Beau Rosier (illusoiree) wrote in theunboundic, @ 2018-02-25 03:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! time: december 31 - january 6, beau rosier, calvin llewellyn, morrigan kelly, tucker belmont |
Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when
Who: Beau Rosier and Tucker Belmont (And Calvin in the background)
What: A completely friendly fencing match Talk shit, get hit.
When: Friday Morning, January 5th
Where: Rosier Manor, Ballroom
Beau awoke Friday morning already exhausted and in a strange mood. He’d moved with a sort of chill politeness through breakfast but he was fairly certain that if he had to spend one more moment in the drawing room with so many people he was going to lose it. He’d tried to think of excuses to make. Gardening wouldn’t do, certainly not after yesterday’s encounter with Blair, he wasn’t in the mood to draw either so that was out too. As he mulled this over, he watched Viola’s column straight countenance with a kind of grim pride. She was doing very well with all of this, especially considering it had been forced upon her. What could he do to relieve some of that strain? His eyes traveled across finally to Tucker and that was when the idea caught him.
Fencing.
Tucker had made vague noises about it at their luncheon and honestly, he would relish the opportunity to stab him a few times with a foil. This was not to mention that it would get him out of the same room as Viola for at least an hour. He suggested a match in a mild, friendly tone and when all was said and done he left the room as soon as it was polite to, to collect the equipment. He was a little thinner than Tucker but they were of a height. There would be no issue in lending him a uniform and a blade.
The ballroom was chilly as it almost always was, locked away from the rest of the house. He could very nearly see his breath as he moved across the room, though that was almost a benefit considering how quickly things warmed up in these bouts. Weak sunlight lit the space, though it was still somewhat shadowy without the glow of the chandelier. One could call it a concession to Tucker’s delicate eyes that Beau did not request any brighter lights be brought it.
Dressed in the stark white of the uniform, they cut rather dramatic figures in the center of the room. Beau ran a hand through his dark hair before slipping his gloves on, waiting patiently for Tucker to select a foil from his collection. He took a breath. This would be fine. Just a friendly match, an assault as the instructors at his old salle used to call these referee-less bouts. It would be a way to, however briefly, try to get around just how awful Tucker was being, considering the hospitality he was receiving. Besides, the opportunity to fence with someone who knew what they were doing was a rare treat.
He ran a thumb absently over the grip of his blade, moving it to his right hand. “Everything suit?” He asked mildly, slowly rolling his wrist and arcing his blade through the air.