Who: Ciri and Daryl Dixon Where: one of the archery ranges When: The other afternoon Warnings: it's these two? Status: Completed GDoc
Ciri had gone exploring, and found her way to one of the archery setups this town had sprinkled around. She had brought her bow with her, she wasn't the best shot. She was much more efficient with the silver blade that hung over her back.
She had a crossbow in hand but it was a little less modern than anyone else's here. She was getting frustrated, that was easy to tell, by the way she breathed. The ashen haired woman was tense, not much annoyed her, but she'd never gained skill in archery. She was, much like her adopted father, a brute. She had more grace and finesse than he, but she was strength not really meant for ranged fighting.
Daryl had heard about the archery set ups and had gone out looking for one. Not that he felt he needed to practice with a target, he hadn't had that luxury for a long time. The dead made more effective targets anyway, because accuracy could mean the difference between life and death. But there were no walking dead in Madison Valley, at least not the kind Daryl knew and routinely slaughtered, so a bullseye target would have to do for now.
He came up short when he saw that someone was there. It took all of two seconds for him to recognise that it was Ciri, though, and once he saw that it was someone he knew, he went ahead and approached the target anyway just as she groaned.
"What's wrong?"
Ciri looked up. Then let out a sigh. "Oh just having one of those days." She waved a hand lazily at him. If he got a look at the targets, she'd really been having an off day.
She hadn't hit center yet. It was driving her mad. Geralt would have nailed each one while not even looking at them. It irked her she wasn't that good/
He glanced at the target. "You did that?" He asked, gesturing toward the bullseye. Not a single hit in the center. Not really even close to it. He might not be able to hit dead center without lining up his shot visually, but he could probably do better than she'd done blindfolded assuming he knew where the target was.
"Bite me." She snarled, "the one class I was the worst at was archery. I can swing this like there is no tomorrow." She gestured to the sword on her back. The thing was huge compared to her.
"But can't hit a stupid target."
"I reckon targets ain't your thing," Daryl said with a shrug. He slung his bow around and into position, feeding a bolt into it almost effortlessly. Bolts she had given him, because he'd arrived without a single one. He was glad at least that he had his bow, bolts were easy enough to make if he had to, but his bow would be hard to replace.
He took only a few seconds to eye the center of the target, and send the arrow flying right to it. It hit less than a centimeter from dead center. "Ain't nothing for me, but I ain't as skilled with a blade. Blades ain't my thing."
Ciri watched with her bow resting against one hip, her other hand on her other hip. Her nose wrinkled up as she watched him rather effortlessly hit the target dead on. Her lips twitched
"You're just like someone I know back home. Can do that with his eyes practically closed." She set the bow aside, drawing the gleaming silver broadsword, twirled the heavy thing easily before taking a sapling down with barely a look. Then offered it to him just so he could see how heavy it really was.
He set his bow down, propping it against a tree. It nearly fell over but he caught it and set it slightly to one side and leaning out a bit more. His bow was precious. back home, it kept him alive. He took damn good care of it.
With the bow set aside, he took the sword from her. He wasn't terribly surprised at the weight. he didn't care for swords, but he'd been around them. Michonne favored the sword, after all. And he'd thought she was pretty damned impressive with the blade, but Ciri was just as good, if not better, from what little he'd seen.
He gave it a test swing, careful to make sure Ciri was well out of range.
The thing was a good ten pounds or more, hefty and lined with runes and other markings. Compared to a katana, like Michonnes, it was unwieldy. Much heavier. But ciri handled it like it as a twig.
She leaned on a tree to watch him. "That's my life right there." She said lightly. "Took me years to be able to spend a day fighting with that without wanting to fall over and just die." She laughed softly.
"We started on crossbows late. I have a feeling they'll never be my strongest weapon.,"
"Ain't no big deal." Daryl handled the sword with slightly more grace than someone who had never held a weapon before might. The weight didn't phase him, at least not immediately. He had built up his arm strength and endurance with the bow. But he also wasn't going to throw the sword around long enough for fatigue to set in..
He held it back out to Ciri. "I learned how to use a bow when I was a kid. Then when the dead rose, I happened to come across one. Shooting to kill things that's already dead will train you faster than anything else." He was pretty sure that statement was accurate for a lot, if not most, people. .
But if you wanna learn, and improve, I reckon I could help you." Seemed the least he could do, after the kindness she'd shown him.
Ciri carefully wiped the sap she'd gotten on the blade off with a flick of her hand, the magic on the blade made it slide right off. She swing it up, back and resheathed it easily.
"That makes sense. I think in that case I'd prefer long range over being up close and personal. Actually, I know. We've had the dead rise back home, usually because of some angry necromancer trying to terrorize a town. Nothing major just a couple.but ugh no thanks."
She shuddered a bit. "Oh? Maybe you can help me be marginally better. That would be wonderful"
Daryl nodded. "Feel like I should start by saying I ain't never been no teacher, so..." He lifted his shoulders, gave them a noncommittal roll. "Don't know how patient I'll be. But I'm willing to try if you are." Because why not? If she wanted to learn, how bad could it be?
"Ain't no fun. The dead, I mean." Necromancers weren't even on his radar. He knew, vaguely what the term meant, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what happened in his world. "Reckon now's as good time as any to mention I'm infected, too. I die? I turn. In case that ever happens you might haveta put a bolt in my head. brain shot's the best way to kill a walker."
She shrugged. "Don't worry. I wouldn't hold it against you." She grinned a bit, ciri was a wild child but she took learning seriously. Even if she wasn't a stellar archery student, she'd try.
"Good thing I can't be infected." She mused before nodding. "Brain shots kill most things. Don't worry, bolt or sword, I'll make sure you don't come back to eat me." She gave him a lopsided grin.
"A'ight," he nodded. he accepted her response. Hopefully it wouldn't ever come to needing to put him down, but he knew it was a possibility. He'd had to kill friends, he'd put down the monster that was once his brother. He knew the harsh reality of it, but hoped it wouldn't ever be an issue in Madison.
"So, you want to start your lessons now?"
Ciri had put down enough people, and monsters, to know that someday it was a necessity and not to let emotions get to her doing it. She would, and could not, hesitate when it came to that kind of thing. Hesitation would get you killed, after all. She tucked a wayward strand of grey out of her eyes.
"Why not? We're here already, I suppose. It's a good enough day as any to get my ego stomped on a little." she teased, because she knew she was not going to be the stellar student she wanted to be. It was just how it went - she was so focused on becoming more that sometimes she got lost and fucked up.
"First thing you gotta do is relax. Find your zen, or whatever," he told her. "Ain't gonna do no good if you ain't relaxed." Which wasn't always easy, he knew that. But she had no reason to be tense. He wasn't going to be a hard ass drill sargent or anything of the sort.
"Let's see your stance, like you're gonna shoot." He took position, holding his bow to aim at the target in front of them.
Ciri left her sword on her back, she almost always fought with it on, so she had to learn to adjust with it there. She picked her bow back up and moved to take aim at the target. She was tense and her stance too square for a good target shot. She was better on the go, but the basics she failed at.
She took a breath and tried to force herself to relax, She was generally easy going but somethings made her tense. The tension eased out of her shoulders, but she was too square, to straight forward. Turning to the side just a little, a shift of her weight, would really help.
Daryl relaxed his bow and stepped back to take a good, hard, analytical look at her. His eyes scanned her form, taking in every detail. After a moment, he set his bow down on the ground so his hands were free, and he stepped in to press against Ciri and adjust her posture.
He didn't speak, didn't tell her what he was doing or why. He made careful and calculated adjustments to her stance, then stepped away to look her over as she stood with his corrections. "Now imagine the target is a monster that's trying to kill you. Hit it dead center to put it down."
She had been trained enough to know he wasn't doing anything to hurt her. And nothing that bordered on intimate, either, but she found herself smirking just a little anyway. She groaned at inner brain, she had hung around her adopted father too much, Geralt was someone women (and some men) flocked to. And he had influenced her enough to make her brain hit gutter mode in just seconds. She banished it with a smirk. She vowed to smack Geralt if she saw him again.
She let him adjust her to stand better before tilted her head a bit and decided imagining Geralt's face right now would be best. Though she forgot to let the breath out as she shot and it went a little wide. Though she had to pause and rub her nose, trying not to laugh at herself. "Sorry, stray thought wound into my brain." she smirked
"Stray thoughts like 'at'll get you killed." He had seen it happen. A split second was all it took. Thankfully they weren't in a life and death situation here. The target wasn't going to come to life, or unlife as Daryl was used to, and try to kill them.
"Try again," he said handing her a bolt. "Clear your mind. Focus on your stance, on your target." No one had ever given him that kind of advice, but it made sense to him.
Ciri licked her lips softly. " Oh, I know. Though I am pretty hard to kill." she shivered, what it would take to actually kill her would be a lot and it wouldn't be pleasant in the end. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She needed to focus not let thevoice in the back of her head mock her.
Or tease her.
She reloaded the crossbow, and took aim once more, adjusting so she was how he'd had her. She breathed in for a beat, then fired again. This was better, she didn't quite hit center but it was better.
Better." And he had a pretty good idea now what he had to work with, what he needed to get her to work on. Relaxing was the first thing. Crossbow wasn't the sort of weapon to use while tense. Too easy to get hurt.
"Try again, this time, drop your shoulders."
Ciri rolled her shoulders back, sighing softly. She was strung tighter than a bow and it showed. This place set her off too easily. It was one reason she rarely was social. "I'm awful." she conceded as she tried again, trying to drop her shoulders and let go of that tension. She hit again, near the last one. Her lips pursed into a frown. She really hated being bad at anything.
It wasn't a first and it wouldnt be the last though
"The bow ain't your best weapon's all," Daryl said. He wasn't bothered by her lack of skill. Give him a knife, he wasn't nearly as accurate or skilled as he was with his bow. Everyone had different strengths.
"You accept that, it takes the pressure off." He stepped in and pressed against her and shifted her stance a little bit.
Maybe I'll make it competent enough." In reality she wasn't half bad, of course she was no star. And she had frustrated her trainers for eons. She'd used it in battle just fine but stationary targets? Fail.
"No my best weapon is at my back." She shifted against him just a hair as he moved her again
"I'm aware." He was pressed against the blade strapped across her back. Thankfully it was sheathed, but if it weren't, he wouldn't be standing so close. "I ain't so good with the sword." He could handle it, he'd shown her that. But handling it and being an effective swordsman were two very different things.
"Michonne had her katana. She's damn deadly with that thing." He'd been more than a little impressed with her skill.
"Swordsmanship is a fine art. I'm grateful to have learned many styles over the years to make improvements" neither had moved yet. Her shoulder brushed his chest as she shifted to shiot.
"A katana is light. Good fast weapon they are." She nodded a little, shutting back a hair further. He was warm.
He didn't move at all, except to adjust his stance once she moved that slightest bit against him. He was hard, couldn't help it, it was involuntary. He didn't even try to hide it, though he was aware she likely felt it and knew exactly what it was pressed against her thigh. Oh well. He was a guy. He got hard ons.
"I can see the benefits. Still gonna prefer my bow." He was a sure shot with the bow. Blades required closer contact. He preferred to keep his distance whenever possible.
"You're a ranged fighter I'm not. though you're awfully close right now.," she let the bow rest against the ground then made sure it landed gently. Meant she pressed her backside against.v she plucked up a handful of dirt, tossing it into the air.
A few words then a mini doom around them. she grinned as she straightened up though the effort cost her . "Say what you wish, so that you wish no one can hear or see unless though you can walk right or out.," she stripped a layer. And shed the heavy armor shirt and tight leather pants. She had thin leggings and a tank to on underneath. Her scars were on display she had many of them.
He stood where he was, watching, amazed and convinced it wasn't real. How could it be, even though it felt very real. He watched her shed the layers. He made no move to shed his own, though he wanted to.
Daryl never took his shirt off around other people. His back looked like a demented road map. He hadn't earned those scars in battle, but in childhood, just trying to survive. He wasn't ashamed of them deformed skin, but he had learned early on that his scars made other people uncomfortable, so he kept them hidden.
"I..." he started, but fell short. he really didn't know what he wanted to say.
Ciri didn't strip down but it was enough to show she has her own map of scars. She might not die but she bled just the same.
She pulled a small dagger from her hip and twirled it on a finger. "This place is the weirdest place I've ever been." She caught it then sent it flipping into the target.
"It sure as shit ain't right." Daryl pulled the knife out of his boot. He went slightly right of the target. "Blade's just ain't my thing."
Ciri shook her head a bit and sighed. "Let's have some lunch, I promise you won't get poisoned, but it's been a long afternoon already." She sat down on the ground by her bow and pulled food out of the bag, she ate enough for multiples herself so there was plenty t o share. She didn't mind sharing with him.