Penelope Featherington Rutherford (featherington) wrote in the100, @ 2015-10-28 22:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, kallian tabris, penelope featherington |
Who: Kallian Tabris and Penelope Featherington
When: Wednesday afternoon
Where: The Gym
What: Penelope takes her first true step towards leveling up her Rogue self.
Rating: Low. Excessive mention of knives, though.
Over the course of the past month or two, Penelope had become accustomed to the heft and weight of knives in her hands. Naturally, this happened with Cullen’s assistance, and Penelope liked to think that she had some skill in handling her knives. Some skill. Moreover, she enjoyed herself; enjoyed exploring a craft that she had always thought Not For Her, because she was a lady. She started to become familiar with the way her body moved, and its limits, and she smiled whenever Cullen remarked that he’d never seen her step or turn in quite such a way before. Soon, he had claimed that he had nothing more to teach her, and that while he was happy to spar with her she would be better off acquiring a new teacher. If she wished, of course. Penelope wished. She was enamored with the idea of being able to defend herself in a purely physical way that lay completely outside the world of words that she had once used to shield herself. She observed a knife class or two before asking Kallian, who had been Cullen’s suggestion. Kalli had agreed, and here they were, circling around each other as Kallian tested her to see how well Cullen had taught her, how much Penelope had absorbed. She was, she thought, holding her own quite well against an opponent who was a master in her chosen area of combat, and had already observed enough to appropriate a step and thrust that Kalli had used to good effect on her earlier. It was deflected easily, but it was a move she’d never used before. And it didn’t feel awkward. Neither did Penelope. Kallian had been putting Penelope through her paces for the last three quarters of an hour, getting a sense of her strengths and weaknesses and what techniques she’d learned so far. As Warden-Commander, she’d done that plenty of times with recruits who were about to take the Joining or who just recently had. She hadn’t gotten to do that in a long time, with her duties pulling her in other directions; it was fun to have someone who needed training again. So far, Kallian was pleased with what she saw; Cullen had been right to send Penelope on to her. “Oh, beautifully done!” Kallian said with a delighted laugh. Penelope had hit the dual-strike exactly right, just by watching; more proof that she actually did have some talent for this. “Wonderful! Here, hold, hold--” Kallian stepped back and held her daggers up in a purely defensive stance while she let Penelope catch up with the instruction to stop, and then lowered them. “That was good, very good. Cullen was right to send you on to me--you’ve quite mastered what even the best of Templars could teach you.” A shy grin stretched across Penelope’s face as she dipped her head briefly to wipe away some of the perspiration that had gathered on her forehead. It had taken her a moment to shift her concentration to attend to her instructor’s word, but once they had registered, a pleased blush joined her smile. “You truly think so?” Penelope paused, shook her head minutely, and spoke again. “I - I mean, thank you. What was it that I just did?” More and more she found that if done right, fighting was nothing more than a series of beats, normally set to a fast tempo. The best way to learn to play the notes was, of course, practice and by starting slow. Years and years of finger exercises had resulted in Penelope’s skill at the piano; the same would hold true in learning to fight. “A dual strike?” Kallian said. “I learned nearly everything I know about fighting in the gutter or in the field, so I don’t always know the proper names for things. It’s always, well, Duncan called it this or Evie No-Shoes called it that or the Carta calls it an unpronounceable dwarven thing...and so on.” The elf shrugged and gave Penelope a cheerful smile. “But it doesn’t much matter what it’s called as long as you can use it to stab somebody before they can stab you. So...practice that one between now and tomorrow, and if that’s working well during tomorrow’s practice, then we’ll add in what Zevran liked to call the Sweep.” “No, it doesn’t matter, does it?” Penelope took a few more moments to catch her breath. “I won’t be called upon to duel for my honor -- and even if I were, I’d be able to defend it myself. Or I will.” She gestured towards Kallian, adjusting her grip on her knives. “Will you show me again? I felt as if I were just this side of losing my footing when I did it.” Penelope watched intently, asking for a demonstration one more time before attempting it against Kallian again. The second time, her feet tangled themselves and she fell, curling in on herself to absorb the blow and pushing herself to her feet only a moment after. “How old were you when you learned to fight? If that’s not too personal, I mean.” “Oh, no, it’s all right,” Kallian replied, setting her stance to run Penelope through the move again. “My mother started teaching me when I was...oh, Maker, I’m not even sure exactly how old. Young, anyway. Eight or nine, perhaps?” She knew it sounded young to be handing a child a sharp thing, so she tried to explain a bit. Her mother was long dead, but Kallian still didn’t want anyone thinking badly of her parenting. “Where we lived, in the Alienage...it wasn’t always safe. You either learn to fight, or you learn to be afraid, and Mother thought I’d be better off fighting. Lucky thing, too, or I’d be dead several times over now.” “I believe that some men outfitted their sons with rapiers or guns as soon as they were old enough to hold them, so I do not begrudge your mother her desire to ensure her daughter’s safety by putting knives in her hands,” Penelope answered, checking her balance before launching into the move again. She grunted, holding her position until Kallian let her go. “In truth, I hold your mother in much higher regard than I do the fathers of the fools who used their talents to avenge imagined slights against their honor, or to defend their sisters’ or wives’ honor when they would have been better left attending them in person.” She flexed her hand, giving a rueful smile. “The men of my home were quite foolish, you see.” “It seems to be something nobles everywhere have in common,” Kallian replied, and then added a grin. “Present company excepted, of course. And a few others. Obviously I’m rather fond of the King of Ferelden, too--and the queen, in a decidedly more platonic fashion.” Back home, a certain amount of discretion about Kallian and Alistair’s relationship was required. Here, Kallian had decided she rather liked not having to lie or be secretive. There were undoubtedly people who disapproved, but Kallian had also long since given up worrying about much of anyone’s approval. If they didn’t care to understand the complications that occurred when affairs of state and affairs of the heart interacted, well, they could all go hang. “Alistair seems very kind and good-humored. Cullen respects him greatly,” Penelope told her. “I don’t know him well enough to say otherwise. You know, at home, your relationship would be quite scandalous? But it doesn’t matter. You make one another happy, and I’ve always thought that more important than matches made to fill one’s husband’s coffers.” Carefully, Penelope examined the blades of her knives; soon she would need to ask one of the blacksmiths to sharpen them. “Thank you for doing this, Kallian. I never thought I would learn to fight in any way than hidden behind words, and this may be far more satisfying.” “There’s nothing in the world like knowing that whatever comes at you, you’ll be able to take it,” Kallian replied with a smile. She hadn’t always had that kind of confidence, and it had come at a high price, but she was proud of it just the same. “As for myself and Alistair…” Kallian’s smile matched Penelope’s then, a touch of wry humor behind it. “Our relationship would be considered rather scandalous in our home, too, which is why we’re discreet about it.” She sheathed her weapons as she continued to explain, because she liked Penelope and found her worthy of the story. “Alistair and Anora had equally strong claims to the throne, and his marrying her kept our country out of another civil war. That was more important at the time than how either of them felt about each other, or how I feel. So they were wed, and Alistair and I continued on quietly together, and Anora has had her own discreet relationships, which sadly have not been so successful as ours has. It’s trying sometimes, though, to be desperately in love and have that not matter at all, and to have to lie about it all the time, so I’ve been perfectly straightforward about it here. It’s not as if it’s going to bring down any nations in this land, after all.” Penelope slipped a knife into the sheaf that sat on her hip when practicing; the other slid into a sheaf attached to her thigh. She’d taken to wearing the latter in an attempt make herself used to it. Sympathetically she reached out to touch Kallian’s elbow. “I’m so sorry that you and Alistair must hide a love that burns so brightly, when you are at home. But I’m equally happy that you and he are able to share that love with people who appreciate how hard you’ve had to work to make it work. It … it’s a gift, to see that sort of love and affection, in action. It’s an inspiration, too, because if you and Alistair can remain together through so much, then we all should be able to, as well.” Penelope blushed, embarrassed that she had, without meaning to, prosed on so profusely. Kallian, meanwhile, had decided that Penelope was one of the sweetest people she had ever met. Kallian didn’t meet many romantics in her line of work. She found Penelope to be a rather nice breath of fresh air, and it showed in the warm smile she gave her. “We are very good at surviving, I’ll give us that,” Kallian said. She doubted if Penelope wanted to go on at any further length about the many vagaries of love, however, and thus gave her weapon setup a look. “We should try out some different locations for your sheaths, to see where you find yourself most comfortable drawing from. Speed and fluidity are everything with daggers.” Penelope nodded. “Please. I’m not entirely sure I like this. I can’t exactly walk around with a knife on my hip, but I don’t want to keep one under a skirt. Or I suppose I could wear one on my hip but it would be strange. Where do you suggest?” She still hadn’t been able to bring herself to wear any of the trousers available, finding a sort of comfort in the swish of fabric around her legs -- except when she practiced with her knives. She’d finally understood how trousers made it easier to move, although she felt dreadfully exposed. “I like to draw off my back, personally,” Kallian replied, turning to show Penelope how her harness was rigged. “I don’t like to have to adjust my grip much after I grab the hilts, and I tend to be quite flexible in my shoulders, so that works well for me. If you’re tighter up there, you might find you like a hip draw better. I’ve known some people who like to go off the thighs, usually people who like to keep their weapons out of sight until the last second. That was how I started off, because elves in the Alienage aren’t allowed to carry weapons. I’d say try out all three, practice drawing over and over and see what you find most comfortable. I’ll even let you borrow my shoulder harness one day this week to give that a go, if you like. You’ve a bit more bosom than I do, but a little difference in buckling ought to make it work, at least well enough for you to get the idea.” Penelope peered at Kallian’s harness. She’d noticed her ease of draw, and envied it, but she doubted how comfortable it would be for her. It would be worth trying, however, just for information’s sake. “I will, thank you. I’ll do thigh and hip first, and then try the harness, I think. I already have the sheathes.” Thankfully, keeping her daggers hidden wasn’t a necessity. It would simply be a matter of becoming used to whichever way she chose to wear them. And wear them she would. The longer she was here, the more it became clear to Penelope that learning to defend herself and being armed was important. “You normally wear dresses, yes?” Kallian looked Penelope’s present clothing over. She was fairly certain that most of the time when she saw Penelope, the other woman had been in a skirt or a dress. “Have you considered skirted armor? Some people find it gets in the way, but others find it useful for how it hides leg movement. It’s not like a regular skirt--normally it’s all leather, split up the sides--but if you’re already comfortable moving around with more fabric down there, it might be something to try, see how it works for you.” Penelope’s head tilted to one side and she laughed. “I’m not going to wear armor daily, my dear. I’ll adapt my wardrobe to how I draw my daggers. These are comfortable enough, and use less fabric than any of my skirts. It is, perhaps, time that I fully adapt to my new home.” She started towards the exit, her lesson having ended. “Cullen and I have set a firm date for our wedding. The new year will come in a few months, and so we have chosen New Year’s Eve as our day. We’ll begin the year as we intend to go on, together.” Kallian rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean for daily wear,” she said, and smiled good-naturedly at her own miscommunication. “I meant for when you do expect that you’ll be going into battle. But,” she added with a grin, “That’s splendid news about the wedding! I am very glad to hear it has a date again. It seems a wedding would go very nicely with the celebration of a new year.” “That makes ever so much more sense!” Penelope agreed. “I hadn’t thought of that. To be honest, I don’t know that I will ever go into battle. I simply, well, they’re building those houses. If Cullen and I are lucky enough to have one for our own, we won’t be within the safety of the mountain, and I would like to be able to defend myself should the need arise. I don’t know how effective I would be in battle, but I am certain that I would be able to defend myself and a patient should I be treating someone injured in battle.” “I used to think I was going to be an apothecary,” Kallian pointed out with a wry smile. “Sometimes life has other plans for us than the ones we make. But I don’t suppose I have to tell that to anyone who got dropped here, do I?” “I thought I was going to be a spinster. And I’ve read the book that I’m from, and I end up marrying and stopped writing to edit my husband’s book,” Penelope said rather flatly, and with a shrug. “I consider being here an improvement, and I suppose that should life decide that I am to fight in a battle, then I will do so.” Kallian grinned. “I like your attitude,” she said. Kallian didn’t tend to think much of human nobility until they gave her a reason to change her mind, and Penelope had definitely changed her mind. She had spunk. She had also been making her way toward the exit, though, so it was a bit rude to keep her chatting. “Good practice today,” Kallian said, and nodded approvingly. “Work on that dual strike a bit, and we’ll refine it some tomorrow. Same time?” Penelope gave Kallian a sheepish grin that spoke volumes of whom she was going to find, and an awkward sort of wave. She had a good deal of news to impart. “Thank you, I will. Yes, this time works well for me. Have a good evening, Kallian.” |