open ⚜ praise and glory are two of my favorite things

[epeiste]

It's true that, even very recently in Porthos's life back in Paris, he's seen every horrible bit and piece of war. Porthos has battled entire armies, been captured, survived, barely escaped with his life. It's terrifying and thrilling, to say the least. And Porthos would have it no other way. He's a soldier, through and through. He's a very simple man, really. He dreams of things outside of his reality as many men and women do, but he doesn't try to step outside of his lane anymore, not since he's been a Musketeer. Being a soldier, a Musketeer, is where he belongs. He likes the thrill of it, the danger, the camaraderie between him and other soldiers like him.

When monsters, the likes of which he has never seen, start to flood Itinere, at first he's startled. Things of nightmares, things he could never have even thought to dream up, dangerous beasts with the intent to kill are somewhat daunting no matter what world or time period a man is from. Then, after the initial terror, he takes up arms. Because maybe this is what he's needed since arriving here, a real foe to fight.

This giant of a man can be found out and about by himself, of course, in full Musketeer armor and armed for battle. Maybe he's fighting some beast or rescuing some stranded citizen. But for the most part, he'll stick close to his comrade, Aramis. The two of them fight side-by-side like two dance partners, well accustomed to one another's mind, moves and counter-moves when in a sticky situation. While each of them are excellent soldiers in their own right, they're strongest when together, fighting as a unit. This, the terrors running through a usually peaceful city, is a much needed reminder of that. All for one and one for all.


ooc: let me know in the subject line if you want not just Porthos, but TWO Musketeers. That's right, TWO for the price of one. I'm sure we can make that happen.

Comments

[averygoodshot]

It's almost like old times; Aramis finds himself thinking.

To be a Musketeer is to not fear death. That is not the same as not wanting to die, but a Musketeer will run toward death if it means saving others, while maintaining one's honor.

Both Aramis and Porthos know this. They both come from a place where honor was hard to come by. They have earned their honor.

Here, where they are again fighting those things they don't understand, Aramis keeps his back to Porthos, fighting his flank as Porthos fights his. Despite any disagreements they may have had recently, this is what they are both best at doing.

Shifting his stance a little, Aramis takes a moment to catch his breath after they have downed a strange winged creature. "And here I thought we might get bored," he drawls.

[epeiste]

It's probably horrible to think it, but it feels good to be fighting again. The foe is something entirely different than what they're accustomed to. But Porthos has needed this for awhile, a direction in which to vent his own frustrations. These strange beasts now found throughout the city have thankfully given him that.

Porthos steps over to the downed creature and pokes at it with the toe of his boot. Then he crouches down to remove one of the talons from its odd, bird like foot. When available, he's been doing this, taking keepsakes from each kill.

"Maybe whoever's listening noticed our boredom and brought us this." It's a morbid thought at face value, the idea that they are responsible for this, that they brought this danger about by hoping for something to fill the void. But anyone who knows Porthos know that he means no harm by it. It's just a thought, nothing more and nothing less.

[averygoodshot]

And who knows? He might be right, for all they understand of this place.

Aramis wipes his sword on the thing to clean it before sheathing it again, and beginning to reload his pistol. "Shall we continue our patrol, then?" he asks, hooking his weapon to his belt. They have no horses, spooked as they are at the noise and the strange creatures, and must venture forth on foot.

Perhaps this time, lest they are immediately attacked, will give them a chance to talk, which they sorely need to do.

[epeiste]

"If that's what you call this." Porthos mutters with amusement. Patrol, battle, Armageddon, whatever you call it, it's much more eventful than their normal patrol. There's little chance of being bored or tiresome on a day like today. Porthos has to wonder if this is the norm and they have no way to really know that. He wouldn't mind the occasional monster to fight.

He slips the talon into a leather bag hanging at his hip and closes the flap before they start off down the street together. There's a pep in Porthos's step that hadn't been there before.

"Where do you think they're comin' from?" He'd seen one digging up from the ground, but the others... he has no idea. "What made them appear now?"

[averygoodshot]

"I have no idea," Aramis says, quite sincerely as he looks around. "Perhaps we shall find out? Or ... perhaps it is that it shall disappear just like things do and did in every other place we have been in since leaving Paris the first time. Perhaps we are mere players in another such game."

Isn't that good news? Ha. Sigh.

Thankfully, something appears around a corner. It's a big and burly thing with quite long teeth. Aramis is quick to reach for his pistol, giving Porthos a look. Are they ready? It hardly matters, since the thing charges at him.

[epeiste]

Really, it isn't that Porthos is complaining. He's not. He's just curious, always curious about the why's and how's of things. In this place there are doors in which people may enter and sometimes leave through. Do the monsters have doors? Did they just appear? And if so, then how? Magic? Porthos doesn't care for magic, or anything else that can't be explained. Any number of Aramis's suggestions could fit the bill.

"That would make us pieces in their games. Don't much care for that." He says thoughtfully.

Porthos draws his sword and nods at Aramis. When his friend gets a shot off to stun the beast, he charges and thrusts into the thick, meaty flesh of the monster's stomach, then he uses all his strength to shift his sword up while still impaled and cut up some if its insides. The creature makes a horrible sound and Porthos steps back, bringing his sword with him as blood and bits of innards starts gurgling out of his incision.

[averygoodshot]

When Porthos pulls back, Aramis charges forward from behind. How Porthos cut the thing in the front, he cuts from behind, along and between ribs. He twists his blade, too, kicking at the thing as he pulls his blade out, letting it stagger, or fall as it may.

He grins over that thing at Porthos. Magic or no, this does provide a nice rush to the blood, doesn't it?

[epeiste]

When the beast falls to the ground, Porthos looks up and meets Aramis's gaze. His heart is beating so hard that he can feel it thudding in his chest, in his ears, all the way down to his toes. Aramis is grinning at him and Porthos's lips curl into a similar grin. It's nice to feel alive. It's nice to be alive.

"Just like old times, eh? Different foe, same battle." He says, thinking of those old times as he tears his gaze away from Aramis and cleans his blade off with a handkerchief and reaching down to grab one of the fangs on this creature and rip it away, only to pocket it.

As he stands back up, he jokes. "Although there was some Spaniards as ugly as this thing." He pokes the 'thing' with the toe of his boot before continuing on their way down the street.

I'm okay with both or whatever!

[dorkify]

Gracie doesn't think herself a hero. She knows she's not a bad ass and she's got no illusions about her ability to do any saving of herself or anyone else. She'd been holed up in her apartment since things have started to go crazy. For the most part, she's been fine there. She's got plenty of books to read and TV shows on DVD, but Aslan has been going nuts. He knows something is wrong outside. He yowls at the windows, paces in front of the door and today, when she cracked open the window to let a little fresh air in, Aslan jumped out. He'd raced down the fire escape and Gracie had raced after him barefoot and hardly dressed for the journey chasing Aslan takes her on.

She's tracked him down to an alley and is tiptoeing through, the legs of her sweat pants shoved up to her knees to keep them from straggling in dirty water. She's meowing at him in an effort to get him to come out from behind whatever refuse he's taken refuge in. There's a clatter behind her and a wet, sticking noise. Gracie turns to find something out of a Goosebumps book. It's slimy and drippy with a mouth full of sharp teeth. She swallows hard, backing toward the pile of pallets that she suspects Aslan is behind, she winces as her foot is cut on something sharp. When the creature lunges out with a clawed hand, Gracie screams.

[averygoodshot]

The joke about the Spaniards makes Aramis laugh aloud. Porthos speaks the truth. With his own blood thrumming hard in his veins, he nudges his comrade's shoulder with his own as they continue down the street. "Which would you rather fight, though," he asks, if only to make conversation than anything else. "Such a beast as this? Or the Spanish?"

[epeiste]

Porthos is pleased to have made Aramis laugh. His friend's laughs have seemed few and far between as of late, and perhaps that's his fault, at least in part. It's nice to get a good reaction from him, in spite of the circumstances, no matter how such a reaction is earned. Mostly, because with that laugh comes a smile.

"Spanish." Porthos answers without hesitation. "The reward is greater for Paris." And maybe that, in part, is what makes Porthos such a good soldier. He loves Paris, and he'll do anything to protect his home. In that, he has rarely wavered.

"Though I'd wager me bets on you and me fightin' anything long as we fight side by side." He says, with a not so gentle, but good natured, knock to Aramis's shoulder with his knuckles.

Gracie > Porthos > Aramis

[epeiste]

Of course the Musketeers are out and about in a crisis such as this. They're well-trained soldiers, even if their time is a little off from most everyone else's. That doesn't mean their skill is off. The city of Itinere needs them. And just as they did in Paris, they will see the city through its darkest of days.

Imagine Porthos's surprise when they respond to a strange sound in an alleyway and he spies Mademoiselle Gracie there. He knows her well enough. They've forged the beginnings of a good friendship, Porthos and Gracie. This is why his heart leaps into his throat when the... strange creature leaps at her and she screams.

He looks wild-eyed to Aramis and nods before charging in at full speed. He gets between the creature and Gracie with Aramis flanking the other side. "Never fear Mademoiselle Gracie. We'll not let it hurt you." Hopefully. And of course, that he knows her name will let Aramis know that Porthos knows the lady.

[averygoodshot]

Even as he gets his balance back, Aramis grins bigger. No, he is very glad that things seem a little more balanced, a little less fraught. He's glad for all of that.

He gives Porthos's shoulder a squeeze. Perhaps after such an event, they can find peace?

"Really," he deadpans, "the creatures should be afraid of us."

[averygoodshot]

Far be it for the Musketeers to not let a chance go by to rescue a damsel in distress (though Aramis will be the first to admit that often the women need no defense; they are highly capable more often than not).

This thing is just as odd as other things they have faced and he has his pistol facing it with a knife in his other.

"Madamoiselle Gracie," he says with a wry smile, eyes not leaving the thing. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

I'm good with either!

[stillplaying]

Katniss prefers not to fight if she doesn't have to. But when she does, her preferred weapon will always be her bow. She'll never be proficient with knives the way Clove had been, or prefer something big and bulky to wield like Finnick's bow. Or wield a sword the way the Musketeers can. Her skill will always lie within archery and her bow will always be her first choice. Well, either that or she prefers not to get entangled in fight to start with.

There's just one problem that's never quite talked about when it comes to defending yourself with bow and arrows. Eventually, if the foe is hard to kill (as the griffin in front of her seems to be), you can run out of arrows.

Which is exactly the situation Katniss finds herself in now as she picks up stones along the edge of the forest and hurls them as hard as she can at the muttation.

[epeiste]

That the creatures should fear them gets a low chuckle from Porthos. He practically staggers down the street as they walk together. He probably shouldn't get too cocky. That's always when the worst happens, after all, when he's sure they're going to be okay. Fate is an ironic bastard, isn't it?

Maybe that's what prompts him to glance over to Aramis to ask. "Are we alright? You and me. We're good?"

If an ironic twist of fate occurs, if they come up against something that does him in, Porthos doesn't want to die being at odds with Aramis. It was often on his mind while on the battlefield while Aramis was off playing priest, that he would die with this great divide between himself and his best friend. He won't have that happen here.

[averygoodshot]

"I should be asking you," Aramis says, growing more somber as they walk. He's glad that Porthos has brought this up as it has been something between them for heavy while now. He still doesn't know why Porthos found him so distant or what he was thinking, but if he is feeling better, then Aramis is more than happy to put such thoughts behind them both and move on.

"We were never not all right," he tells his friend. "As long as you find me - us - well, then we are."

Katniss-Aramis-Porthos

[averygoodshot]

It's the rocks, quite honestly, that draw Aramis's attention; that sound of the stone hitting the earth is one that is familiar, no matter the time or place. The strange squawking noise that follows? Well, that's foreign and all the Musketeers need to do is exchange glances as they run.

It's Katniss who, of course, Aramis knows, and Porthos may well too. Aramis pulls his pistol and lines up his shot, giving Porthos time to do the same. Then he fires.

[epeiste]

There is a definitely a difference, different styles in fighting. The bow, along with the musket each of the Musketeers wear at their hips, are better as long range weapons when one is able to use them that way. The long sword, daggers and short swords that the Musketeers have are more up close and personal a weapon. Each has their merits and their pitfalls as far as pros and cons go. Aramis is wonderful with a musket. Porthos prefers the up close and personal of his blade or even hand-to-hand. Basically, he thrives in battle in the way a person probably shouldn't.

The pair has been out and about patrolling and helping out where they can. Truth be told, Porthos is thankful for the distraction of the beasts. If not for the fact that innocent beings are harmed in the process, he'd be like a kid in a candy store for this cure to his boredom of the last few weeks. Musketeers were never meant to lead sedentary, peaceful lives.

When Aramis draws his attention to the rocks and the one throwing them, he's only a step or two behind his comrade. Of course they want to help out. Porthos foregoes his pistol and unsheathes his long sword with a loud shiiink of metal while Aramis lines up his shot. As his friend aims, Porthos runs ahead, straight into the fray and just a bit to the side to allow Aramis his shot. The strange creature is already pinned with arrows sticking out of it. Aramis's shot lands and the beast screeches loudly. Porthos comes up from the rear, his sword raised as he rounds the beast and thrusts it into the griffon's neck with satisfying ease. He pulls down on the blade, slowly slicing through the meat of half the beast's neck.

[epeiste]

Was it really all on him? Porthos feels bad about that if it was. But he'd felt what he felt. There's no way around that. Sometimes he still feels it. Maybe he's just trying to get used to being here with just Aramis again. Maybe there's a lot to still reconcile himself with, things that happened back in those other places that they both seem to be avoiding.

He gives Aramis a small smile, somewhat apologetic in countenance and maybe a little confused as well. If Aramis's distance is all in his head, then they should be alright. Right? Right. Porthos knows he wants all to be right with them, no matter what has happened in the past.

"Do you remember... how we were in that other place?" He asks, his words slow and measured as he tries to find words that are difficult to voice. This is the closest he's come to talking about it out loud, about those memories of their... intimacy. "Together."

[averygoodshot]

Buying himself some time, Aramis adjusts his hat on his head. He nods, then. He does remember and he won't lie about it. He thinks about it quite a lot actually. With the Garrison just holding them (as far as he knows anyway), it seems they have a great deal of time to think, and those things come to me, how the beds are still pushed together, how -

"I do," he says, in case the nod didn't seem to be enough, or perhaps the flushing of his cheeks is a cue. Glancing over at Porthos, he asks, "do you?"

Which is a silly question seeing as Porthos brought it up.

[epeiste]

Aramis's reaction pleases Porthos because he was really and truly starting to think himself alone in those memories. And maybe those memories are a part of the reason he's felt such a distance from Aramis. It's hard to reconcile those past actions between the two of them with the way they've been since arriving here again, at least it has been from Porthos's end of things. He's less adept at hiding his true feelings about things than Aramis is, that much is true.

The question gets a smirk from Porthos and a shake of his head because it is a silly question and Porthos is the one who brought it up. Mostly, he's brought it up because of afore mentioned inability at hiding what he's really thinking and being weary of trying.

His friend is not making this conversation easy with so little input. However, maybe it shouldn't be easy. Porthos is quiet for a bit, trying to figure out where to go from here, what exactly he wants to say. He also has to remember the new memories of their time in Paris between that other place and now, years apart and then not.

"I loved you there, more than just a brother in arms. I... still feel that love, and the loss of it. Is that wrong? It seems as if it should be wrong." He says. In their time men can be burned at the stake for being with other men, after all. Or worse. And then there's this: "And you love the Queen. Right? More so than ever before."

[averygoodshot]

Even when they had had their argument, Aramis had brought up those times, and his uncertainty about how to deal with that history for all the reasons Porthos mentions. He stops, waiting for Porthos to stop and turn, before he speaks. "I do love the Queen and I always will. That doesn't mean anything beyond that. I was working with her to bring peace. Now that the King is dead ... " Would anything change? He doesn't know.

He swallows, then, though, clearing his throat. "But I too remember those times," he tells Porthos. "And - " he shakes his head a little in rue. "I miss them as well." He is a sinner, and a heathen, for saying that, but he does, too able to remember Porthos's hands on him, his body.

[epeiste]

That's just it. The King is dead. That opens a whole new door for Aramis, he thinks, should he and the Queen wish it so. But also, the Queen isn't here. Porthos isn't sure of his place, he supposes. He's feeling very displaced. Not just in Itinere. He can deal with Itinere. More so in where he stands with Aramis.

"Is it wrong to feel this way, Aramis?" He asks again. Because from his perspective, Aramis is better at judging issues like this than Porthos is even if Porthos is the one more open to such a relationship given his life on the streets.

[averygoodshot]

With a sigh, Aramis shrugs and shakes his head. The Bible says yes, of course.

But could God frown on love? And really, Aramis isn't one to take precedence; he has sinned a great deal. This is not news.

"I believe," he says quietly, "that it is only wrong should we decide it is so."

Which, he knows, isn't a very good answer, but it is his most honest answer. This place doesn't play by any rules, does it? Evidence: This current infestation of monsters.