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@aimlessarchery
Python || Golden Deer Instructor @ TOA
"Hell, I’m no one special. Pa was a carpenter, and I’m less still. The only reason I joined the army was because it pays better. The world can rot so long as I’ve still got food on the table. Oh, but don’t worry! I’ll fight and all that noise. I’m nothing if not diligent. Ha ha ha.”
LINKS: [ about ] || [ stats ] || [ mun ] || [ thread tracker ]
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when you pet your cat and they are MYSTERIOUSLY WET
mission: infamous | sleepwalking prompt
His fist connects with someone, and in the following disengagement where distance is bought with several staggering steps backwards, Lukas has the chance to breathe. Awareness of his surroundings trickles in slowly -- outside, dark -- and then with more clarity the more he's able to take things in.
He squints, letting his arm drop from where it had been held out to create distance between him and--
"...Python?" His voice is still rough with sleep, but he's beginning to piece some things together. "What is...," he starts, pausing to take a steady breath and bring his thumb and forefinger up to the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, I'm trying to...understand. Did I strike you...?" It had happened before -- though it had been quite some time since an incident like this had occurred.
It's only when he pulls his hand back from his face that he realizes that tacky sensation has not gone away, and that it isn't just his clothes. It's darker in the dim light offered by the torches, but he knows blood when he sees it. His gaze flicks up to Python once more -- sees where his blow must have landed, the smear of blood there, but no other wounds to make sense of why there's so much blood.
He runs a thumb over the palm of his hand, feels no break, no injury; begins to check over himself fully.
"Python, am I the only person you've seen since you've been on watch? Any other activity at all?"
Relief floods through him and exits through a long exhale. Lukas is still covered in blood, but he sounds like himself. With his wits about him, Python’s trusted the man to lead him out of worse situations than this before.
“You were the first sight exciting enough to wake me up, myself.” He shrugs, still rubbing at the point where his friend’s fist had met his face. “Didn’t even see you slip out. Must’ve picked a door with a guard even lazier than me.”
Either that, or Luke was even rougher with that guy than he was with his good friend Python. That doesn’t seem likely, though. A ruckus that close to the house would’ve raised the alarm. Whatever trouble Lukas has gotten into tonight seems like it happened out past the earshot of the manor guards, by Python’s estimation.
“You were comin’ up from the south side of the road. Trail won’t be hard to follow, I imagine, given…” He dips his chin toward the mess that is Lukas’s clothing, “...Y'know.”
june activity
Skill Points
+1 Monthly
Total: 80
Allocated: Reason D -> Reason D+
make or break
(haha jk tho. unless...?)
Python drags out a heaving sigh. It’s not a surprising response, but he can still make a show of his disappointment.
“Suit yourself.” He raises a hand to lazily jut a thumb toward himself. “You ever curious about walking the paths of indulgence, you’re currently living with an expert. The more affordable kinds of indulgence, anyhow.”
His arm drops back down, and it along with the rest of him melt further into the floor. Eyes slip shut, and his mind sinks comfortably in the darkness too.
“Gotta say, this isn’t as bad a napping spot as it seems. Maybe I should get into the habit of taking you at your word, too.”
There's something about the tang of disappointment in Python’s response that Azama feels keenly in himself, but cannot well place.
"… I will have to keep that in mind."
The paths of indulgence…
Truly, the monk has never considered them overlong.
Never had reason to.
Hedgehog is set aside, and Azama shifts lightly, comfortably. He chuckles. "Of course. You're speaking to a seasoned professional in nap time etiquette and how-to."
Still, he can't help a jab:
"Your back will either love you or hate you - there will be no in between."
And with that warning, Azama settles one last time. He could drift off right about now, no problem.
This was nice.
And if he wormed a little closer mid-nap in subconscious search of warmth, of indulgence -
Who would blame him?
↣ End
your princess is in another castle
non-mission task | laundry day mishaps w/ Deirdre
"Pr-professor?" A Python clearly clad in her own dress is possibly the last person she would expect to find when she opens her door. He looks awfully ridiculous. The hem is far too short and her style is nothing like what she typically sees him wearing. But she is impressed with the casual confidence in which he presents himself.
"Did you not have anything else to wear?" She has to hold back a laugh as the absurdity of the situation begins to truly sink in. And she remembers their very first meeting. He had been dressed up then, too, the students in his class reenacting one of the worse moments of her life. "Or perhaps you are coming from another acting lesson?"
She smiles and opens the door wider. It had been upsetting then but she does not hold any ill will toward him. "You may come in if you would like. I would love to hear how you came upon my laundry," she adds with a laugh.
Far be it from him to refuse a shelter from the chill and the chuckling of passerby. Python sidles in past his lookalike for the day and finds himself a seat. If he has to be Deirdre for now he may as well get comfortable in her home, eh?
“I was hoping you knew. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of my trousers since I left ‘em out to dry.”
He hunches forward with an elbow propped on his lap and his chin propped in his hand, letting the weight of the effort from shouldering all of this nonsense show in full.
“Although now that you’ve mentioned it...my wannabe theater students have been looking into other kinds of trouble they can get into. Wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve started to dabble in clothing theft. ‘Specially if any of ‘em were displeased with their recent test scores.”
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when you pet your cat and they are MYSTERIOUSLY WET
mission: infamous | sleepwalking prompt
With the elite running paranoid about the possible reemergence of a specifically focused killer, it was no surprise that the church was offering assistance in the matter. Be it aiding in the investigation and trying to track down said killer, or by providing those that felt most threatened with bolstered defenses. It would hardly be the first time he'd carried out such duties, and having someone like Python along for the mission made things just that more routine.
At least, it should have been.
Lukas took on the daytime watches with several of the house's established guards, while Python covered the later hours with another group. While it kept them more or less split up, it did allow them to keep an eye out regardless of what time it was or where exactly they were stationed.
However, they had very little to show for their presence here. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred -- be it from the increased security, or because all of this was terrible coincidence paired with fearmongering.
After the patrolling guards had handed over their posts to the night shift, Lukas had gone through the motions before retiring to get some rest.
But something was...not right.
His clothing felt like it was clinging uncomfortably to him, tacky. It hadn't been hot enough to sweat in his sleep enough for this. In fact, it felt rather cool -- like there was a draft. It was a persistent, niggling discomfort that he couldn't keep focused in his mind long enough to properly address. A loop of drifting and then being reminded of the lurking wrongness--
Hands grasping at his arms, cold, sticking; a prying hiss of a voice from somewhere hazily close by. Unfocused eyes blearily blink to the waking world, brain struggling to understand where and when he was and only coming to grasp that he wasn't where he'd last remembered.
His reaction is sloppy and entirely instinctual, breaking away from the hands on him to take a wild swing before Lukas can process who it is in front of him.
With the strength behind that swing, Python counts himself lucky that he’s still both conscious and on his feet. His face doesn’t feel too blessed, though—pain radiates across his cheek and crawls behind his eye socket. A palm presses against the point of impact, leaving another smear of blood across his skin. (At least he’s fairly sure he hasn’t added his own to the mix. The ache is settling in enough to signal that Lukas was kind enough to miss the bridge of his nose.)
“Well good morning to you, too.” He croaks, regarding Lukas with his good eye. “Don’t mind me, just tryin’ to do my job…”
It seems unwise to touch his friend again, at least until he gets a better sign that he’s lucid. It also seems unwise to linger out in public with a man covered in bloodstains. A glance toward the street and another toward the manor he’s meant to guard confirm that they have the relative privacy of a late night for now. As a bonus, it confirms that moving his face around is going to hurt for a while.
“Could almost feel sorry for the stuck-up bastard you walloped back in the Deliverance,” he grumbles. Almost.
make or break
(haha jk tho. unless...?)
Hard-earned?
There's a twitch at the corner of Azama's mouth - amusement?
Hard-earned...
Bemusement, rather.
Or! Perhaps both. There are many ways in which the comment can be taken, most of which Azama can only assume after without asking for clarification.
Sat up, fingers run over the hedgehog's spines once more. Tip tap, one silent poke at a time. One thorn, and then another - the path travelled is precarious.
But it's only truly dangerous if he were to go at it with complete abandon.
"I cannot speak to experience on that point," he hums. "... Before you ask: no, it's not because of 'monk things'. Just... not a path yours truly has endeavoured to walk, before."
He scratches at fuzz on his chin, pensive.
Wry smile surfaces. Python is vulnerable right now. Payback would be so easily within reach.
"Suppose I will simply have to take your word for it, hm?"
Python drags out a heaving sigh. It’s not a surprising response, but he can still make a show of his disappointment.
“Suit yourself.” He raises a hand to lazily jut a thumb toward himself. “You ever curious about walking the paths of indulgence, you’re currently living with an expert. The more affordable kinds of indulgence, anyhow.”
His arm drops back down, and it along with the rest of him melt further into the floor. Eyes slip shut, and his mind sinks comfortably in the darkness too.
“Gotta say, this isn’t as bad a napping spot as it seems. Maybe I should get into the habit of taking you at your word, too.”
may activity
Skill Points
+1 Monthly
Total: 79
Allocated: Heavy Armor E -> Heavy Armor E+
[ SQUIRM ] - Some may recognize the blanket that’s been laid out in a momentarily-unoccupied corner of one of the dance halls. On it are rows of circles separated by color. Off to the side is a wooden board with an arrow pinned in the center and divided into four quadrants with colors and labels: right hand, right foot, left hand, left foot. Spin the arrow and put the respective appendage on the corresponding color. Just be careful not to step on any of your fellow players in the dark!
+ @viridescent-lance too!... unless he's scared to lose (:
"Pardon my reach."
The dry request is meant for Azama, but it's basically delivered into the back of Forsyth's head. The man seems to choose the path to that guarantees he stays at least partially sandwiched between Python and his Hoshidan friend for as many turns as he can.
On his way around both of their bodies to reach for his assigned right hand blue, Python most-definitely-accidentally knocks his elbow against the skull of his best-friend-slash-obstacle, just to push his face closer to the monk's. If he wants to get into the guy's personal space so bad, why not help him along?
[ CHOCOLATE ] - Stefanelli’s has partnered with the monastery to make the most of the supplies left in excess of their workshops earlier in the year by offering packages of sweet chocolates for attendees. The offerings appear generous… that is, until you open your box to find it only half full.
They might call it an honored tradition if it was intentional how Sara always happens to meet Python at events like these. This year, she won't overstay her welcome or drag him into a tedious conversation. There's only one matter she cares about and that shouldn't occupy much time assuming he cooperates.
Her eyes direct his attention to the table where Sara slowly and deliberately slides the box of chocolates his way. She looks at Lukas, her accomplice in this game, across the room as though that alone should clue Python in, awaiting a reaction. Even the smallest twitch of his face or hesitation to answer the following question could give him away and Sara will not miss it with the full force of her gaze resting on him.
"...Are you playing for the other team?"
The twitch in Python’s face is decidedly not small. His whole face contorts under the building bafflement that only gets worse the longer he tries to understand what the hell is even going on here.
He’s got a similar box he planned to give to Lukas himself, but that doesn’t explain why a strange little girl is pushing a second one on him. That first box, by the way, is for his birthday, and has nothing to do with…
Whatever. Python does not feel like putting the effort into describing what Lukas is to him, nor into puzzling out alternate meanings to odd questions. He’ll just give it to her straight.
“Look, if you’re trying to set something up, I’m not interested. My love life is complicated enough as it is. If Lukas wants in on that mess, he can tell me himself.”
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"oh, hello! if it isn't sir python!" silque offers the man a warm smile and drops into a shallow bow. "do you happen to be working hard, or hardly working, I wonder?"
not that he seems to be working at all; he's cleaned up far more nicely than she had ever seen him. and so she lifts her chin, scanning the room curiously with wide eyes---until she spots another familiar knight, in the same greens as the flower pinned to python's lapel.
"…ah, I see. so nothing's really changed, hmm?" she teases, bringing a hand up to cover her giggle.
Python follows Silque’s line of sight, though he can take a guess as to what she’s seen. His own eyes have drifted over to passively keep track of his old friend whenever they separate, same as usual.
“Same old, same old. As long as I’ve got that one working himself to death, it’s not like there’s much left for me to pick up after.”
He sighs, slumping forward like he’s been burdened with a heavy weight.
“Guess I’ll have to send a letter to the militia to let ‘em know we’ve lost a star healer up in the north. I’ll bet the monastery’s glad to have ya, though.” His slouch shifts, half-shielding his mouth from wandering eyes with an open palm as he continues, “If you thought the drama back home was rough, just wait ‘til you see some of the crap the highborns and weirdos get up to out here.”
(Those words are usually synonyms in his book, but he can't confirm that every weirdo he's dealt with has been a blueblood.)
[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don’t want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.
“Is he gonna be able to handle all that?”
Python leaves it purposely ambiguous as to which direction he means, gesturing toward the white-haired rogue with the eye-patch next to Python’s plus-one. It could go either way, as far as he can tell.
“Your husband, right?” And if his eyes light up a little and betray his nosiness, so be it. “There’s gotta be a story there.”
[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don’t want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.
"Uuuugh, I can't believe how many of us on the staff they've roped into guarding the tower this year. No idea what crawled up their butts about trespassing lately." His own shift had been short, but it had still meant standing out in the cold when he could've been anywhere else. He rubs his palms against his forearms to urge along the warmth slowly seeping back in.
"It's gotta be something worse than just students canoodling, right? I mean—" A nod is given toward a young man with a conspicuous smear of lip stain across his neck ducking in from the gardens, "There's still plenty of other places for that."
"Maybe they have skeletons in their Tower that they do not want the world to see." Mitama muses, far more concerned with inspecting her pastry than her blasphemy against the church.
After all, when she looks up, she just sees people like the man Python nods to, who earns nothing more than an unimpressed grimace from her.
"Or maybe they are just sensitive about their precious Tower seeing as it is the first year it is back in action, so to speak." It is hardly a concern for her, but she can understand why they might not be eager to have little lords and ladies under their guardianship slipping off to do the unthinkable. What would their parents say?
"If someone is determined enough, it would take more than the monastery to stop them I imagine." She pinches one of the sweet buns between her fingers and pops it into her mouth before offering Python the plate.
"Literal skeletons, you think? Would make it more interesting."
He takes one of the honey glazed buns and tears a piece of it from the rest. It leaves both of his hands sticky, but that's a future Python problem. Current Python is busy savoring the pleasant tang of dried berries.
"Seen it happen before. Undead crawlin' around tombs and holy sites." He shrugs lightly. "Even that wasn't enough to totally stop people from seeking a little alone time together, though. Guess the church is shit outta luck no matter what."
"what beautiful roses." edain looks up at their owner with a curious gaze. though her fellow professor is dressed up somewhat formally, she still would hardly link python with such elegant flowers. ".... you don't seem to be happy carrying them around, though. is there something wrong?"
“Nothin’ against the roses in particular. Just annoying needing to carry stuff around. My eyes tend to itch when there’s too many flowers around, too.”
He considers the bouquet in his hands with a disinterested, half-lidded gaze. If he had to choose a flower to carry around for a night, he probably wouldn’t pick roses. Kind of stuffy and romantic, aren’t they? The violets that grew in some of the fields where he grew up were prettier, in his opinion, but they’d still be a hassle.
It’s not like he has a say in it, anyhow. He pinches one of the blooms at the center of his cluster and pulls it free. “...I guess that does make it a little personal, huh? Why don’t you lighten my burden a little bit? They fit you better anyway.”
[ CORN ] - A new strain of corn has been bred in Bergliez with a curious trait—it pops when exposed to heat, becoming light and fluffy! Help yourself to a bag; it's a little bland on its own, but you get the feeling you could find something to spice it up.
"I think the people callin' this stuff boring just aren't getting creative enough with it. Check this out." Python doesn't reach for anything to add to the bag. No, he simply takes a single kernel from the bag and holds it between his thumb and forefinger. With a flick of the wrist, he tosses it in an arc that lands square in the center of a glass of champagne on the other side of the table. A nearby woman flinches away from the splash and gives him a glare. He laughs lowly and walks over to take his prize.
"Easy. Claim a drink from across the room."
Back beside Niles with drink now in hand, he tilts the bag of popcorn in the other outward in a silent offering.
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[ CHOCOLATE ] - Stefanelli's has partnered with the monastery to make the most of the supplies left in excess of their workshops earlier in the year by offering packages of sweet chocolates for attendees. The offerings appear generous... that is, until you open your box to find it only half full.
"Weird question, but are you doing anything with that box?"
Using a rose from his assigned bouquet, Python points at the treats in the girl's hands. "I'll trade you a flower for it. Don't need the chocolates inside or anything."
He ducks his head down and lowers his voice like he's sharing a secret, though he's too careless about it for it to seem truly dire. "Friend of mine has a birthday happening and I was way too lazy to find somethin' to fit his gift in."
[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don’t want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.
"Uuuugh, I can't believe how many of us on the staff they've roped into guarding the tower this year. No idea what crawled up their butts about trespassing lately." His own shift had been short, but it had still meant standing out in the cold when he could've been anywhere else. He rubs his palms against his forearms to urge along the warmth slowly seeping back in.
"It's gotta be something worse than just students canoodling, right? I mean—" A nod is given toward a young man with a conspicuous smear of lip stain across his neck ducking in from the gardens, "There's still plenty of other places for that."
