. Nothing here felt like that, no matter how grim it got.] Were you ever a soldier?
no subject
And, of course, Myr's always curious about the lives of others.] Odin was one of your fellow-retainers?
[He--checks a little at the return question, blowing out a breath and leaning a little more on his staff. This is still uncomfortable to talk about, even with someone he's asked for help in regaining his skills--someone who has every need to know.] Training to be one. I was apprenticed as a knight-enchanter and only a few weeks shy of my vigil.
[And then, well--two guesses at what interrupted him, and they're both missing from his face.]
no subject
Once Leo was sent to the front I was enlisted as an archer at his right hand. [It'll be infinitely easier to just describe what he knows, what he's familiar with, what he thinks he can teach, and let Myr ask after what he wants.] So I've got some tactics, and a bit of field medicine, but before that my primary position was bodyguard. Whatever weapons or spells you studied I may not be experienced in myself, but I've probably trained to defend against them. Hopefully that means I can help you hone them.
no subject
[Useful tricks for a Faun to have, but not even the whole of a Creation mage's abilities any longer, let alone a knight-enchanter's.] I'm best with the staff and spirit blade, though I haven't found a replacement for mine yet. [Translation, given the fleeting haunted expression across his face: He hasn't wanted to find one yet.] --They're blades made wholly out of magic, so they don't have the balance or heft of a regular sword. Can cut through just about anything, though.
[
bioware literally gave them lightsabers can you believe this]I can use a knife but all the tricks I know assume my opponent thinks me helpless and will have me inside his guard already, [so they're not much use for actual fighting, just a very nasty surprise.] And you've,
[He stumbles a moment over the memory in question. It had been a bad night.] You've seen a little of what I can do unarmed.
[Mostly be too drunk to defend his Bonded from a very, very determined kidnapper and get himself stuffed into a wardrobe upside-down.
He likes to think he left bruises but that's hardly any salve for his pride.]
no subject
He's done exactly 0 simmilar atonement to Myr despite having done massive collateral damage to him in the process. His jaw tightens, and he gives himself the luxury of letting his ears pin back fully. A full feline wince. There's real contrition in his voice when he responds.]
No, I haven't. I ambushed you while you were drunk. I went well out of my way to avoid seeing what you can do. [That's...something like an apology. He'll get there.] Let's change that. [Hand to hand is the easiest place to start and, in Niles' opinion, the most useful combat skill to hone.] I want to see how you compensate for your blindness as well. I can't imagine landing a punch is easy in endless dark. I'll circle you and I want you to keep facing me. Strike when you feel I'm in range. Agreed?