[Backdated to January 16th; OPEN]

[not_apriest]

Who: Aramis and ANYONE
Where: A makeshift training room of sorts
When: Morning, January 16th
What: Aramis is training; the last few events have made it obvious he should stay sharp.
Rating: PG; will update if required


He'd discarded his doublet, chemise and boots on the floor near the far wall. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, he moved through the room, cutting swathes through invisible enemies as he practiced various forms. He was focused on what he was doing; he might not notice a visitor immediately.

Comments

Action Okay?

[evilhandissues]

Frustration is the name of the game. Lindsey doesn't have a lot to do, he's bored. So when he comes to practice his own work he doesn't notice Aramis either. For a moment. Then.

Well then he'll just stop to watch.

Hell yes!!

[not_apriest]

Blades swept through the air as he turned, when he realized someone considerably more substantial than his invisible opponents was standing in the room. He continued the momentum of his movement until two blades stopped inches from his throat. He lowered them, then, standing up straighter.

"Lindsey. Did you come to practice?" He'd taken some training from Aramis. Perhaps he wanted to work on his technique as well.

:3

[evilhandissues]

Lindsey was thrown back by that, hands raised. He's allowed it to rust for too long, "I'd like that. Keep things moving forward. It is important to me, just with the holiday..."

He shrugs, "Would you be up for that?"

<3

[not_apriest]

"Certainly. Did you bring a weapon?" he asked, raising his own.

:3

[evilhandissues]

Lindsey blinks, "....No."

He frowns, "Where - I guess not then."

[not_apriest]

"Any closet can provide you with one," Aramis points out. "Fetch one and return. Quickly," he adds, shooing Lindsey towards the door.

[evilhandissues]

It's a good fifteen minutes before Lindsey returns with a sword from his own closet, "I can never get over that."

[not_apriest]

"Mm, but it's handy." He was a little breathless; he'd continued to practice while Lindsey was gone. He held tucked his dagger back into it's sheath at his back and held his sword out in challenge.

"En garde."

[evilhandissues]

Lindsey takes his stance - better then when he started but still not great. He's watching the other man warily however, intensely.

"...Can I ask you a weird question?"

Unaware clearly that en garde means be ready on all fronts and no talking.

[ex_alighthouse135]

Elizabeth heard the sounds of what she hoped was only a work-out going on. It drew enough curiosity for her to investigate. Especially since she didn't regularly hear or see anyone practicing indoors rather than outdoors.

When she finds the room and looks in, she stops at the door and draws back.. then peeks inside again. Oh my. She shouldn't be watching this! He's not fully dressed!

[not_apriest]

Practicing so intensely can make one a little warm. He hadn't meant to startle her. Nor did he mean to startle her when he spun around with two blades raised to suddenly find himself face to face with her.

Granted he was startled himself. Almost enough to drop the weapons, but he recovered his grasp on them clumsily.

"Miss Elizabeth."

[ex_alighthouse135]

"Oh!" Yes, she was very startled indeed and flinched a bit, but deep down she knew Aramis would not make a mistake like actually skewering one of his friends. He was too good for that.

"Monsieur, I'm sorry to disturb your training."

[not_apriest]

"No. No, it's fine." He shifted his weight awkwardly a moment, then gestured into the room. "Perhaps you'd care for a lesson."

[ex_alighthouse135]

"A lesson?" He did mention that she should be armed last time.

"Sure! I can't say I'll be very good." She's never actually handled weapons before.

[not_apriest]

"You'll be fine," he assures her with a soft smile. He hands her the sword. "Is that too heavy for you? We might have to procure a lighter foil from the closets."

[ex_alighthouse135]

She takes the sword, but her grip is delicate. Obviously, she's never held one, even if she's read plenty of books about dashing swordsman.

"It's fine." Elizabeth will make do with whatever he provides her with.

[not_apriest]

"No," he assessed with a slight frown. "You won't have the manouevrability." He nodded towards the door. "We need to find a closet; we'll get you a weapon you can handle." He took the sword back, ushering her out the door alongside him, leaving his other belongings where they were. They wouldn't be gone long.

[alwaysnext]

It's not a fight. Luke thought it was, was prepared to stop it (or lets be real, he'd go find someone else to stop it), but it's just Aramis.

Just Aramis, who, as it turns out, is very decent for an old bloke. Not just the shirtless thing, which is something he appreciates, he truly does, but Luke's never seen the Musketeers in proper action. The way he fights is half-athleticism, half-gymnastics, graceful in a way Luke didn't think existed outside of big budget films, let alone when you're holding a giant sword.

He waits until there looks to be a decent pause in the activity, and then breaks out the applause and a whooping cheer. "Way to go, Monsieur Aramis!"

[not_apriest]

Aramis quickly turns towards the door at the sound, lowering the blades because he recognizes the voice. He's not sure how to respond to what sounds like very enthusiastic praaise when it's expressed in a way he's not too familiar with. He settles on a shallow bow.

"Luke." He nods and approaches. "You've been keeping out of trouble, I trust?"

[alwaysnext]

Luke's grin only broadens at the bow, caught somewhere between insane fanboying and finding that adorably quaint. No one has ever bowed to him before. And Aramis still hasn't put on a shirt, which, y'know. Cool.

"Yeah, yeah," he responds easily, before tearing his eyes away and up at Aramis' face and muttering "no". What did he do to give Aramis the impression that he was the sort of kid who stayed out of trouble? "Do you always fight like that? D'Artagnan never showed me anything like that."

[not_apriest]

Aramis raises his eyebrows slightly. "Is he giving you lessons? I expect he'd start with something a great deal more elementary. His style isn't that different." A small quirk of a smile. "If decidedly more reckless."

[alwaysnext]

"No. He's not giving me anything." And doesn't Luke look decidedly miserable about that. Under the impression that Aramis is the one who once gave him very inappropriate advice about his love life, he decides to spare his feelings and keep his rejected kiss a secret. But that doesn't mean he can't look supremely miserable about it

"He showed me how to hold a sword once, and then he pushed me over. That was his lesson. He never did anything like that!" He brightens up, because did he mention how amazing that all looked? "How did you do that stuff?"

[not_apriest]

Aramis, for his part, had forgotten completely that Luke had even received bad advice, much less that he'd followed through with it or that Aramis, himself, was supposed to have given it. His forehead creased slightly in consternation.

"...He...pushed you over...? Perhaps he was trying to teach you something about balance. That's what much of it relies on."

He handed his own sword, with a simple but clearly finely crafted hilt, to Luke.

"Show me how he taught you to hold it."

[alwaysnext]

"With your sword?" It's a disbelieving murmur. The sword is so much nicer than anything he's used before, and Luke is not the world's greatest competitive athlete. He doesn't want to damage it. He wraps his fingers carefully, clumsily around the hilt.

"Okay, he never actually showed me that bit," Luke admits, holding the sword with both hands because he's suddenly terrified of tripping and slicing someone open. "But he did tell me to start like this."

He settles into the footwork he'd tried so hard to copy all those months ago, and glances up at Aramis for approval.

[not_apriest]

Aramis nods, things making a great deal more sense. "And that's when he pushed you." He steps in, nudging Luke's foot to the left with his toes. "Your feet are too close together. I expect it didn't take much of a push to knock you over. You want them a good shoulder-width apart to form a steady base."

He turned to physically remove one of Luke's hands from the hilt of the weapon, adjusting the grip of the other. "It's a rapier, not a broadsword. One hand." He pulled his dagger from its sheath at his back. The hilt matched the sword. He demonstrated the way Luke should hold it. "You want a firm grip, but don't lock up your wrist."