(no subject)

[suitsahero]

There are many places that Lord Haurchefant has been in his life that have been unexpected but standing on an airship landing dock waiting for the arrival of his betrothed is close to the top of the list. It's certainly one of the most nerve-wracking ones.

He's not unhappy about it, exactly, doesn't bear any kind of sullen resentment or bemoaning of his fate. He'd volunteered, after all. It's just... like something from a storybook, isn't it? The High Houses do play politics over love in marriages for the most part, his very existence is proof of that, but he's never heard of the arrangement being arranged entirely by others and certainly usually the couples had met before. But this kingdom far across the sea has older ways, and when it was stated in no uncertain terms that the way they were to cement their alliance was to marry their princess to a member of Ishgardian nobility, the Archbishop had agreed.

There were reminders, of course, that the Ishgardians had no king and of course the Archbishop had forgone all worldly pleasures in pursuit of his religious ones (a fact every Ishgardian knew was not the case at all, but the pretense was enough to exclude certain other knights from the selection process) so there were no princes to be had, but surely a suitable groom could be found among the High Houses. Whoever offered one of their sons for this would be quite favored, after all.

One might be forgiven for thinking that that was why he volunteered, or that it was coerced or asked of him in some way, but really, it was sitting there, listening to them talk about this poor girl like she was an inconvenience that pushed him over the edge. That the practice was backwards, but necessary to the kingdom, that it was a sacrifice for a noble Ishgardian to be stuck with some foreign princess. A jeering sidebar about how she was probably ugly, another about the joys of foreign women not so frozen stiff as their Ishgardian counterparts, were the final straws that had him hunting down his father.

There are so many that he can't save. But he's pretty sure he can save this one.

And so, here he is, dressed in finer clothes than he usually prefers when he's not in armor, waiting in nervous anticipation for a woman he's never even seen so much as a picture of.

Comments

[battlerina]

She's struck by the look he gives her, uncertain initially how to interpret it. But when he turns pink, so does she, and she smiles just a little more. Her hands fidget without a spear being held in them, a simple tell when she's been taken off guard by something, and she uses them now to uselessly smooth down the corners of her armor as if that might do something. It gives them something to do, though, until she lifts her head to meet Haurchefant's eyes. Her smile grows a little, even brighter this time.

"I would like that. I'd like to see how you fight." Gwendolyn realizes just a moment later how scandalous that sounds, quickly recovering to amend: "I would like to see how our fighting styles compare." That's what she meant. Clearly.

The armorer gives the both of them a bit of a look, though crosses to provide both with practice spears to be used to put the armor through a thorough test, if only to see how she moves in it and what will need natural adjustments. No dragoon is she and though she might one day better understand the art, it's better to have armor be able to work now and keep her alive than to be faulty. "Is there a training area?" she asks. "Or--" Would that be too public and noticeable?

[suitsahero]

He beams when she says she'd like to see how he fights and it's a little dizzying, to see how quickly he can turn from the serious young man he's seemed in places, the Commander here, to something entirely more enthusiastic and boyish,

"You're going to draw the eyes of the entire garrison regardless. May as well give them something to watch," he actually takes up a practice sword and a real shield, emblazoned with the Fortemps unicorn. "This way."

There are enough wide open courtyards here that practice is often just in one of those, with everyone giving the participants a wide berth. He leads her out there, heedless of how public the entire thing is. He does have enough political know-how, however to make plain and clear, loud enough to be heard without it seeming like he intended for it to be,

"Now, you much promise not to go easy on me, my dear. 'Twas I who was fool enough to issue the challenge," it lets the men and women here know that this is no serious match, that they are allowed to cheer for who they wish. He does turn when they get there though and grin at her, "That said, I don't intend to go easy on you, just because you are the fairest thing to grace these grounds in many winters."

[battlerina]

The spear is passed gently from one hand to the other, gauging its weight, and she lets her eyes linger there far less than she should; for much of it, she's looking at him and the smile that could light up a room - has lit up every room since she first arrived, and she almost numbly follows him out to the courtyard. It takes a few more moments to really focus, only for it to be shattered again when he quite deliberately calls her the fairest thing to grace these grounds and she nearly loses that focus all over again.

How can he be so free with his compliments and his affections? It's baffling. (And endearing.)

They have the attention of the people wandering outside, those who had been already gathered for their own practicing and now come to rest.

"I don't think I will learn much if I go easy on you. And you would be disappointed besides," she says, because she knows she would be most frustrated if he treated her like glass. She will afford him the same courtesy. "Please don't hold back." That garners a few more glances, a murmur or two. Gwendolyn steps away from Haurchefant so she can take her place, holding the spear lightly and almost close to her chest, her entire stance a bit of an antithesis to the Dragoon and Lancers of Ishgard. It almost looks casual, though she does eventually hold it out just a bit further. This spear isn't enchanted the way hers is; naturally, she knows she's at a bit of a disadvantage, even if she wouldn't have wanted to see harm come to him as it is. "When you're ready."

[suitsahero]

He nods, salutes, and then immediately leaps into action. It's easy to see how he could be dangerous in a real fight, full of zeal and vigor, but it's also just as easy to see that this is not a real fight. He's a commander and the point here isn't to win or lose, but to test the armor, and so he doesn't start any kind of tricky maneuvering or even really attacking her dead side or anything. It's literally a testing blow, but it comes fast all the same-- he presumes she will be able to catch it or leap away, making it clear he's not above bruising her in the name of this test with the strength behind it.

Truth be told, he's more expecting he's about to go on the defensive. His preferred fighting style is more suited to it, incorporating a combination of his shield and the ability to parry with the other hand, turning a foe's attack to his advantage.