driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: paisley crew + visitors
Broadcast: n/a
Action: ss paisley
When: november

[ hello paisley, it's mingle time ]

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[If she was learning anything about her new 'crew' it was that they seemed to be a bunch of incapable and constantly injured men. At least, that was her assessment of Anakin and now Theon as she came across him in the armory.

She'd wanted to come in and find something to replace her missing daggers, but instead she'd found this. The elf leaned against the wall by the door to watch him, uncaring if he noticed or not.

At least until she finally spoke up.]

This hardly seems like productive sparring. You seem more likely to injure yourself further than to gain anything.

[ He's certainly had a time of it. There are weapons scattered about, knives stabbed into targets and guns flung about like toys, but now, he's aiming arrow after arrow at the center of a target. His shot is quite good, but it doesn't quite make up for the fact that he isn't good at much else.

When Lark speaks, Theon doesn't so much as flinch. He merely fires another arrow and beings to nock another. This is clearly his environment. ]

That would be none of your business. What do you want?

If I am to rely on you in any capacity, it is my business. Those who injure themselves through foolishness are useless.

[Despite her words, her tone didn't hold as much judgement. At least he seemed to know what he was doing with the weapons he wielded.]

I need something to replace the daggers Atroma stole from me.

I didn't injure myself. [ He gives an indignant huff as he lets loose another arrow. ] I had a conversation with an old friend that didn't go as he would have liked. I allowed him to get a few strikes in.

[ Finally, he lowers his bow, expression grim. He really isn't lying about that. He's fought enough with Robb and he's grown tired of it. ]

As for your weaponry request, take your pick. You'll find them all there. [ He incline his head to the other target, into which various knives and daggers have been jabbed haphazardly. He's basically helped himself to the entire armory just to have his little tantrum. At least he's the one who's going to have to clean up after himself later. ]

I see.

[She did, she understood the intention behind it, even if she lacked the details to truly understand the situation.

She went to the dummy after a moment's hesitation. She didn't like to put her back to someone she didn't know, especially when they were armed and she wasn't. Still...she had to trust he wanted her injured about as much as she wanted it for him.

She plucked out some daggers, testing their weight and grip in her hands. The ones she rejected were soundly buried back in the dummy. After a moment, she spoke up again.]

I have something that could help with the swelling, if you're not too prideful. [A pause.] Or if you're not simply leaving your injuries for your friend's sake.

[She could understand that too, even if she disagreed.]

[ Luckily, he does lower his bow as she chooses her daggers. He has faith in his aim, but he also knows that he's angry and has no intention of hitting one of his crewmates. After all, none of them are particularly fond of him to begin with. ]

I'm fine.

[ His pride is definitely the answer here. He's returned to the ship injured so often that it's become commonplace. He rarely seeks out Stefan's medical skills anymore. The poor man has had to patch him up far too many times. ]

It isn't for his sake, but perhaps he'll sleep better for it. [ He shrugs. ] That's his business.

[She finally picks out two that feel right in her grip and wraps them in a cloth she'd brought. She'd have to sharpen and sheath them, but that was for later.]

And that is your business.

[She nodded to him, unwilling to do needless battle with a man's pride.

She headed for the door, intending to leave now that she had what she wanted, but paused near the entrance.]

Remind me your name? I did not care to know it before.

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