Sebastian Vael (lordstarkhaven) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-05-18 16:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, lara croft, sebastian vael |
Who: Sebastian Vael and Lara Croft
What: Getting some tutoring
When: 5/13 or so
Where: Lara's backyard/beach
Rating/Warning: PG
Status: Complete
Urdnot Ranch had state of the art archery facilities and Shepard had been willing to let Lara use them for her own personal use. Despite that, she felt more comfortable with inviting Sebastian over to her house. A large mansion with beach access and a dock, she’s set up archery targets on the grass. They could graduate to Urdnot Ranch later, but for now she brewed tea while she waited for the man.
Sebastian had arrived, toting his recurve from the dreams instead of his fancy competition bow. It felt somehow more organic to him; more like he’d used that for longer. He was walking toward the front door of the house, surprised at how much it looked like his father’s. Would there actually be servants?
There actually was a servant, but Lara had sent Winston off on an errand. He was overdue to return to London but kept insisting on checking on her and Sam. It was mildly annoying, but he was one of the closest things she had to a family, outside of Sam and Roth, so she indulged him. It was the brunette woman who answered the door. Though she was barely twenty-two and still showed her age, her eyes held the sharpness of a killer, and her face was a little sunburnt from her trip to Malaysia. There was a faded scar over her left eye from an altercation in London when she’d worked at a bar, and another on the bridge of her nose that had come from her dreams. Other scars criss-crossed her shoulders under her tank top straps, and she was wearing cargo pants and well-worn boots. She looked like she’d be more at home scaling cliffs or spelunking into caves, than attending a high society ball.
She nodded her head at him and smiled. “Come in. Would you like something to drink before we head to the beach?”
“Hello, Miss Croft.” Sebastian nodded back, smiling a little. “It’s a pleasure. A quick bit of tea might be nice, but please, no need to put yourself out.” He hoped she could understand him. He noticed she was English; he’d dimly heard of a Croft family somewhere, but many English of high station professed to be baffled by his diction.
"I've already got it ready. How do you like it? It's fresh." She nodded at him for him to follow her into the kitchen, where the tea was already steeping. She had a kettle of course, only in a dire emergency would she ever boil water in the microwave. That was just blasphemy. "Please, call me Lara. I prefer to be informal when I can help it. The, ah, surroundings not withstanding." Lara looked a little sheepish. "When I came to town I decided I might as well make use of this property rather than let it go to waste. I had some renters since it's so big, but they've all left." Come to think of it, she should advertise for new renters. She'd liked having people around, even with her more solitary nature.
And at least it wasn't "Lady Croft". Sam still didn't let her live that down. She had to take the title with the inheritance, so that was yet another reason she kept putting that off. Less important than wanting to prove herself without the family fortune, but still important.
She could parse Sebastian’s accent easily enough. Years of listening to Roth’s Yorkshire accent and (especially) Grimm’s fast Glaswegian had taught her well.
“Milk and sugar, please. And thank you, Lara; in that case I’m Sebastian.” Sebastian set his bow case down. “You do have a lovely home. Reminds me of my father’s estate up in the Highlands.” His opinion of her would be set on her reply to that question; a normal person would say thank you; a stuck-up English aristo would be horrified to be compared to a ramshackle Scots manor.
“Sebastian.” Lara smiled at him and made the tea to order. “There are some fascinating buildings up there. I used to go hiking with my guardian, and his best mate is from Glasgow. The three of us have some great arguments come Football.” Her way of assuring him that wasn’t a problem.
Well and good, then. “I grew up in Inverness, though my father’s seat is in Starkhaven, down the coast.” Sebastian smiled, nodding his thanks for the tea. “I used to shoot when I was growing up, but I’ve sadly grown rusty. Entirely against my will - I just didn’t have the time to practice.”
“I understand. I didn’t practice near as much as I should have. Not until these dreams. They mirrored my life, only in a much more...exceptional manner. Roth pushed me harder in then, my parents took me on expeditions…” She shook her head. “They were really pleasant and useful until things went wrong. But they did reinvigorate my archery.”
“Mine did as well. I don’t know if you were around for the ... insanity.” Sebastian was somehow relieved that she was a dreamer. “The ... creatures, and the volcanic ash, and dragon?”
“I ran out of arrows and had to resort to a rifle,” she said, sighing. “I still have such a hard time accepting such things. I’m a scientist, my life’s work is in unraveling the mysteries of the ancient world, but then these dreams shake all that up and there’s more out there than we actually know…”
“I can imagine that’s difficult.” Sebastian cocked his head to one side. “Scientists are such logical creatures. It must be rather maddening, to think you’ve tried to prove so much and you come here, where nothing seems provable.”
“Ah, but I believe it’s provable. It’s just a matter of how and when.” She still didn’t believe in magic. There must be an explanation of some sort. And she’d find it.
He didn’t get into that. Scots had enough fairy-tale traditions that he didn’t rule out anything. Instead he said, “The reason I bring it up is because I wound up a part of a small party underground that had to take out the ... general, I suppose? The mastermind. And I wasn’t as good a shot as I could have been, plain and simple.”
“So you want to make sure you’re good enough should the inevitable happen again,” Lara suggested. “We can definitely help with that.” She finished her tea and set it down. “My bow is on the patio, I’ll grab it on the way down. I have quite a few arrows stockpiled.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” Sebastian finished his a minute or so after, smiling. “Hopefully there won’t be anything quite as mad as all that in the future” - he knocked lightly on the wooden coffee table - “but I’d much prefer to be prepared. I broke a few ribs and just, I don’t know. Made too many bloody mistakes.”
“The mistake is thinking your body is the same as in the dreams.” Lara flexed and patted her guns. She wasn’t a weightlifter but they were still athletic and fairly impressive. “I had to train my body to be as good as it is in the dreams. I do think I have a higher pain tolerance than before, I think.”
“Fair point, that. In the dreams I’m a bit of a wastrel, but I’m also young and strong.” Sebastian hadn’t thought of it like that. “I’m not in terrible shape here, but I’m sure I could be better. The better the arm strength, the higher the draw, after all.”
“That’s something you can work at.” Lara headed for the door, holding it open for him, and then heading down the small stairs, grabbing her bow on the way. The path led to little dock with a small sailboat, and just past that on the left was the beach, with targets. Waves lapped at the sand, and Lara kicked off her shoes before she stepped on it.
“Of course, yes.” Sebastian followed her out the door and down toward the beach, looking around as he went. “This is lovely,” he commented, looking around.
“Thank you. It’s a bit much for just two people, now that we’ve lost our roommates, so I’ll be looking around to see if anyone needs a place.” Lara’s rules were pretty simple - stay out of the study unless invited, and don’t break anything that looks old.
She nocked an arrow and took aim, judging the breeze. She put the arrow a few inches to the left of the center of the target. “The thing to keep in mind, when you’re trying to kill someone, is that even if you’re off an inch or two, you’ll still take them down. The trick shots are the ones that involve moving - yours, or theirs.” She tapped her head with the back of an arrow. “An orc’s head is actually a bit bigger than a person’s. But they were armored, so being off an inch is the difference between killing it, or it killing you. And being an inch off when hitting a moving target might as well be a mile.”
Lara showed him again. The first arrow was a bit off, but she fired off a second so quickly it was shocking, and this one was dead center. “Of course, if you’re fast enough you could compensate. And when you’re in actual combat, adrenaline helps a great deal to add power.”
Sebastian got his bow out, taking his own arrows and feeling himself relax. Just having a bow in hand set him at ease - how had he let himself get so rusty? “Moving targets is where I have difficulty,” he said. “Right now, I could group five around the bulls-eye without blinking - almost all of my experience when I was a wee lad was target shooting. For a time I wanted to train for accuracy in the Olympics. But I’m so used to having ages to aim that moving targets get the better of me constantly. Would you suggest I work on speed before anything?”
“You need to work on speed then, yes, so that you can hit near as possible to the center when the target is moving.” Lara walked over to a basket on the beach. “I got some frisbees. Lets see if you can hit them while moving. I’ll just toss them up so the flat part is facing you.”
She’d have to get one of those clay pigeon shooters.
“All right. Though do toss them high; I imagine it’s bad form if I accidentally shot you.” Sebastian was good-natured enough to laugh at himself. He knew his faults; he could admit most of them. Those that he couldn’t admit, well, those weren’t very relevant right now anyway.
He took up an arrow, waiting until she was ready and a few feet away before nocking it. “Ready when you are, Mis - Lara.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been hit with an arrow. Bullets, a grenade once,” Lara mused, deadpan. She picked up some frisbees, and tossed one high into the air!
He could see it, but he knew instinctively he was too damn slow. “Shite.” Sebastian judged the flight path, but it went high. The same thing happened with the second, and the third. “Bollocks. Maybe count two before I let go?”
“I’ll throw one so you can count it, then I’ll do another and you try to take a shot?” Lara suggested.
“All right.” Sebastian nodded, waiting for her, then counting out loud when she tossed it in the air. “One ... two ... shoot!”
They repeated the process once more. “Shoot! Does that seem like better timing to you?”
“You’re doing much better already,” Lara assured him. “Not the center yet.” She brought over the ones he’d hit. “But better than most people could do, I think. I’m going to pick up a clay shooter.”
“You think so?” Sebastian checked them out. “Just winging the sides on some of them, but I suppose it’s better than before.” He was hard on himself, he knew that. “A clay shooter would be a good investment. I may try to get one myself; my girlfriend might help with it.”
“Practice makes perfect,” Lara pointed out, with proper British enthusiasm. “Let’s work on your stance next, it was a tad too rigid!”
“I can do that.” Sebastian managed a smile. “I appreciate your help, truly.”
“I don’t mind,” Lara replied. She thought that it helped her focus. She’d enjoyed teaching Sam to shoot, after all.
“Would it trouble you if I were to ask for a bit more help in the future? Once I get a clay shooter?” Sebastian smiled a little.
“Not in the slightest,” Lara promised him. She held out her hand to shake on it.
Sebastian did so, inclining his head. “If I do make the Olympic team, I’ll give you proper credit, Miss Lara.” He left with a smile.