[OPEN]

[noble_son]

Who: Nathaniel & YOU
Where: In the grounds
When: Far too early in the morning (4am - 6am), April 1st
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nathaniel finds his way outside with a rudimentary archery target and a couple of lanterns. In the dark.

The Story:

He found it chilly when he stepped outdoors, but not enough to make him shiver. The cool air prickled through his clothing and nipped at his fingers for a few minutes before the mild exertion of walking warmed his blood enough to drive it off.

Carrying a large, round archery target under one arm and two lanterns in his hand, he moved far enough from the mansion to not be too much at risk of hitting anyone with a stray arrow (though close enough to be seen should someone peek out of the door or glance through a window) and carefully hung the target on the lowest bough of a tree. Beneath it and slightly behind, he set one lantern, retreating with the other and putting it down by his feet some three hundred yards away from his target.

THUNK

The first arrow hit with a satisfying sound and swung the target back, making the tree branch bob up and down.

He could be found there for the next couple of hours, long after the sky began to turn light and the lanterns became little more than ornaments. He paused briefly to turn them off when they were no longer needed, setting them together not far from where he stood. Almost anyone venturing near would find themselves easily spotted, the bow in his hand lowered and a small nod given to allow them to pass without danger.

[while Nathaniel is not overtly affected by the event in this post, I welcome anyone who is :D]

Comments

[morework]

THUNK

...No, not quite yet.

Two hours, rewind.

Two hours after midnight, and a cool breeze runs through Cullen's hair. The light of his lantern disappears past the forest line. The worst of the last event's aftermath has passed, but sleep did not come in its stead; first out of refusal, and then-- The event hits at midnight. Cullen will not know it until later. For the time he feels only the death of his unease, replaced by something cold and hollow. He tries to lie down, but sleep refuses him out of habit.

That is when he thinks to exhaust himself, and try again in the morning. The light of his lantern disappears past the forest line, and for over two hours he fights, stances and swings practiced beneath the trees. When he is satisfied with the exhaustion in his limbs he extinguishes the lantern, and heads back to the mansion's lights in the distance, when--

THUNK

Now. An arrow buries itself in Cullen's side, and he falls to his knees with a startled cry.

[needlebearer]

Arya watches from the lower boughs of a nearby tree, eyes flickering from the archer to the target, enjoying the satisfying thunk the arrows make as they hit true. She hadn't expected anyone else to be around at this time, her own sleep pattern still not having recovered to anything resembling normal after so many months on the road, but watching the rhythm of the arrows, the familiarity of his actions, is a comforting distraction from her own thoughts.

"You missed."

An unwarranted observation that would surely be unwelcome, but it comes tumbling from her mouth before she can stop it.

[bowsniper]

Sometimes Clint found it difficult to sleep, or to stay asleep. He's spent years working as an undercover spy, an assassin, an Avenger, and that wasn't even taking into account the years prior to that. Sleeplessness was almost like a familiar companion some nights, which is why he was up on the roof just as dawn was breaking looking out over the grounds. It was hard to miss the guy shooting arrows at a target and Clint grinned. It wasn't often he found someone else who knew how to use a bow, most people back home preferred guns...or a shield or a hammer...

He made his way down until he was about a hundred feet behind the guy and he notched an arrow and let it said right passed him easily hitting the bullseye.

When Nathaniel turned around it would see Clint standing there with a cocky little smirk on his face, the ass.