last_adam | (no subject)

(no subject)

[After this.]

*It's still chilly out, but after Mordred left, Adam couldn't bring himself to come back in yet. He'd gone outside to practice, and he was going to finish his practice.

He's got years on you. Decades.

Advance, thrust, retreat, retreat, parry, advance.

You've barely started your own training.

Thrust, thrust, retreat, advance, thrust, retreat, parry.

He's a knight.

By the end of it, his feet ached, his muscles screamed, and he could feel every millimeter of fabric that scraped against the cut on his arm. But still, the embarrassment was there.

When he comes home, the fire's going, and he can see Alanna moving around in the bedroom, but it's the couch he ends up on. Sword propped up along the edge, he collapses, boneless, letting the heat of the fire wash over him.*

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*At first, Alanna doesn't notice he is there. She stretches her legs and arms, papers spread out on the bed as she thinks. Eventually, their bedroom starts to feel too small, and after a quick glance at Puff curled up on a pillow, she wanders into the sitting area. She watches Adam briefly, then wraps her arms around him from behind and kisses his cheek.*

Hullo.

*Her gaze drifts questioningly to the sword.*

*He turns his head back, looking up at her and grinning at her upside down face as he yawns.*

You go too easy on me.

Pardon?

*She blinks at him in surprise.*

When we practice. When you help me.

*Or maybe it's that they both get distracted, but either way the result is the same.*

*Running a hand over his hair, she straightens and eyes the sword.*

No... Why do you say that?

Because I went out there tonight and got my ass handed to me.

*And there's frustration in his voice, but it's not at Mordred.*

*She stands behind him, brow furrowed in confusion. It's not hard to figure out that he sparred with someone, but Alanna can't quite figure out what he means about going easy on him.

She doesn't, does she? After all, there's little she hates more when it comes to swordplay.*

Who?

Mordred.

*Alanna tenses, her hands clenching into fists.*

Oh?

He is a proven knight, Adam.

*She swallows, slowly circling around the couch.*

*Banging his head back on the couch.*

I know, I know. I know this. I'm just-

*What, exactly? Even he's not sure.*

*She paces back and forth before the fire, watching him.*

I don't though, do I? Go easy on you?

I don't mean to, Adam.

I don't know. I didn't think so. Maybe we-

Maybe I-

I don't know.

*Alanna turns and looks at Werewindle where it leans against the wall in a shadowed corner. She rarely glances over there, but when she does, the sword always seems to be looming menacingly.*

Perhaps-

It might be unconscious. I'm sorry, if I do. I should know better than that. I hate it when people go easy on me because I'm female.

But you're-

*He shrugs.*

Maybe I'm just learning too slowly.

Don't be an ass.

*Her tone is sharp, much more so than she intended, but once the words are out, she lifts her chin stubbornly.*

You are learning far faster than most people would in your spot. Use your head, Adam. I know you've a good brain. Use it.

*Her words - and her tone - snap him out of his brood, and he looks up at her, serious.*

It just feels like I'm moving so slowly.

*She shakes her head swiftly.*

I know it feels that way. You were caught of guard, and that makes you feel clumsy. Consider, however, that you've yet to seriously spar with anyone but me. Mordred was trained differently, I'm sure of it, as I've sparred with him myself. New techniques take getting used to, even for those of us with close to a liftetime's worth of experience.

Look at me, Adam. He moves, it's true, but you two are more evenly matched in height and reach.

*Adam nods reluctantly, but he can't deny what she's saying. An idea that had been forming for weeks takes solid hold in his mind, and he relaxes a bit, knowing that he's going to take some kind of action.*

I know.

Hmph.

*She eyes him, pacing a bit closer to the couch now. Finally she stops directly in front of him.*

Sometimes you have to be badly defeated to discover just how much you have to learn. And to rediscover your determination to do just that. It makes victory that much sweeter.

Victory against whom?

*It's sarcasm, but the bite isn't quite there anymore.*

S'pose I ought to do something about that.

*He tilts his head towards his arm.*

Did you really tell him to apply for security?

*Her eyes narrow.*

Anyone, but most importantly over your own doubts.

*Eyeing his arm, she scowls.*

You're hurt.

I didn't tell him, no. I suggested it.

*Rolling his eyes, he smiles.*

Not badly. Look, it's not even bleeding anymore.

*He leans forward to kiss her.*

That would be... interesting.

*She kisses him, but is soon back to scowling, fingers carefully edging around the cut.*

Still.

*She shrugs.* I suppose. It would depend on the interview, naturally.

Of course. He-

I-

*Adam makes a face, as though it pains him to say it.*

I'd trust him, to watch your back.

*And then he really makes a face, when she pokes too hard at the cut.*

Hey.

Will you let me fix it?

*Alanna swallows, slowly pushing his sleeve aside.*

I thought you didn't get along. Mordred said it would give you a heart attack.

If you must.

*But it's a warm feeling that fills him at her concern.*

We don't, really. And it didn't give me a heart attack. Just-

maybe a bit of a palpitation.

Aye, I must.

*She frowns, gripping his hand and resting her other over his wound. Closing her eyes, she whispers a healing spell and struggles not to get distracted by other thoughts.*

You've never really let me do this before, you know.

*It's an odd sort of connection as her magic flows out of her to him, the air around their hands glowing with a faint violet light. Biting her lip, she nods and slowly lets go.*

So mote it be.

*Investigating his arm, she sighs.*

We had Anakin Skywalker on staff at one point. I can't imagine Mordred would be any more odd.

Not to other people, no.

*He closes his eyes as she works, and opens them again to look into hers with a smile.*

I know.

*She lifts her head and smiles a bit.*

Thank you.

*Sighing, she wraps her arms around him and rests her forehead on his shoulder.*

Of course, maybe someone should tell Mordred that leaving such marks on you doesn't exactly endear him to me.

*She giggles.*

It was just a sparring session. Such things happen.

*There's a whisper, there, though, a hint of something left unsaid.*

You will get better, Adam. For now just be pleased with how far you have come. Consider that in time, perhaps you'll leave marks of your own.

*She looks up at him.*

Right?

Right.

*Alanna smiles and kisses him.*

Good. I love you. Now, try to relax?

Yes, dear.

*His face shows the affection as he says it, and he holds her close, leaning into her.*

*She lightly swats the back of his head.*

Careful. Now that I'm not taking it easy on you, you'd best be nice.

*Adam laughs, and kisses her, a twinkle in his eye.*

Would you have preferred yes ma'am?

Sir.

*She grins impishly.*

Yes, Sir.

*Two can play at that game.*

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Permission requested to go to bed, sir. With my partner, sir.

*archly* Permission granted.

*She stands, offering him her hand.*

Assuming you don't fuss at said partner for her freezing feet.

*He grins as he stands and wraps his arms around her waist as he walks her backwards to the bedroom.*

I make no promises, sir.

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