Three On A Match
⁂ Third on a match. Meaning: bad luck.


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Autumn

Enjoy the turning leaves and the crisp weather before it gets too cold.


Change in Engagement
Exchange PI 


Late evening
Training rooms
#1
Theo Crowhurst Offline
Cursed Human
Dolor
Outfit + Feder

The impact of the feder against the body of the pell was loud in the training room, its solid stone walls bouncing the sound around. It was a spacious area, a central area for sparring, and along one wall a line of pell's standing ready. Racks of different feders and various other training swords hanging along one wall, and pegs held a few spare pieces of training gear, matching what Theo wore. A black padded gambeson, reinforced gloves, and black fencing helmets, although Theo had left his sitting on one of the tables against the wall rather than wearing it. The door into the training room was open, a silent message that anyone was welcome, but this late few were looking to train.

Theo was focused on his swordwork, moving from one manoeuvre to the other smoothly, blow followed by blow on the pell, a thick wooden pole wrapped in thick rope, two faux arms extending from the central column, imitating an opponent. He swung his feder in an aggressive diagonal cut, a step back, a thrust, stepping in close again, ramming the pommel into the pell, stepping back, swinging low for centre mass. He'd studied the manuals, Liechtenauer, Talhoffer, Meyer, Fiore, Vadi, the French schools, and even the modern masters, and by now it all melded into muscle memory and habit. He knew what worked, what didn't, and how best to use most blades in his hands.

Few in the cohort practised swords as obsessively as he did, leaving him often without a sparring partner. He'd considered finding a HEMA club, but he barely had the time for the odd rugby game he joined with the local club, and he wasn't so sure he'd have the patience for the pedantry found in sporting circles when he practised for life and death situations. The rugby kept him sane when his daily life was trolls, curses, and spells, so he kept it up and got into the habit of making do with what he had. He never turned down a spar, after all.

Theo landed a particularly hard blow with a grunt, the force shaking his arms, and he finally backed off. The tip of his feder drooped, the Englishman lifting an arm to swipe at the sweat on his brow, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He still had plenty in him to keep going, but his weariness went beyond the physical. He'd had a rough few months, injuries that would have benched a mundane human, but Theo couldn't afford to stop, so healing magics kept him going. His ribs did not twinge, burnt skin was gone as if it'd never been there. His hair was shorter, now, because even healing magic couldn't grow back hair. He was likely the most fit forty-year-old in the city, well-trained and magically healed. Cheating, in a sense, but Crowhursts had always been long-lived and healthy, at least among those who didn't die by the sword. Was that genetics or the magic they pretended not to deal with?

Bracing the tip of the feder against the floor, Theo held the hilt with both hands as he bowed over it, forehead resting on the pommel. He drew in another deep breath, remaining where he was in a parody of prayer. In the back of his mind, a voice reminded him that the door was open. Anyone could walk in and witness their Inquisitor being morose, momentarily worn down mentally even if he was in top form physically. Just a moment more, he promised himself, and then he'd get back to swinging at the pell.
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#2
Asphodel Malvolia Offline
Vampire Undying
Charnel
Outfit

As might be expected, for Asphodel, this was not a late night, but an early start. More than that, the vampire had worked through the past day as well, safe in the sunless shadows of the archive and had only just started to consider venturing out into the evening to find her meal. Exhaustion was no object, neither was the lack of focus long work hours might bring humans--the only thing that limited her in these circumstances was the need for blood. The tireless working undead, that was her. It kept her busy.

Still, she was, admittedly, a little stiff when she rose from behind her desk, neatly shuffling her papers and notebooks aside. After she worked some metaphorical warmth back into her limbs, she emerged from her office lair to speak with her archivists as they ended their shifts for the day. The night would be quiet, but she'd come to relish those uninterrupted hours.

With assignments and projects set aside for the day and checklists written for the morning, the vampire saw her gaggle of young--to-her--proteges to the stairs. Then, she returned to the grand doors of the archive to close and lock them while she was away. It would only be for a few hours at most, and she did not expect any agents to come down in a hurry looking for ancient grimoires in that time.

Of course, she'd been wrong before, but there were others with the keys, such as the Inquisitor. They might open the archives, although it was at their own risk. Its' vampire guardian would know if something was out of place, not to mention the more mundane horrors that lurked in its depths.

Speaking of the Inquisitor-- It was on her way back to the stairs that she caught wind of combat. Not surprising with the training rooms down the hall from the archives, but she recognized Theo's scent. Clasping her keyring, she paused to listen, and found only one heartbeat. Training by himself again, she supposed.

Going against her better judgement, which always seemed to be the case around the Inquisitor, Asphodel allowed herself to be diverted. Shadowing the open door, the vampire was surprised to find the man in a moment of stillness. With Theo bowed over the feder where it was braced against the training mat, it occurred to her that she might be interrupting something. What, she couldn't know, but he had the air of a man who didn't expect to be seen. A shame--he presented an imposing, handsome sight Asphodel was certain most women would not have the opportunity to admire unless they went to those awful 'renaissance fairs'. And even then, the men who took up swords there were just a faint imitation of what a man with armor and a blade could look like.

For the briefest of moments, she considered leaving him in peace. That urge passed, but neither did she break the quiet with something insipid like she might've early in their acquaintance.

“Late night for you, isn't it?” Asphodel ventured, her voice pleasant but amused as she stepped into the training room to idly scan the array of training swords. She wasn't moving with purpose, having no intention of coming over to spar, but she was curious about what the man was training with.
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#3
Theo Crowhurst Offline
Cursed Human
Dolor
When Asphodel's words broke the silence, Theo didn't startle. He did straighten up, turning to take her in, her voluminous skirts at odds with where they were. She had not sought out the doorway to train if her skirts were any indication. He shifted his grip on the feder's hilt, leaning on it more casually, as he braced one hand on his hip. It was a frankly casual pose, belying his heavy thoughts from a moment earlier.

“Early for you,” Theo countered, letting a slow smile flit over his lips. He tracked her movement as she stepped into the room, watching her look over the spacious room. She moved with the relaxed ease of someone who had no intention of picking up a sword. The Englishman wondered why she'd approached, but knew it could be professional intent or her insistence on needling him. Although, there had been less of that since he'd outmanoeuvred her in his office. Things had shifted, but he wasn't entirely certain of what had changed.

After a moment, he answered properly, letting out a barely there sigh. “Felt the need to train. It's been too long.” In truth, it wasn't too long since last, but he had felt restless all day, imagining phantom pains that weren't there anymore.
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#4
Asphodel Malvolia Offline
Vampire Undying
Charnel
It was pleasant, Asphodel decided, to see Theo smile when she appeared rather than scowl. She smirked at his counter. Something had shifted between them, and for the better, even if it was at the cost of her secrecy. A voice in the back of her head quietly reminded her that this was not as good as it seemed—the man was a mortal and would fade with time. It was only good for now.

But Asphodel had learned long ago that contemplating eventualities would only drive her mad. She was actually very good at living in the moment, and she actively decided to enjoy this one. Theo was pleased to see her—or he did not mind seeing her—and that was that.

Her meandering path along the line of training swords and other weapons led her to walk behind the training dummy, putting it between them. Stepping closer to it, she looked up it’s length before patting the tortured padding, snickering a little as she looked over at him. “This looks like a real challenge,” she teased drily. “Couldn’t get anyone else to swing swords around with you?”
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#5
Theo Crowhurst Offline
Cursed Human
Dolor
Theo quirked an eyebrow as Ash strolled through the room, following her progress as she made her way around to the pell. At her tease, he scoffed lightly, even if half of her statement was true. He hadn't found someone to spar, but drills had their place in practice, a cornerstone to the skill, even if spars could be counted as more exciting. The challenge was different from a spar against a live body, but he had been wishing for that kind of challenge.

“It's a different challenge from a spar, for a different purpose,” Theo pointed out, reasonable in the face of her teasing, although his tone was just as dry as hers. “But you're right, no one volunteered for a spar. Unless you want to drop the skirts for a bout.” His smile tipped into a smirk, a challenging tilt to his head as he watched her behind the pell.

Ash had been a good opponent the last time they'd crossed swords, but they hadn't repeated it since. No real reason, as he didn't think it was a skill Ash found the need for often. Maybe it had more to do with how she'd ended up feeding on him at the end, as fuzzy as his memory was on the details, he did remember his offer.
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#6
Asphodel Malvolia Offline
Vampire Undying
Charnel
Theo began to explain, very reasonably, and Asphodel's pale eyelashes flickered as she began to roll her eyes. She knew that. Obviously. Still, it was all in jest, his tone just as dry as hers. Her demeanor changed when he turned it all around into a challenge. She was, of course, intrigued.

The vampire exhaled softly, stepping around the pell and propping her hands on her hips as she considered the man. She mirrored his smirk. They hadn't sparred again in years now, although they'd seen combat together often enough. It was a somewhat even match-up, between his skill and her strength; enough to make it fun.

“I can sword fight in a skirt, you know!” she informed him, amused, twisting her hips to let the silky skirt flare out and twist around her legs before swishing the other way. “Time was, I didn't have any other options.”
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#7
Theo Crowhurst Offline
Cursed Human
Dolor
Theo glanced down at her skirts for a moment, before flicking them back up to her face as she spoke. He was sure she could, but he didn't think that meant the skirt would keep its integrity for the fight. He was familiar enough with his own family's history to know women's fashion was oft cursed by those who preferred the sword, but at least now trousers were the norm rather than an oddity. Even the fully armoured depictions of historical and mythical women in the French manuscripts had them in flowing skirts and dresses.

He lifted the blunted tip of his feder, reaching out with it to catch the hem of the skirts swishing around Ash's legs. “You're a regular La Maupin,” Theo said, just a tinge sardonically, as he lifted the hem a measure more. “But that delicate fabric won't hold up to even blunted steel, but suit yourself. I won't be listening to your whining if it tears.”
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#8
Asphodel Malvolia Offline
Vampire Undying
Charnel
Asphodel got the distinct impression that Theo was in his element. There was an air of comfort about him that didn't exist when she came across him all buttoned up in his nice suits, or even when he was out in the field, commanding his agents, fighting what he fought best.

He looked at home in his training gear, with a sword in hand. And he smiled like it too, even going so far as to catch the flaring edge of her skirt with the tip of his feder. She felt the breeze on her knees as he lifted the skirt by a few more inches than before, and she didn't hide her surprise. It was a mild expression, a little bounce of her pale eyebrows, and a curious tilt to her smile. Still watching Theo, she reached down and brushed at the fabric, unhooking it from the tip of his training sword, and letting it fall back to its natural position.

“Oh, you might not be listening, but you'll hear it anyway,” she replied with a grin, undaunted by the warning.

She turned about to take a good look at the wall of training equipment. Stepping forward, she pulled free a training sword that was about the same height and weight as Theo's. It was no challenge for her supernatural strength, but ill-fitting for her stature. Still, she considered it--they'd broken her blade the last time they sparred.
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#9
Theo Crowhurst Offline
Cursed Human
Dolor
Theo saw he'd caught her by surprise, even if the expression was subtle, barely a shift. Her standard was looking like a smug cat, so he'd learnt to spot when he got under her skin, whatever way he did. Today it was surprise, but he knew he was being more forward than usual, his own restlessness feeding into it.

All she did was flick her hem off the tip of the sword, and Theo let the blade drop to point at the ground, held loosely as she declared his lack of listening wouldn't impact her complaints. Cocking his head, the Englishman allowed himself a small smirk, letting the silence reign as Ash's attention shifted to the training swords.

She hadn't said it outright, but it was clear enough she intended to cross swords with him, so he watched as she studied the feeder's on offer. She selected one that didn't suit her stature, but matched his. The weight didn't matter, Theo reminded himself, even as the urge to point it out rose. She had the strength to compensate for an ill-fitting sword, the knowledge too.

They were well matched, but Theo still wanted more of a challenge. To push himself, but in what ways could he do that outside of actual fucking combat?

“Would you be interested in upping the ante?” Theo mused, surprising himself by speaking before he'd thought it through. He fixed her with an evaluative stare, thinking of that disastrous Halloween. Maybe...
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#10
Asphodel Malvolia Offline
Vampire Undying
Charnel
A quick sweep of the sword revealed no obvious flaws that might lead to break. Then again, the Exchange didn't keep poor quality training weapons, they'd just been particularly rough on the blade. Out of range of the training dummy, Asphodel gave the sword a few test swings, but decided the balance was too much to compensate for.

It was as she was sliding it back into place that Theo's question had her glancing over at him. “Always,” she said, without hesitation, an intrigued smile curling one corner of her mouth. She lifted her pale eyebrow as she browsed down the line of training weaponry again. Upping the ante was what kept life for an immortal interesting. “What do you have in mind?”
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#11
Theo Crowhurst Offline
Cursed Human
Dolor
The lack of hesitation as she answered struck Theo, even if she could survive most things a hostile world could throw at her. She'd never come across as a risk taker, not for the thrill of it, at least. Asphodel seemed to feel more irritated and inconvenienced when something disrupted her normally so unruffled appearance, although he couldn't claim she was precious about it when push came to shove. He noted it, anyway, and wondered.

She prompted him to elaborate as she continued looking at the training sword, perhaps holding off on her choice in case what he said next changed it. “A no holds barred spar, as they say,” he began, watching her. “Any magic or tricks you can think of using. Even that narcotic of yours, although I'd prefer it if you didn't spit on me, however tempting.”

Theo said it casually enough, but it was still crude to say, even as he smirked a little as he anticipated her reaction. His only experience with it was through saliva. He was sure she was inventive enough to stay away from hocking a loogie at him. As for his own magic, he didn't even consider it. The point was, after all, to challenge his swordsmanship and endurance, not his magical ability. He'd blow a hole in a wall with his luck, anyway.
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#12
Asphodel Malvolia Offline
Vampire Undying
Charnel
The vampire didn't think too hard about her breezy acceptance, if at all, but it was not the sort of thing she extended to just anybody. At some point, Theo had wormed his way deep into her confidence, and it made her tolerant. Indulgent, even.

Still, as might be expected, Asphodel's nose crinkled in distaste. Spitting on him! The vampire didn't have to say anything to make her displeasure known, her pursed-lipped expression conveying all of her thoughts on the matter in face of his smirk.

“That's not quite no holds barred, is it?” she replied, snidely pedantic, but letting an amused smirk slide across her red lips. The whole suggestion was unexpected, but oddly exciting enough to get her heart thumping twice in one minute She ought not feel so intrigued. After all, this was a Crowhurst. What vampire crossed swords with a vampire hunter for fun? Her, apparently.

Folding her hands behind her back, Asphodel stepped out from behind the training dummy, eyes now on Theo as she strolled toward him. She didn't approach him directly, instead starting in a vaguely predatory circle around him while they discussed. “But in that vein, I'd thank you not to blast me with sunlight.”
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