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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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..."

"No, no!" Harrow says, feigning a tone of humbly not wanting to be a burden. He folds his shirt neatly and sets it down on the picnic blanket. "It's fine, really, it's fine!"

That's when he turns and sees V's red cheeks. He tries to suppress his smile, but it's so hard.

"What's up, man? Are you embarrassed about bein' the only one with a shirt on? 'Cause you can take yours off too. Get your flex on?"

Harrow proceeds to demonstrate by flexing his biceps and bouncing his eyebrows.

If Harrowheart's goal was to get Viatorus to mimic a tomato, then he succeeded! Viatorus' cheeks burn and his head shifts back, tilting downward as he shakes it.

"Oh, no, no, I... I'll keep mine on." The thought of letting the full scrawniness of his figure show in front of his friend's weightlifter physique is... cringe worthy at the very least. He considers commenting on the sheer amount of muscle Harrowheart has, but can't think of anything casual to say, let alone intelligent. Instead he clears his throat and tries to find something to look at that won't startle his inner upper class prude.

Harrow shrugs and makes a point of looking down at his runeblades as he unfastens them from their holsters. It's easier to keep his smile hidden like that. Poor Viatorus. Poor, sweet V. While he fidgets with the chain clasps he says, "Don't worry, V. Someday you might enjoy takin' your shirt off in front of other guys."

Heteroheart, stop Making It Weird. And he does!

No, wait, sorry. He definitely doesn't. After he sets his runeblades down next to his shirt he goes about doing various stretches to fill the time while he waits for Isidor to arrive. As he turns in various directions, his shirtlessness exposes the scars he'd mentioned earlier. His back and the sides of his ribs are a bramble hedge of ridged claw slashes and punctures from the teeth of the worgen that mauled him. The hastiness of the healer's spell is obvious, but she must have been powerful to have kept him alive for all the damage he took in one sitting.

For his part, Harrow seems oblivious to the gruesome sight. Of course he would be, though. Out of sight, out of mind.

Edited (typos) 2016-07-08 20:15 (UTC)

That baffles him for a good few minutes. His eyes glaze over as he silently dissects Harrowheart's remark. The conclusion is marked by a fresh blush on his cheeks. It really isn't helped by the stretches, or the scars they highlight. Even after Harrowheart's recollection of his transition into a worgen, they still come as a surprise. Viatorus' morbid curiosity doing battle with his manners as he steals glances while doing his best to resist the urge to stare.

Isidor's appearance, then, is a welcome distraction. He relaxes when he sees her, despite the long strides and the fact that she's sporting flat shoes today, which he doubts was the story a short while ago. She shoots a look to Lyall as she approaches, but he only hefts a shrug in response. Then she gets close enough to notice Harrowheart's scarred bare skin. The exact moment she does is marked by a sudden wariness, a sharp slowing down of her approach. She looks the death knight up and down, her expression held stiff to keep it unreadable, and then she turns to her brother. "What's going on?"

"We're having a duel," Viatorus replies quickly, bouncing on the spot a little in a hopeful sort of way. "A-A friendly one."

Usually Harrowheart is more than happy to see Isidor arrive, even when she does look like she's eaten a lemon, but there's something about her stony expression and curt question that keeps him quietly hesitant when she speaks to her brother. The fact that she's looking a little shorter today than she did last time doesn't go unnoticed, and he finds himself looking down at her shoes rather than her face for now.

It's when Viatorus says 'friendly' that he looks back up, worried at first. Harrow forces himself to stop looking like he's guilty of something with a small nod and an encouraging smile. He doesn't say anything – at least not yet – but he does step closer to Viatorus so that he can rest a forearm atop his friend's shoulder. The longer he stands like that, the cornier his smile gets.

Just pose and smile, Harrow. Pose and smile.

Edited (typos) 2016-07-15 22:14 (UTC)

Isidor's gaze flicks to Harrowheart again and then back to her brother. "You're having a duel. With him?"

Viatorus shuffles on the spot. "Yes... Why?"

Once more ~~with feeling~~, she looks over Harrowheart and then tips her head at her brother, shooting him an incredulous look.

This time Viatorus frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Thank you for the vote of confidence." He's soon taking his hands back out to gesture as he speaks. "You're always telling me how dangerous everywhere is. I thought you'd be happy that I was keeping up some kind of defensive training."

By Isidor's wince, she's unable, or unwilling, to argue that.

"Come on, Harrowheart," he says up to his friend. Once Harrowheart's stopped leaning on him he'll put some distance between them to get ready.

As soon as Viatorus is out of earshot, however, Isidor steps closer to Harrowheart. The height difference is suddenly irritatingly clear. That won't stop her from giving a hushed warning. "You hurt him and you'll be sorry."

Harrow knows when not to get between two bickering siblings, and so stays suspiciously well-mannered until Viatorus says his name. He nods and smiles at his friend and starts to step away, but it's not long before Isidor slides up to say her piece.

"Yes I would be," he says to her in all innocent sincerity. He would be sorry after all – not that Isidor knows (or believes) that.

He sets his stance like he's ready to physically grapple with Viatorus despite the distance between them. "Start in three... Two... One..." He's sure to count slowly enough that Viatorus has a moment to collect himself, just in case, and then... "Go!"

Without moving too quickly he sweeps his arm upwards, and just as before it draws that bubbling blackness up from the ground, heavy with the stench of rot. The spell is centered around Viatorus' feet and grows quickly in size. If he's fast enough he may be able to jump out of it, but if he's not, the oozy skeletal hands will grab him by the calves and ankles. Their grasp is strong, but not painfully so, and they tug with some strength to try to pull whatever they grab into the muck with them. Just as Harrow promised, though, the spell doesn't hurt or burn in any way. It doesn't even eat away at his clothes despite the way it destroyed the grass earlier.

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Last words of man shot to death

*his second death

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