westfallcorndog | Chat of Mythology

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viatorus

Chat of Mythology

Now that spring has officially sprung and the ~~wonderful~~ dastardly winter spirit has been vanquished, the streets of the Nexus are once again packed with warmbloods and breathers. Which is alright by Harrowheart; it makes it easier to invite friends to a pleasant afternoon out. He'd contacted Viatorus already and convinced him to meet for a chat on culture in an arboretum in the Wilds. It's a pleasant little area of split wood fences, gravel trails, and fantastical trees, each labeled with little brass plaques that tell of their world and the culture that surrounds them.

While he waits he arranges a place to sit: A blanket on the ground to keep the dirt off of Viatorus' expensive clothes, books on the history and mythology of Azeroth tactically placed at the four corners to keep the wind from blowing the cloth away, and a picnic basket right there in the middle. He's dressed vibrantly in the same gaudy Hawaiian shirt he wore to the birthday party in the aquarium while he sits, casually listening to music from his phone as he gazes up at the lavender leaves of a weeping willow that's budding some kind of perfectly round, silver fruit.

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Viatorus suspects, judging by Harrowheart's reaction, that he's said something silly. He shuffles on the spot.

"She's civilised... Most of the time." He rubs his arm, fidgeting to buy him time to form a response. "But... fighting physically, not with magic... It's... not... civilised."

Harrow's grin fades for quiet curiosity. "Can you explain why magic's more civilized than physical fightin', or is it that way just 'cause it is? Call me stupid, but it seems to me like it's no less civilized to punch a person 'til he dies than to conjure icicles that impale him."

He clears his throat and quickly adds, "Not that I've ever done either of those, and not that I'd ever do either to you. The point I'm tryin' to make is... If you hurt someone, does it really matter how you did it?"

He falters as he looks for an explanation. That wasn't something he'd ever questioned before. He'd never had any reason or desire to question it. Violence was pretty abhorrent in any context, but magic had always been said to be more civilised.

"It's... I... I don't know. It's more sophisticated." He shrugs. "Not as brutish, or thuggish. It requires thought and strategy and skill."

"Ahhh. I see, I see," he says, nodding as he does, once more back to grinning just a hair. "So the way you fight is noble and needs strategy and skill, and the way other folks fight ain't any of that."

He claps his hands together once and tilts his chin upward. "Then show me how you fight. Whip up a little wind, get up to speed, and knock me down." Harrow beckons V over with a wave of his hands.

Despite Harrowheart's nodding, Viatorus feels like he's said something silly without fully understanding what it is. Still, he's not about to go prodding to find out what it might be. No, they have something else to focus on. Besides, air magic is fun.

He nods and rolls his wrists and arms, loosening them up before they do anything. He gives one last look at Harrowheart to make sure his friend is ready, and then... It's a sudden swipe of his hand that gets the air moving. Not a small breeze, either. It ramps up with ridiculous speed, rushing straight for Harrowheart as if trying to knock him down. It's not. Not really. It is bringing dust, dirt and debris along with it though. Hopefully enough to distract his friend as he darts behind him with light footed hops. Once he's repositioned, the gale stops and Viatorus goes to strike the agreed upon blow... but he hesitates, stopping himself before he summons the magic.

The blast of air and all that comes with it hits Harrowheart as if he truly hadn't expected it. He digs his feet into the dirt to get a little leverage against it. With a bent arm he blocks the wind and dust from his eyes, leaving him perfectly unwitting as Viatorus takes his position behind him.

The sudden absence of the wind doesn't go unnoticed, though, and his first instinct is to look around for the mage. He isn't hard to find – Harrow knew where he'd be, after all. What he doesn't expect is Viatorus' hesitation. His own right hand is already glowing faintly blue with the magic he's about to conjure.

It's strike or be struck, V!

They had planned it, agreed it, but standing behind his friend he suddenly can't find the will to summon his magic. Not against Harrowheart. Not like this. Not an aggressive spell.

Attacking might not come naturally to him, but panicking certainly does. He jumps when Harrowheart turns around, snapping out of his hesitation. Instead of attacking, however, he flinches at the first sign of magic, throwing up his arms and a magical shield.

The chain spell Harrow was casting is over almost instantly. He doesn't even have time to register the shield that's been summoned by the time the shackles are being conjured. They rise up from ground level and already move to wrap around Viatorus' ankles before they're fully formed. The chains don't get far before they hit the shield, each link disappearing into it in time as the spell fizzles, blocked.

And Harrow only stands there. He stands and waits and watches, as if he expects the shield might go away in time. The lights of his eyes flicker to and fro with thoughts, but otherwise he appears totally expressionless.

Suddenly, "Hey!" he shouts. His right hand goes for one of his runeblades and draws it from the holster at his hip. "Don't get scared! I just wanna see if I can break it! I won't hurt you!"

Really, all he wants to do is strike the shield. There's nothing to be afraid of. Which is all well and good to say until he's leaping after V with a glowing ruenblade held high like a maniac axe murderer. He goes for a downward strike from the top of the shield first, and if that doesn't break it readies himself for a horizontal bisecting cut.

Edited 2016-07-03 14:10 (UTC)

Words mean very little in the face of a weapon being drawn and someone lunging themselves at you. Viatorus' eyes widen and he goes pale before flinching and putting even more power into his shield.

Meanwhile, Lyall has let a lot pass, but that doesn't mean he isn't listening and watching with great care. The normally stoic guard must consider Harrowheart's last move the last straw, as pulling the runeblade out immediately sets him running towards the death knight. When he lunges at Harrowheart, he's covered head to toe in a glowing blue grid. His aim is to knock the other away, preferably to pin him down, but he pulls his gun out the first chance he gets. "Drop your weapon and back down."

Well Harrowheart certainly didn't see that coming. Seems like Lyall's finally been pushed out of mind, as a good body guard ought to be. He isn't at all prepared to be knocked over, so it's easy to get him off his feet and onto the ground. His runeblade falls from his hand in the process, but it doesn't fall with a normal sense of gravity. Like a cat twisting to fall on its feet it does an unexpected roll and lands very softly on its side in the grass. The lights of the runes pulsate slowly as long as Lyall remains on top of Harrowheart.

Harrow spends a few seconds staring in surprise at Lyall. Then he looks him up and down, and, like an idiot, asks with a laugh, "What're you gonna do, shoot me?"

Lyall doesn't bat an eyelid, fixed on Harrowheart's eyes. The tip of his gun inches closer to Harrowheart's head. "Do I need to?"

"Wait!" Viatorus finally peeks through his arms enough to notice his guard now threatening his friend's unlife. His shield drops and he steps forward. "Stop!"

"Sir..."

"Get off him," Viatorus insists in an unusually authoritative command. "He... We were just... practicing."

Lyall holds his position for a long moment and then gradually lifts himself from Harrowheart, keeping his weapon readied as he does.

Harrow only has eyes for the gun. Hey, maybe encouraging a man to shoot you is a regrettable idea? Yet he doesn't seem too scared. Slightly anxious for what comes next, maybe, but there's no fear in his expression. It's only when Viatorus finally speaks – and in such a tone – that his attention leaves the gun. He watches V with raised eyebrows.

When Lyall finally gets off of him Harrow doesn't hurry up. He waits a few sweet seconds before slowly hauling himself to his feet. He dusts the grass off his gaudy shirt and khaki shorts and makes a point of not looking at Lyall. Instead he nods at Viatorus and forces a tiny smile.

"Thanks," he says, and with it his smile grows more genuine. "For trustin' that I wasn't gonna hurt ya."

With that he reaches out a hand, and without any visible magic his runeblade rights itself so that when it travels through the air and back into his grasp he's got a proper hold on the handle. Harrow wastes no time in putting it back where it belongs, tied at his hip and relatively harmless.

It's only then that he looks to Lyall, now without any hint of a smile. He tilts his chin up in a quick half-nod. "No hard feelings." It's a comment as much as a question. Are there hard feelings? It's just his job, after all... Right?

Edited (good thing you sleep while I'm awake. gives me time to quadruple-edit my posts B]) 2016-07-04 01:05 (UTC)

There's a slight clinking as Lyall steadies his aim at the sudden movement of Harrowheart's weapon. It takes him a second and what passes for a stern look from Viatorus before he considers Harrowheart's words. Slowly, he holsters his weapon and the glowing grid falls away. His only answer is a rough grunt and what might be a nod, or a shrug, it's hard to tell.

"You can go back now," Viatorus tells him and keeps an eye on the guard as he rolls his shoulders and then, reluctantly, moves away. This time he doesn't go quite as far away. It's enough of a distance for Viatorus to accept, however, and he smiles weakly at Harrowheart. "You're welcome. I'm... sorry he tackled you like that. I... just wasn't expecting that. I..." His cheeks go red. "I panicked."

"You panicked?" he says curiously, leaning in slightly to better hear Viatorus. "He's the one who came runnin' over. It's not like you called him?..."

He straightens up and looks between his friend and Lyall. Suddenly his eyes are darting all around, and then he turns his attention back to Viatorus, eyebrows raised and mouth open slightly in surprise. He pokes at his own temple with one finger.

"Did you call him? Psychically? Was that pattern on him from you?"

Truth be told, he seems much more curious about this than potentially offended. He even leans down again so that his face is on level with V's. Tell him your secrets, red-cheeked friend.

Edited 2016-07-04 19:16 (UTC)

All those questions stun Viatorus for a moment but when he organises his thoughts, he shakes his head. "Uh, no... No... I... He just... came. He thought I was in danger, I guess... I... don't know what that pattern was. He's never tackled someone before."

A little hastily, he adds, "I only meant, with the shield... I know we planned out what to do, but I... I panicked and threw up my shield instead."

Oh. Well that's slightly a let-down. Harrow stands up straight again and takes in a deep breath to steady himself again. Some day he's going to plumb the depths of V's definitely-not-conjecture telepathic abilities, but apparently that isn't today. Though...

His eyes narrow in thought as he stares across the distance at Lyall. That means Lyall's shield was either summoned by the guard himself or part of some other enchantment put on him. Which means that either Lyall is magical, which he was previously not sure of, or he's in possession of a magical artifact that protects him.

But does any of this really require thinking about? Getting curious about someone else's capabilities is the first step to inviting conflict. He chooses to ignore it for now and turns back to Viatorus with a smile and a soft pat to the shoulder.

"You don't gotta apologize, man. You didn't do what we planned, but you still did good! I was castin' a spell at you and your first instinct was to block it. That's better than faintin'! And when I came at you in a way you didn't figure I would, you put more power into it rather than backin' down."

Now with both hands on V's shoulders he squares off to give him a proud, approving nod. "You did good. You're braver than you give yourself credit for."

He waits a good while for those words to soak in as deeply as Viatorus will allow them, and then he has to go and spoil the moment. "So you ready to show off to Isidor?"

The approval and praise aren't what he expected. He didn't do what they had agreed, what they had planned. He deviated from the proposed method. To him, that shouldn't earn him pride, but yet here Harrowheart is, being adamantly proud of him. He had no idea what to make of that. Nor does he really have time to fully consider the idea of him being brave before Harrowheart's moving them along.

"Uh..." He squirms on the spot. "I don't know... Um... Maybe? I... I guess so?"

"Good!" Yeah, he's going to take that smidgeon of half-hearted and uncertain readiness and run with it. Of course he is. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't, would he?

He goes to his pocket for his phone, but before he comes close to touching it a lightbulb goes on in his head. "Aww, Veee," he says in a drawn-out, slightly over-dramatic way. "I don't have your sister's phone number... Shoot, and I don't think she'd like to find out you gave it to me. Guess that means you gotta be the one to tell her we're havin' a duel and you want her to show up."

He crosses his arms and watches with a knowing smile as he asks, "You think you're brave enough to tell your sister you're throwin' yourself at danger?"

Was he pale before? Because he definitely is now. He fidgets and waves a hand, but it takes him another bit to actually say anything. Why did he think this was a good idea, again?

"I... Are we sure this is a good idea?" Surely stalling will help him!

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Harrow asks, more for the opportunity to hear what Viatorus is going to say than any real objections on his part.

"If you can convince me this is a bad idea, we don't gotta go through with it. I mean, you got the chance to have your sister think you're a real cool dude who kicks major ass, but if you got objections, lay 'em out man."

He fidgets, head ducked for a bit until he shrugs and looks at Harrowheart again. "The thing is... I'm not. A 'real cool dude' and... not someone who 'kicks major ass'. A-And if I did, I wouldn't want to hurt a friend."

A quiet sigh of cold air streams from Harrow's nostrils. He pats V's shoulder softly, and in an equally soft way says, "I think you're cool, V. Even if you are a nerd."

Then, a little more brightly, he says, "I can't deny you don't kick major ass. But... Maybe... Maybe you don't have to? What does Isidor expect from you, after all? I ain't tryin' to be mean or talk down to ya, but... She kinda does all the fightin' for you, right? And when you're scared when she's around, you freeze up. So anything's a step up from that, right?"

He bends down just a hair so that once again he's on face level with V, and he lowers his voice to a calm and even tone. "Let's not lie to Isidor. Let's not be liars. We can tell her we're gonna have a friendly duel, and she can come in with whatever expectations she's got. Then you can show her some of your moves. You won't have to hurt me, or even pretend to. You can dispel my blight and whip up winds and hop around and think of it like a play the whole time. You can even make a shield, and I'll find a better way to come at you than with my blades. Just do what you did last time, hmm? Put your strength into the shield. Dig in your heels and don't back down. I'll be the one to back down, and we'll tell Isidor you've been trainin', and she'll be proud of you."

He leans in just slightly. "Does that sound better than fakin' a fight?"

It's lucky Harrowheart calls him out on being a nerd, because it derails his hesitation. Instead of overthinking the compliment, he smiles, even if it is a flighty little twist of his lips. That in turn makes it easier to follow Harrowheart's easy going train of thought. How he manages to turn something from a terrifying prospect to a near playful proposition is... something he'll be wondering at for a while.

For now, however, he brings himself back to the question left before him. He nods and smiles again. "Yes. It does. Much better. We'll do that. That doesn't sound so bad. Just... give me one moment."

He pulls out his phone and starts tapping away at it. "Are we staying here?"

Harrow looks around at the arboretum. There's certainly enough space to conduct a duel, provided they respect the trees, and the weather seems pleasant enough – for now at least. Who knows what the Nexus might do at any given minute. With a hand at his brow to shield his eyes from the light he looks upward at the sky and starts to nod.

"Yeah, here. Here sounds good, don'tcha think? Even if it is – whew! – so warm out here, huh?" Is it, though? Honestly, it seems like the average spring day. There's even a gentle breeze to accompany the pleasant temperature. And yet here Harrowheart goes unbuttoning his gaudy pink shirt as he mumbles something about "Just gonna pop this off real quick before your sister shows up..."

Texting isn't one of Viatorus' fortés exactly, which is why he puts so much focus on his phone while he explains where they are to Isidor. He could have called, but... he'd rather not hear her reaction to this. After the text is sent off, he catches sight of Harrowheart's wardrobe change and turns a light shade of red.

"I-I could cool this area down if you like," he offers suddenly. "You really don't need to..."

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Last words of man shot to death

*his second death

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