Foul! No firing on an unarmed target!
Who: Boromir, Eowyn and Faramir What: A paintball duel When: 3/27 Where: A paintball park Status: complete Rating: Pg-13
After the recent events, Eowyn was more than willing to take out her emotions on a valid target. That target being Boromir. That they hadn’t sniped online wasn’t so much telling of their relationship so much as neither wanting to get into it in the midst of tragedy.
But she was there, dressed in her shortest shorts and a tight white shirt, and the required goggles.
Boromir was better dressed, in jeans and a black t-shirt, and he was trying very hard not to look at Eowyn’s legs. He muttered something under his breath.
Someone else was trying very hard not to look at Eowyn's legs, and that someone was the judge for this event. Faramir had worn a plain faded green t-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. He also had goggles on in case of an errant paintball. He had been noting the tense atmosphere between his brother and Eowyn, but wisely kept his mouth shut about it and made no comment.
Another reason why, was because he was too busy trying to sort through why he would even do something so base as to check out any woman's legs, since doing that to is wrong. He had made it such a point in his life to not do that to anyone of the female persuasion. Thanks, womens studies major ex-girlfriend from college, who pointed out that no one should be objectified by gawking at their body parts...which stopped after that one time he did do that to his own girlfriend and was called out on it. He had also gathered that staring at Eowyn might result in a punch to the balls, so it was better not to tempt fate and get caught. Eyes forward and gaze kept above the shoulders!
"...are you both ready to begin?" he asked them, looking from one determined face to the other disgruntled face, and then back again.
“Yes,” Eowyn said, checking the CO2 in her paintball gun. She then nodded her head and pointed at Boromir as if to say ‘ima getcha.’ Then? She totally checked out Faramir’s legs.
“I’m ready, too.” Boromir narrowed his eyes to little beady dots. “What, pray tell, are the rules. Oh great judge?”
He was going to shoot her for checking out his brother’s legs. That? Was never, ever going to be allowed.
Wait. Did she just...? Faramir looked down at his own feet and then back up again, when he caught Eowyn's stare. He felt his face grow a little hot, probably not enough to look flushed, because surely that was just a cursory glancing at and nothing that might be considered checking him out. And yet, what was that feeling he had after the fact. Still unexplainable!
He coughed to clear his throat, glanced at his brother, and then said just loud enough for them to hear, "No low blows. Keep it a clean fight. No aiming for sensitive places better left unsaid. Try not to aim for the face, if possible. I will stop you both if I feel it has gone on long enough, if I see any slapping, hitting, or kicking. The loser is the one with the most paint upon their person. Good luck, to the both of you, and may the best person win and your fued be considered satisfied, thereafter. If you will but nod or state your consent aloud, I will declare the duel started."
A smirk curled up the blonde's lip and she returned her focus to her nemesis. She nodded her head along with Faramir's explanation of the rules and as soon as he finished broke into a run, diving for cover as Boromir predictably opened fire in a 'spray and pray' sort of manner. She took one bright blue pellet in the ass.
"HAH! First blood!" Boromir boomed. Pink splattered across his chest in response.
"SECOND!" Eowyn shouted.
“Noted!” Faramir fought the urge to facepalm, since he had to keep an eye on the proceedings. That Boromir took the Rambo machine gun approach wasn't a surprise to him either, but any subtle hints via a stare were missed due to the combat in progress.
It was pretty amusing to watch, and soon Faramir found himself smiling at them both, feeling no need at all to call any fouls. Yet. There was always a yet. At least where Boromir was concerned? He didn't have much knowledge of Eowyn other than what he had determined from the internet, and that she had a temperament that could easily match Boromir's.
Eowyn figured out the best way to keep Boromir occupied was to goad him. She shouted insults, and peppered the area he was under cover with seemingly random shots. To an outside observer, it was soon obvious she was pushing Boromir in a specific direction.
Boromir had disappeared from sight. He knew he was being led.
That was okay. He had a plan.
Boromir's plans were often daring and had a good chance of success. However, noticing that Boromir had slipped from view and with Eowyn engaged in dishing out a heaping helping of trash talk, Faramir also had to move to a better vantage point, to try to keep his eye on things. In fact, he had to try to sneak around and up onto a barrier to see what was going on. And, not wanting to give Boromir's position away, he made sure not to turn his head or move his eyes toward his brother's location. Nope, in fact, Faramir looked like he was simply hanging out, staring off at some point between the both of them, resting his eyes just enough that he could notice any peripheral motion.
In truth, he was fascinated by the way they were both figuring out how to best one another. It was becoming a question of who was going to go through with their plan first.
One of Boromir’s pellets hit Eowyn in the forehead, but one of hers hit him in the throat as he darted from cover. He coughed, diving hard behind a barrier. “I got you!”
“I got you first!” Eowyn laughed and wiped at her forehead. “Come out and lets finish this like adults.”
“No!” Boromir sounded almost petulant. He scowled and went silent, crawling through the dirt until he had a fantastic view of Eowyn’s ass good shot lined up. Then he put a pellet into each butt cheek and a third right between.
Eowyn shrieked, turned and unloaded her entire clip into Boromir’s face.
"Not the face," Faramir had called out to them, followed by, "Not the throat!" And then he covered his face with one hand, utterly embarrassed by his brother's aim and the aftermath. "Not there and not the face!"
He sighed and shook his head at them, despite the fact that he was smiling all the while. "You are both incorrigible. Are you through, yet, or do you wish to continue?"
Boromir wiped his goggles clean and looked at Eowyn. Eowyn looked back at him. Then both raised their paintball guns and opened fire. Right at Faramir.
Faramir nearly let out a yelp of pain, it was so unexpected. When the realization that they had joined forces against him had set in, he let himself roll back off the top of the barricade and landed behind it in an undignified heap on the ground. While he had managed not to make any ouch noises, he did let out a rather loud 'oomph!' noise as the air left his lungs.
After a couple of coughs while laughing, he yelled out a good humored sounding, "Foul! No firing on an unarmed target! Both parties are disqualified!"
"Nay!" Boromir shouted, charging up on one side. He pointed his gun at his brother on the ground while Eowyn crept up the other side. "I call it a draw. How about you?"
"A draw," Eowyn agreed. She pulled her goggles off and shook her hair out of it's ponytail.
Boromir gave a a 'really was that necessary' look.
It was necessary, yes, because Faramir had to catch himself to keep from staring when she did that. He was mostly successful. Mostly.
"If you did not want my opinion, I should not have been asked to be the judge." Faramir held up both hands, knowing he was at a disadvantage. He slowly sat up while telling them both, "A draw seems fitting. You are both equally skilled opponents and it was a good match. Are you both appeased now?"
Eowyn shot Boromir in the knee. “Now I am.”
“You little bitch,” he growled, and shot her in the stomach. This started another round of paint pellets with Faramir in the middle.
"Wait, no, don’t do tha---...language? Boromir, no!" Faramir quickly tapdanced out of the way and watched them for a moment, once he was out of the line of fire. Direct line of fire, rather, since he was left standing there for a while, getting second-hand paintball splattered.
"CEASE!" he said, with more force than he normally used in daily conversation. He quieted down after but still sounded insistent, all while holding out both arms to them, as though he meant to step in and keep them separated. "I think the debt is satisfied, or the both of you will be here until the morrow, firing at one another!"
Boromir, No was the language of their childhood.
Eowyn shouldered her weapon, eyeing Faramir but ceasing as requested. About time the man grew some balls, she thought. He was handsome but lacked a little in the spine department. Boromir was handsome and he had spine but he was a complete jackass. Bozo brothers, indeed.
With a heavy sigh, Boromir followed suits. “I suppose we’ll have to be satisfied with a draw.” He was covered in pink paint, but there was nothing he could do about that, and if he pitched a fit it would just give the woman more verbal ammunition.
That really was the title of it: Boromir, No. Faramir spent most of his childhood either berated by Denethor or watching in speechless horror as Boromir used knives to 'slide' down the curtains like a master assassin, or lobbing things over the neighbor's fence with makeshift trebuchets. He was there for all of it, and - on occasion - even was coerced into handing over the knives or the garden stones for ammunition. And he was usually the first to try to cover up the damage before someone found out. It was his first lessons in sneakiness.
To what was probably going to be Eowyn’s frustration, it wasn't Faramir's way to lose his temper or to be as loud as his brother was and bellow orders at everyone, since he preferred to discuss and reason things out. He left all of the loud to Boromir, and it was a rare occurrence when Faramir ever had the motivation to raise his voice. That was usually reserved for times where it was extremely noisy or when under severe duress, like being hit by multiple paintballs. Those things hurt on impact, you mad persons, you.
"A draw, it is," Faramir was saying, as he finally lowered both arms. "Now that we are each covered in paint and bruises, shall we part ways or should we have a drink before doing so?"
“The sooner I get away from that harlot madwoman, the better.” The older man set aside the paintball gun and looked down at himself in disgust. “I need to change, first.”
“Afraid I’ll drink you under the table?”
“.....” Boromir narrowed his eyes again.
"It's not a contest," interjected Faramir, before another dispute could break out, “only a drink between people who have made their peace with one another."
That wasn't a massive hint hint or anything.
“You’re afraid I’ll drink you under the table,” Eowyn said, folding her arms and jutting her jaw out.
“Clean up,” Boromir barked. “And then meet us at the bar.” The Challenge Was On.
Someone knew when he was going to be the designated driver. Faramir stared straight ahead in the manner of someone who knew that further interjections were not going to have the desired effect of stopping either person from sniping at one another. He knew when to pick his battles, and so he nodded to them both, smiled, and started to guide Boromir in the away direction before another bicker-fest broke out.
"You must admit," Faramir was saying as he moved them in the away direction, "that she is quite skilled and the match was equal. If the opponent had been too easily defeated, you would be dissatisfied."
“That is no matter,” Boromir said, his eyes firmly on Eowyn’s backside as the woman stormed off. “I doubt this is the last of it, but I would be happier if we only saw her on weekends. Thank god the election season is heating up.” He let out a blustery exhale. “I’ll be too busy to deal with the likes of her!”
"If you are so happy to only see her on weekends, then let it be noted that you're taking every opportunity to stare at her. Is it in preparation for during the week, when she is no longer before you?" asked Faramir, all while staring at his brother quite fixedly so he did NOT check out the view of a retreating Eowyn (which he imagined was oh so very aesthetically pleasing, but he is not allowing himself to go there). He sighed a little and was ready to pull on a clean t-shirt and some khaki pants, and to simply go relax. He hoped. It could go terribly wrong if they started throwing drinks at each other.
"Look, Boromir. You both have gotten out the most of your aggressions," he pointed out, "so let us have a drink amongst friends, and then I will get Eowyn a cab so she stays safe. Then I will drive you home."
That seemed to be the safest, wisest, and most respectful course of action toward all parties, according to Faramir.
"I'm staring at her in dismay," Boromir protested. He elbowed his brother. "And it is not like you haven't done your share of staring. She's a beautiful woman. An annoying twat, but a beautiful woman." He waved a hand. "Fine, but I'm not going to go out of my way to be friendly. Thank god it's only weekends."
It was a good thing that Boromir had elbowed him and waved his hand afterward, since Faramir had given his brother a flabbergasted staring at and had his mouth open to protest the use of the word 'twat'. He closed it and heaved a silent sigh, thinking it wasn't best to poke the bear with a stick right now. He knew when to pick and choose his battles, and right now, he chose to gently protest.
"I'm not going to argue that she is beautiful. Only that it is impolite to stare like that. It reduces them to a common sex object, and doesn't take into account that they are individuals with thoughts and feelings." So there. "Are you ready to go?"
"Oh aye," Boromir said, then rolled his eyes at his brother. "Appreciating a beautiful woman doesn't reduce them to a sex object. You need to stop reading those social justice websites, they're poisoning your mind." One of his aides had shown him something called 'tumblr' and it was a frightening place filled with people with nice ideals but no real world experience.
Faramir liked tumblr. He sometimes scrolled through his dash in the morning with his cup of coffee, looking at gifs of cats and social justices that needed righting, so he could sign whatever new petition was going around. He took note of all the moral outrage at bigots, racists, current events, and the likes. Even if Farmair never finger pointed when reblogging or commenting, he fit in there, just fine. Thank you very much. He got his tumblr on.
"I sometimes think you should look at them more often," countered Faramir, managing to make it sound like he was teasing his brother and not meaning it at all seriously. "Let us be off, before Eowyn thinks we are afraid to face her."
"There's a difference between sitting on one's arse and screaming in all caps and actually going out and doing something," Boromir pointed out, as he if couldn't stand people that spoke loudly and did nothing about it. "And I am never afraid of Eowyn."
And that was the end of if, as far as he was concerned.
Faramir thought better of debating things now, when he could wait until Boromir had one beer in him, and then he would bring up that social media wasn't all yelling in caps (which Faramir never did), but sharing injustices and information and people joining together to do what they believed was right and finding ways to help. Sometimes with amusing gifs, sometimes with the fist to the desk moral outrage one would expect, along with a lot of relevant hashtags.
"Of course you're not," Faramir mildly replied, ready to head out for drinks. "But she may think it, if we tarry any longer."
With that, Faramir silently slipped out the door and left it to his brother to boisterously bound through it, after.