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Playing with knives

Tags: Brev,  Thomas,  Caoimhe

Short Summary: A 'chance' meeting on Bree-hill leads to an impromptu test of fighting technique. Thomas's worries couldn't be further from the truth - or could they/
Date (real-life): 2010-07-01
Scene Location: Bree Hill
Date (in-game): April 3050
Time of Day: Evening
Weather: Clear

Near the Top of Bree Hill

The road that climbs up from Bree below narrows abruptly here. You find yourself on a small and rocky path, which juts out from the side of Bree Hill. Darkness has settled upon the Bree-lands, making it hard to get a feel for the landscape around you. The only light to be seen are those twinkling up from the houses nestled below and from the stars above. Visible as a black shape in the darkness is a large rock near the hilltop.

Obvious exits:
 BC leads to Bree Cemetery.
 Up leads to Top of Bree Hill.
 Down leads to Smial Rise - At the Smials.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Jul 01 14:53:14 2010
Bree time: Evening on Hevensday of Spring - April 26,1450
Moon Phase: Full  Moon

Breelands Weather
The spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly. The moon is above the horizon and in its full phase.

It's a fine spring evening, and up here on Bree Hill it feels even finer. The sun has sunk to its rest beyond the western seas, leaving behind glorious streaks of red and purple along the western horizon. Down in the sleepy town of Bree below the first lights are twinkling, and here and there a thread of smoke rises, bringing with it the scent of dinner. And above the jagged black backdrop of the Misty Mountains to the east the first stars are shining. Just the evening for a stroll.

Brev is not taking a stroll, however. Neither, it appears. Rather he squats against the square bulk of the rock that looms above the cemetery, sling in one hand and a handful of small stones - pebbles really - in the other. Squinting, he takes aim on one particular headstone and lets fly, to be rewarded with a tiny 'plunk' of stone hitting stone. Perhaps he's practising, perhaps he's just bored.

Up the hill come a pair, not hand in hand but certainly walking together. A blonde girl and a brown-haired boy that from a distance has curls suited to a girl. "But why...." the boy, Thomas, is questioning Caoimhe. "Why carry a knife in your boot?"

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "For protection," Caoimhe explains casually, grinning a little at the shock value that she supposes her knives have on Thomas. "I keep another in my..well, nevermind that one. Point is, I've a lot of them, and they all serve me well." She keeps on walking, keeping pace with Thomas, until her keen hazel eyes spy a familiar figure getting closer. "Brev!" she calls out; someone has obviously told the girl his name. She calls it out eagerly, with a slight widening of her eyes, a quickening of her steps past Thomas, and although she tries to say it coolly, there's an undercurrent of warmth in her voice that's hard to miss.

Brev's head turns at the sound of voices and he watches the pair approach with cool detachment. At Caoimhe's shout he lifts a brow, but after a moment he raises his arm and sends the stone flying somewhat to the left of the girl - and nowhere near Thomas. One side of his mouth is twitching. "That's me," he answers levelly. "What can I do for you pair? A spot of rabbiting, was it? Or were you planning to dig up a grave or two ..."

"Brev? Brev???" Thomas repeats the name, with an incredulous stare to Caoimhe. "You -know- his name? And...and you -like- him!" he snorts, so irritated at this that he stops dead, letting Caoimhe walk on ahead of him. A second later he is trotting after her, though.

"Wait! I mean..." he lowers his voice, "he could be dangerous."

[Caoimhe(#31517)] Caoime grins broadly as the rock sails past her, and she shrugs her shoulders. "If you wanted to hit me in the head, you really need to work on your aim, jerk," she says, still with that same warmth hidden beneath the words. "I wasn't looking for you," she says quickly. "Thomas and I were just taking a walk." Judging by her scarlet cheeks, she was looking for him indeed. She toys with the bone around her neck, but as Thomas speaks, she rounds on him. "I do NOT like him!" she exclaims, loud and fervent enough to wake the dead, if they are here. "And he is NOT dangerous." And her feet, traitor things that they are, keep walking right on towards Brev.

Brev, watching Caoimhe's grin so at odds with her words, chuckles. "If I'd wanted to hit you you'd not be standing to say that. But I don't generally turn on others unless they're a threat. Dislike doesn't count, lass. Take it you'll not be wanting any pointers on fighting, then? Ah well, don't let me keep you."

His gaze shifts to Thomas, rests there. "Unless, of course, /you/ were looking for me?" He arches a brow.

"If you don't like him, then why are you marching up the hill after him, huh? And why..." Thomas scowls as the rock flies by, why are you gone all red like that? You don't even know him and you're sweet on him, that's what it is!"

The boy turns, focusing his scolw on Brev. "Me? Looking for -you-? Why? -I'm- not sweet on ya, that's for certain!"

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "Of course I wanted some pointers on fighting!" Caoimhe exclaims at once. "Who said I didn't? And who says you don't- like...me?" her voice falters, but a hardened gaze accompanies the uncertain words. "Well that's the point of liking someone- you can get to know them!" Caoimhe automatically retorts to Thomas, forgetting for a moment that Brev is right there. Then, remembering him, she quickly searches for something else to say. She points to Brev's necklace. "What sort of bone is that?" she asks him. She holds out her own. "Orc's fingerbone," she says proudly.

Brev's response to Thomas' words is another chuckle. "Well, that's a relief. Got no interest in boys that way." For just a moment, the smirk falls away and a muscle twitches in his cheek. He rubs at it irritably. "Oh, for Kiern's sake, I'm hardly going to make a pass at a girl her age. If it makes you feel better, you can stand chaperone. Who knows, you might even learn something. Next time it could be you besting some overweight logger in a brawl." He drops his hand from his face to give the Breelad a wink.

Caoimhe's hardened gaze is met with studied calm. "It's all right, lass, I won't take it personally. As you pointed out yourself, I'm good at annoying folk." The 'annoyance' is compounded by a smirk, then he shrugs, fingering the item at his neck. "Bear's tooth. But if you're expecting some tale of heroics, be disappointed. Got it from a friend." For a brief moment his features darken, and his cheek twitches again. "Some of us have more sense than to take on bears." No doubt he's itching to ask of Caoimhe's own 'talisman', but it doesn't show.

"A what?" A look of disgust crosses Thomas's face. "Why would you want to wear something like that? I hear they're filthy and dangerous! And why would a girl like you want to get tangled up in nasty, indecent stuff like that?" He shakes his head, clearly disapproving. "And no...no, I'm not needing to learn how to wrestle anyone...certainly not drunk farmers on the floor of the Pony," he huffs. "I'll leave you two to have your little romance." With a smirk, Thomas turns to walk back down the hill.

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "Well, s---." Caoimhe mutters a curse learned from Muirgheal's lap as she watches Thomas walk off, staring in that direction for a moment. "Jerk," she adds, with feeling. She walks a little closer to Brev, until she's beside him. Her hazel eyes, cold and fey, watch him as she says, "First, let's get a few things straight. One, I'm not too young to know the right things to do. Two, I am not a child, a lass, a baby, a little girl, or any of those words. I have already told you once, I am a -lady-. And third..." here, she finally manages a grim little smile, "I wear this," she holds up the bone again, "Because I took it from the first orc I killed. Just last year. I could...you know, tell you about it. If you wanted."

Brev watches Thomas' retreat with an arched eyebrow. "<Dunael>The type to jump to conclusions, isn't he?" he remarks aloud, the unknown tongue likely not improving his standing.

Then he returns his attention to Caoimhe. "Lets get a few things straight," he echoes, returning to the Common, his features an impassive mask. "First, I use the words I like, when I like. So in my books you're 'lass' unless you're a man in disguise. Bad enough to use this bloody speech for everyday without dropping in fancy foreign words. Second, who says I care how you came by yon trinket? Seen goblins before. Third," and now there is a glint in his eyes, "lets see what your reactions are like."

He is still holding the sling in his right hand and he lets the loose end flick out, whiplike, toward the girl's wrist, backstepping as he does; should the end of the sling cord wrap around flesh, it will be jerked.

[Caoimhe(#31517)] Brev's retorts get the girl worked up into a wild frenzy, her cheeks reddening, her eyes scowling, her lips pouting. "First," she snaps back, "How d'you know I'm not a man, unless you get a little closer to me? Or do I scare you so much that the thought of touching me makes you want to run?" She doesn't even seem embarassed this time, angry as she is. "<Dunael> Second, you can speak this language to me. Call me what you like as long as you know I'm no child. And last, just how many orcs have you k--" she never gets the rest of the word out. Her heated talking over Brev's own words doesn't do her any favors, as she's caught off-guard by the sudden sting of a cord hitting the tender part of her forearm; she jerks it back, nothing wrapping around her arm, though the whiplike string leaves a lovely red mark blooming. Her eyes narrow even further. "You want to fight -now?-" she asks, shaking her head in amazement as she reaches for a dagger at the small of her waist.

"Sure." Brev's lips stretch in a grin that has little warmth to it. "What you wanted, wasn't it?" He takes advantage of the pause to shift his sling to his left hand, freeing up the right to draw his own dagger. "Don't worry, I'll not cut you up - much. Your friend Thomas would have the townfolk hunt me down with pitchforks. Whereas you, he'd probably thank for ridding the world of an Outsider. That's life for you." He shrugs, without taking his assessing gaze off teh girl before him.

"I'm waiting."

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "I asked for you to hurt me? At no point did I do such a foolish thing. But you should be given warning, I take after my mother...except I'm even smarter." Caoimhe smiles, such a pretty gesture- or it would be, if it weren't for the two fingers, one on each hand, that she holds up at Brev in a rude display. She gets a better grip on her dagger then. "I'm not afraid of blood, or cuts, or gashes as need stitches." She rushes Brev with that knife, breathlessly exclaiming even as she does it, "No, they'd thank me for ridding the world of such a cold and unfeeling bastard. Does anyone 'sides me even like you?" Her chatter is accompanied by the motions of an arm dipping down to try and slip her knife across Brev's arm in return for the welt now on hers.

Brev, alas, has at least a decade's more experience in knife-fights, not to mention being annoyingly quick on his feet. When the knife comes down he is no longer there, having danced aside so that he is now facing Caoimhe's left shoulder. "Come, come. Can't help my parentage - any more than you can." The words are affable-sounding, as though this were no effort at all. He's always been a good actor.

"You're fast, lass, I'll grant you that," he goes on. "But you need to rein in your temper. Anger blinds you, bolsters offence at the expense of," his eyes flicker, though his tone does not change, "defence."

The end of the sling-cord flicks out in a diversionary arc as he darts forward again, dagger-blade pricking lightly toward the girl's ribcage on the left side.

[Caoimhe(#31517)] Caoimhe puts in a very good effort to keep up with him- after all, the girl is already a strong enough fighter to kill an orc! Yet with his years of experience, Brev is just that much quicker. "I'd rather be dancing with you," she says through gritted teeth as she attempts another flick of the wrist with her dagger, this time aiming a little higher on his arm. "And don't make me so angry, then," she retorts, yet it's clear that she's taking the advice to heart. "AH!" she cries out suddenly, as though his blade has found its mark and sliced into her ribs. She puts both hands over the spot at stands very still; but is she really hurt?

Dancing? Brev's brows arch a fraction, though he's too preoccupied to respond just yet. As he lunges forward, Caoimhe's dagger-blade connects for an instant, though it does not appear even to have parted the leather - at least, the man shows no sign of any reaction. "Good move," he murmurs approvingly, letting his feet carry him back even as he speaks.

The approval is short-lived; at Caoimhe's next action he shakes his head. "Kiern, no! Never waste both hands, no matter how bad it feels. If you're not dead yet, it can wait." He offers the girl a sardonic grin. "Sides, I know I didn't strike that hard." No further attack is forthcoming; he simply queries, mouth twitching, "Enough for now?"

[Caoimhe(#31517)] While Brev is a good actor, Coaimhe is a practiced actress too. She drops her hands from her middle, and drops the dagger in the same motion, leaving it to the dirt; she rushes Brev with her bare hands, being careless of the fact that he's still got weapons in his own hands. She throws herself against him, attempting to knock him off his feet, determined to have the final move of the match be one of hers. She says nothing, only lunges and pushes with the force of her full weight, which, admittedly, is rather slight.

The flicker in Brev's eyes suggests surprise; as Caoimhe moves, however, he moves also. His dagger-arm is held carefully away - for now - whilst his left arm comes across his body to bear the brunt of the charge, so that he staggers back but does not fall. "Not such a good idea," he murmurs softly, for the dagger-arm comes back round, its blade aiming to rest against the girl's side - a warning, no more.

[Caoimhe(#31517)] Caoimhe looks down at that dagger, blanching just slightly. "I understand," she murmurs, though she doesn't take a step back, letting the blade rest against the warm curve of her side. Yet in a determined voice once again, she demands, "Go to dinner with me tomorrow night. Brev. You owe me for the welts." Her hazel eyes calmly watch his face.

Brev's gaze is giving little away - but the muscle in his cheek has started twitching. In the end it is he who moves away, lifting the dagger aside and taking a step back. The blade is held loosely before him, as though he had forgotten to sheathe it. "Suppose I do at that," he concedes, voice even. "Though I'd have thought giving you something to put on them might be more appropriate. Trying to poison me, eh? Your mother taught you well." He winks, and if it is slightly forced then what of that. Then he shrugs. "Dinner it is. Just don't expect me to taste good."

Abruptly he turns on his heel and walks quickly into the gathering dusk, heading away from town. As he goes, he mutters softly one word: "Kiern!"

Date added: 2010-07-05 11:55:10    Hits: 101
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