Open | Action | You can take the boy out of the Garrison ....

[averygoodshot]

It was one of those mornings when Aramis woke up inhaling smoke and hearing the sound of the Garrison being blown up, even as they were mourning the death of the man all the Musketeers considered their father.

Even as he flung himself to wakefulness, lungs heaving for breath, heart pounding raucously against his chest, Aramis realized that that wasn't the case. That here he and Porthos were in this strange place with a safe and sound Garrison.

It did make the idea of going back to sleep impossible.

Clad in his trousers and a loose tunic, his pistol and arquebus on the table in the courtyard of his home, first, he takes up his sword. He doesn't want to wake Porthos by firing his gun, even if that is what he's best at. Next to his pistols, too, is a little golden ball that he doesn't know nor understand. He hasn't fussed too much with it, as he knows that "gifts" from this place do not come without a price.

So, should anyone pass by the strangely rustic building in the middle of Itinere and peer into the entryway, they will see a man fencing a wooden post into submission. He thinks about Paris, his home. He thinks about Porthos, about their relationship now and what it had been here before. He thinks of friends here and there. He thinks too much, even about that golden ball on the table. If only he could keep himself from thinking.

Comments

[epeiste]

It's safe to say that Porthos, when allowed to feel comfortable enough to truly sleep, can sleep like a hibernating bear. It would take more than an act of Aramis's almighty God to wake him up before he's well and truly ready to wake up in these moments. Lately, as he and Aramis have settled back into this place after something of a leave of absence, he's been able to sleep the best kind of sleep. Such a luxury that is.

Needless to say, he does not wake up when Aramis sneaks out to train, not for a good while, not until he's ready to wake up. Then he makes his way down to take a shower, another luxury that this place has provided. He dresses in trousers and tunic, then heads back upstairs to get back into his doublet. He's not comfortable enough here to go without much of his uniform just yet.

When he makes it back downstairs and sees Aramis still sparring, he stands back and watches for a good while. There has been much on his mind as well. However, he pushes it to the back of his mind as often as he can for survival purposes. A man must be able to compartmentalize when things get confusing or unnerving. Porthos is getting very good at this.

"Curious whether you're lettin' out some aggression or simply tryin' to keep up your skill." He finally says, heading for the kitchen to grab some food.

[averygoodshot]

"Both, I suppose," Aramis answers as he arms away sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair back from his eyes. As Porthos is in the kitchens, he pours some water - so clean and clear here - into a glass to down it.

When his friend reappears, by habit or instinct, Aramis looks him over; he looks good - no hollows under his eyes, no frown that often creases his forehead. "You slept well, I take it?"

[thefeckingmega]

This red head is perched up in the rafters over by the Captain's quarters. Honestly, Dani's been able to maintain a hidey hole (one of many that are scattered all over the city) here at the Garrison without much notice. Two guys living in this huge place and Dani being able to move as fast as she does? It's almost too easy to avoid their notice, and also to eavesdrop here and there so that she knows a little bit about each of them.

Now though, she watches the one called Aramis as he attacks a dummy. He's really good with a sword. So is Dani. A part of her itches to get down there and spar with him. Another part of her wants to remain hidden because she doesn't want them to catch on that they have a house guest, and have for awhile now.

Eventually though, her need to show off gets the best of her. She uses the slip stream to get out to the front of the Garrison faster than the eyes can see. She walks right through the front gate, sauntering in that way that Dani has, into the yard in plain view of Aramis as if she just came in off the street.

"Hey. What's that dummy ever done to you?" She teases him, her freckled face full of playfulness and mischief.

[averygoodshot]

Turning toward the voice, Aramis smiles at the young lady he's chatted with on more than one occasion. "A great affront, I assure you." He leans on his sword, the point buried in the still-damp earth, using this opportunity to wipe away the sweat from his forehead. "Hello, madamoiselle. How are you this morning?" He gestures toward the table, should she like to sit. "Are you well?"

[divaricate]

Wanda happens to be out for a walk around Itinere at the moment, and though she's been here for a couple of weeks, -ish (give or take a few days), she's not strayed far from the Avengers Facility that was here when she arrived. However, she's trying to get out more, so here she is.

She pauses when she catches sight of a man in the entryway of this building who obviously has exceptional swordsmanship with his fencing at the wooden post. She watches for several moments, and at a moment when he pauses, she speaks up, hopefully not startling him. Her accent sounds Eastern/Southern European-ish, easily mistaken for vaguely Serbian.

"That's an impressive skill. Were you self-taught?" In her own abilities (her abilities of telepathy, mental manipulation, and telekinesis) she's self taught, so she's always curious as to how others have mastered their respective skills.

[averygoodshot]

Well, hello, beautiful lady. Never let it be said that Aramis doesn't appreciate and take the time to appreciate a beautiful woman. It's instinctive for him more than anything else. He may not even be aware of how he stands differently, brushing the sweaty strands of hair back from his face. "I was taught at a young age," he tells her. When his father had finally taken him from the brothel, he had taught Aramis the basics, then he had learned more when he had become a Musketeer. "Hello, madamoiselle. I don't believe we've met." He even bows a bit at the waist, hand on a hip. "Aramis of the King's Musketeers in France, year of our Lord, 1642."

[epeiste]

That food that Porthos went after, it turns out to be a freshly opened bottle of wine. Really, he'd gone into the kitchen with the best intentions to get some bread at least, maybe some cheese and fruit, but it turns out that he's somewhat predictable and when he saw the wine, he just couldn't resist. So, wine it is. There's fruit in wine though, right? Right. So it works out.

He's just taken a healthy swallow of the wine, straight from the bottle, when he steps back out to the main yard. He sees the way Aramis looks him over and his lips pull into a small grin. Sometimes there are moments that pass between the two of them when Porthos has to remind himself that, for whatever reason, maybe many reasons, some of which they can't even wade through just yet, things are different for them now. Will they ever truly come back together? Who knows. Right now this is the way things are. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Good sleep, yeah." Which he feels as if he should be guilty over, given the state of their home, but he isn't. He's been off fighting wars for years. Maybe he deserves just the tiniest bit of sleep before the guilt takes over. Aramis looks good too, of course. Aramis always looks good. But it's easy to see that things are going on beneath the surface. "I'm guessin' you couldn't sleep. Somethin' on your mind?"

[averygoodshot]

Caught. Aramis has the grace to blush just a bit, though his cheeks were flushed from his exertion.

That's his story and he's sticking to it.

"Just a bad dream," he answers, sitting on the table, booted feet up on a bench. He won't go into detail about that unless Porthos asks. He doesn't want to trigger any bad thoughts for his friend if he can avoid it.

Comfort comes in all forms, doesn't it? being touched, being talked to are just a few ways. Porthos's presence is very comforting, too; his sheer mass and the character behind it.

"It too will pass," he says, dismissing it. "Would you like some food?" he asks, gesturing back toward the kitchens. "I can stoke the fire and put something on."

[thefeckingmega]

That smile is charming as feck, which really isn't really fair when you think about it. Dani's known some men who can use that as a weapon just as surely as a person can use a sword. They'll grin at you and pull you into their web and then spring the inevitable 'catch' before you know which way is left or right. She has no idea what sort Aramis is, really. But she decides to beam a bright smile right back at him, more exuberant and energetic than charming.

"I'm sure it's a horrible dummy, needs destroyin'." Dani says, pushing up to sit on the table top rather than the bench seat next to it. Her sneakered feet go to the bench seat. In this way, her long leather coat comes open to show the sword at one him and the spear at the other. Dani is always well armed, although the spear is new. "Or you could spar with somethin' that'd fight back." There's a glint in Dani's eyes at the suggestion.

Also, she really likes being called mademoiselle.

"I'm alright. Gettin' from day to day and really if you're me that's an accomplishment. Each new day's a feckin' gift, am I right?" She smiles at Aramis. Dani really is a glass is half full kind of girl, despite all the shite that's been thrown her way in her lifetime. She's almost always looking on the bright side, much to the chagrin of some who have met and know her.

[averygoodshot]

Aramis is good and kind and honorable, even if at times, he may not make the best decisions. Just ask Porthos (who is a terrible judge of character, but not about Aramis).

When Dani sits and Aramis sees the sword, his expression doesn't change. Had they talked of her ability to swordfight? He doesn't recall it.

Her offer to spar, though, is not dismissed out of hand. Aramis is too canny for that and he knows that women like Constance and Sylvie can fight quite handily.

"Do you often risk death on a daily basis, madamoiselle?" he asks, taking a few steps closer, still smiling. For every day, especially for a Musketeer is a gift. He knows that as surely as he knows his name.

[epeiste]

Porthos knows Aramis too well for most things to slip by him, especially when his friend is upset or disturbed by something. Of course, Aramis still has the ability to surprise him on rare occasion. There are things Aramis does that make Porthos shake his head. But for the most part, he knows his closest friend sometimes better than Aramis knows himself.

Bad dreams happen to the both of them. That much Porthos can understand. So he nods and doesn't push just yet to try to coax it out of Aramis. For now, he decides that if Aramis wishes to let him in on it then he will.

"Nah. This is enough for me." Wine, a definite comfort for Porthos. It has been that for some time. Also, he doesn't want Aramis waiting on him or putting himself out or anything. Aramis seems to have enough on his mind to add taking care of Porthos to the list.

He stands in front of Aramis and gently taps his friend's knee with his fingertips and smiles. "When I have bad dreams I make sure to try to fill me mind with somethin' good. Like remember that time we came upon a Spanish regiment bathin' in a stream and we stole their uniforms?"

[thefeckingmega]

Dani hasn't talked about her skills with Aramis. Not because she wouldn't, but it just hasn't come up... which, for Dani, is weird. She really likes telling people how awesome she is, even when, on the inside, she doesn't feel quite so awesome as she makes herself out to be. In many ways, Dani O'Malley is all bluster. Also, in many ways, she's exactly what's advertised on the box.

"Oh! Everyday back home! Somebody's gotta be the hero and that somebody is me!" Dani proclaims. And while she isn't the only hero, Mac is one too, so are Barrons and Ryodan even though they're very anti-hero, she's not lying when she says she's in mortal danger every day in her world. The list of people who want her dead is long and getting longer by the day.

Truthfully, she kind of misses it. In her world, Dani's important. Her life means something. Here...

Well, her features briefly fall and she shakes her head. "Here it ain't always so necessary to put myself out there. Feck, it can be downright boring! How'd you get so good with a sword?"

[averygoodshot]

That is a good memory. It makes Aramis chuckle, remembering how the Spaniards had run like chickens who had lost their heads looking for their clothes.

He nods, holding his cup in his hands. That's good advice, too.

(For the record, Aramis takes great pride in taking care of others, whether it be the Musketeers or the children at the monastery.)

Getting up, he fetches some bread and cheese for himself, though it is set between them both if Porthos changes his mind.

"Any chance I can talk you into sparring?" he asks, gesturing to the open courtyard.

[averygoodshot]

"A good deal of practice," Aramis tells her, not bothering to bring up that he's better with the pistol than the sword. After all, Athos isn't here and Porthos is better at hand-to-hand combat.

"But you are bored?" he asks, amused at that idea. Not that he hasn't been a victim of boredom a time or two. It's more that here, he is more lost than bored. He has nothing to rely on, his friendship with Porthos aside (but even that seems strange in this place). "Do you wish to spar, madamoiselle?"

[epeiste]

It's like he scared him away, to be honest. Aramis sits, Porthos gets close and touches him, Aramis is immediately up and running away without a word. Porthos steps back and waits for him to come back, feeling a little stupid for having reached out to touch him, for having recalled a memory of things from back then, from before, from a somewhat simpler time.

When Arsmis returns with food, Porthos doesn't sit down. He lets Aramis eat and continues to drink his wine from the bottle. Wine has fruit in it. Yep. They're both coping in their own ways, it seems.

He looks over to the courtyard, usually familiar and bustling with life. Porthos hasn't spent too much time there for all of its emptiness.

He decides to feign amusement and sends Aramis a grin. "If you think you need the practice." He teases.

[stillplaying]

The high from a few days prior has since disappeared, leaving Katniss with a reminder of how easily she could have been that girl if life had thrown a different set of circumstances at her. The day that had followed that high had reminded her of how horrible her life had actually been. But she didn't have to go through it alone. No matter how hard Katniss had tried, she never really succeeded in isolating herself within Itinere. Sometime during Prim's disappearance, she stopped trying so hard.

Even though she had only talked with the man through the devices, she remembers him. She remembers everyone who had helped her then. Prim had disappeared because she had been sent back to Panem and all the searching possible wouldn't have resulted in finding her sister. But they had tried and because they had, she owes them. That appreciation won't go away anytime soon.

So when she walks by and sees him fencing against a post, Katniss stops to watch. She can't exactly figure out if Aramis practicing or taking out his frustration against the piece of wood. Maybe both? Either way, it's clear that he's had experience with this weapon. A lot of experience. At some point when Aramis pauses in his workout, she takes the opportunity to send an arrow flying into the heart of the post. "Much more effective," she calls out, smirking a little. "It only takes one."

[thefeckingmega]

"Me too. Somebody's gotta kill the Unseelie before they feckin' kill us all off. I mean, they already got most people. Those that're left gotta fight!" Dani pats her sword, petting it like it's precious, which it is. Dani is never, ever, ever without her sword. "Lucky me, I got one of two weapons that'll really do 'em in. Iron'll slow 'em down but... this sword, it's deadly to 'em."

Oh, she'll just nod emphatically when he asks her if she's bored. Holy freakin' feck is she bored. There's nothing to fight here. No one needs her to be the hero. And the few times she'd tried, it'd been a mistake, her mistake for making assumptions she shouldn't have.

"Feck yeah, I wanna spar! I'm not too shabby although I'm only used to fightin' Unseelie and they don't usually got swords to fight back with... only some of 'em do." No, Unseelie have powers that can do strange things to humans while slowly or not so slowly draining them of their life force.

Dani slides off of the table and brandishes the large sword that most girls her size would have trouble lifting. Not Dani. She lifts it like it's a feather. "She's a beaut, ain't she?"

[divaricate]

"Is it as heavy as it looks? I ... fight a bit differently than that." As in, she has no real physical fighting or weapon fighting skills to speak of.

"We have not met, no." She replies with a smile, even though she hasn't been in a very smile-y mood as of late. "I've only been here two weeks or so, but have been the elusive type until maybe two days ago." It at least explains why she hasn't been seen much if at all by people here. "I'm Wanda Maximoff." She introduces herself, but adds more to that as he had, though her titles are not nearly as fancy (the only title she could claim is 'Avenger' and she's pretty sure that doesn't count any more considering back home she's considered an international fugitive). "I'm from a country called Sokovia, and the year twenty-sixteen." Well, she was last living in America, but she's neither American by naturalization or by birth, so it doesn't count as being where she's from. "It's nice to meet you."

[averygoodshot]

It's not hard to imagine how Aramis jumps at the sudden appearance of arrows. He staggers back, wide eyes, turning to see who sent the arrow flying and who has spoken.

Clearly, she is very skilled with the bow. "Unless it doesn't go deep enough," he replies, working to catch his breath. "I hope you aren't planning to shoot one of those into me, madamoiselle."

[averygoodshot]

If Aramis were to let himself want what it is that they had here before, it would indeed open up a great many issues to be dealt with. Perhaps it is that they are not yet ready. Perhaps Porthos doesn't even want that.

Perhaps Aramis is afraid to ask.

He knows Porthos well enough to know that something, big or small, just went wrong between them, though, and he cannot fix it, because he's not 100% sure what it is.

So, he smiles too. "Remember how you and Athos put me through my rounds when I first returned to the regiment? I can always use the practice, I suppose. As can you," he adds, because hes not alone in that, is he?

[averygoodshot]

That word: Unseelie: that's one Aramis isn't familiar with and something tells him that he doesn't necessarily need to know what it is. (or perhaps it is that he doesn't want to know.)

"It is a beautiful sword," he notes, able, too, to note that she lifts it easily. "Indeed. It is a she, then?"

He hasn't named his sword, and won't, but perhaps he does harbor a name for his pistol. It's beautiful, too.

As he talks to her, he lifts his own sword and circles her, smiling.

[averygoodshot]

"It is a pleasure meeting you," Aramis says with a warm smile. No, it doesn't startle him to meet someone from 2016. After all, he and Porthos are the fish out of water here, not the other way around. Most of where he has been has had people from other places and times. "This?" he lifts his sword, twirling his wrist a bit so that the metal catches the light. "It is not terribly heavy. Would you like to try it?" he holds it out, grip toward her. "How is it that you fight?" he asks as an addendum, curious.

[epeiste]

The reminder of Aramis's return to the regiment is also a reminder of his departure. As always, an unease settles in Porthos's stomach at the thought of it. He'd like to think he's fully moved past it, and in many ways, he truly has. But every time he really allows himself to think about it, he gets angry and hurt all over again. Perhaps it is best that Aramis fled his attempt at closeness. And perhaps Porthos shouldn't be surprised by it.

Porthos can always use the practice, he supposes. Although in this moment he wishes there were someone else to spar with. Between just he and Aramis being here, there is no buffer between the two of them when they need it. Like right now. They're forced to look one another in the eye and confront.

Sparring. Yes, they can confront sparring.

"Yeah, guess I can." Another healthy pull of wine from the bottle and he sets the bottle on the table. After removing his doublet, he walks across the yard and picks out a sword, swinging it a bit to test its weight while Aramis finishes his meal. He lobs a few practice swings at the dummy Aramis had been working with.

[thefeckingmega]

Just think monsters, Aramis. Monsters that want to take Earth for themselves and have already killed most of the human population to do it. Dani's world is kind of horrible. But Dani was made for it. She was made to fight and survive. So at least she has that working in her favor, thank whoever thought to make her a sidhe-seer. And not just any sidhe-seer, but one of the most powerful.

"Oh yeah. It's a she I think. It's the sword of light, one of only two Fae relics that can kill anything!" Dani's very proud of her sword, okay? She removes her leather coat and pats the spear sheathed at her other hip "And this belongs to Mac. It's the other weapon that can kill Unseelie. It's super old, as in it's the spear of Longinus, the spear that pierced Jesus's side when he was, ya know."

She looks up to Aramis then, leaving the spear at her hip and lifting her sword. "Feck if I know all that religious mumbo jumbo. But that's pretty feckin' old, right?"

[averygoodshot]

Even if it is the time at the monastery or how they deal with a relationship that even in memory seems more heated and intimate than dirty, there is a distance that exists between Aramis and Porthos now and he doesn't like that. It feels like a part of him isn't entirely complete.

He has Porthos's back, doesn't he? Surely, Porthos knows that.

Aramis feels a tug at his heart and he rubs at it absently, even as he picks up his sword and twirls it once, like d'Artagnan would, before he starts to walk in a circle, countering Porthos. He smiles a little, perhaps to coax a true smile from his friend? Perhaps another reason; he doesn't know.

Without warning, he lunges forward, his free hand up as if holding another blade, even if he doesn't.