Peter Pevensie (
of_northern_skies) wrote in
hugtopia_logs2020-03-05 10:49 pm
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Entry tags:
When the lights fade out
♥ Who: Peter and you!
♥ Where: Ainea's temple -> Empty space near the basic housing.
♥ When: Early Ainir, while a certain Lucis Caelum is passed out
♥ What: Fretting. And sparring. But mostly fretting.
♥ Rating: PG-13 due to violence against blankets. And maybe a few choice words.
Morning I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you
By most reasoning, Peter was still new to this place. Two months was not long in the over all scheme of things, at least not according to him. He was a king, his view point had to be farther sighted than most. As such, he'd taken his time to ease into this place and it's particular brand of chaos, watching the days go by until he started to recognize faces and patterns and smiles. He dipped his toes into social gatherings and made idle chit chat, but mostly he kept to himself and his brother in the small 'townhouse' that they'd been given.
Like most things in life, there was always an exception to the norm and in Peter's that exception had come in the bright smile and mischievous green eyes of one Regis Lucis Caelum. The man was a pleasure to be around and Peter had grown close to him. So when he'd learned that his friend was ill the news had hit him hard.
Ainea's temple was strange to him, but it's halls had become less so as he visited. Every day he came, first thing in the morning, sitting on the edge of the bed his friend was laid out on and holding his hand. Sometimes he told Regis about the day before or about Edmund's latest knowledge dump. Sometimes he told him about the dreams he'd had, usually of Narnian summers and the smell of warm salt air. Sometimes he just sat quietly.
Really, he was bound to run into someone from Regis' life sooner rather than later, but he'd take his chances and deal with it when the situation arose.
Afternoon But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
Very early in his kingship, Peter had learned a very important lesson. Emotions could not be hidden. They had to be dealt with and worked through in order for them to become and remain an ally to someone as instinctual as himself. Bottling up pain, anger, or fear only served as a stopper between his mind and his body. As such, Oreius had spent many a day teaching him how to work through that stopper and free what he'd been afraid to feel.
It made him a good king and a better man.
Here was no different. Watching Regis lay on that bed, so quiet and still, left him off kilter and restless. That coupled with the lack of training space had called for drastic measures. A place nearby had been found that was mostly empty. A request for more bedding, the worst quality the natives had to offer preferably. A wire to wrap everything together and then it was just a matter of climbing up the lamp post to hang the bundle of bedding. It wasn't as steady as a proper dummy, but it would offer feedback and a target.
Afternoons found him at his new training grounds, sword in both hands for once as he worked through each guard position with the kind of fluid grace that only came with years of experience. Vom tag, ochs, pflug, alber, back to vom tag over and over until his muscles felt warm and loose under his skin. He added footwork, taking sure and solid steps as he circled his 'foe'.
Regis had been so still.
Vom tag, ochs, pflug, alber and this time he added an oberhaw, striking out at the hanging bundle of bedding with a cry that was far more ragged than he cared to admit.
♥ Where: Ainea's temple -> Empty space near the basic housing.
♥ When: Early Ainir, while a certain Lucis Caelum is passed out
♥ What: Fretting. And sparring. But mostly fretting.
♥ Rating: PG-13 due to violence against blankets. And maybe a few choice words.
Morning I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you
By most reasoning, Peter was still new to this place. Two months was not long in the over all scheme of things, at least not according to him. He was a king, his view point had to be farther sighted than most. As such, he'd taken his time to ease into this place and it's particular brand of chaos, watching the days go by until he started to recognize faces and patterns and smiles. He dipped his toes into social gatherings and made idle chit chat, but mostly he kept to himself and his brother in the small 'townhouse' that they'd been given.
Like most things in life, there was always an exception to the norm and in Peter's that exception had come in the bright smile and mischievous green eyes of one Regis Lucis Caelum. The man was a pleasure to be around and Peter had grown close to him. So when he'd learned that his friend was ill the news had hit him hard.
Ainea's temple was strange to him, but it's halls had become less so as he visited. Every day he came, first thing in the morning, sitting on the edge of the bed his friend was laid out on and holding his hand. Sometimes he told Regis about the day before or about Edmund's latest knowledge dump. Sometimes he told him about the dreams he'd had, usually of Narnian summers and the smell of warm salt air. Sometimes he just sat quietly.
Really, he was bound to run into someone from Regis' life sooner rather than later, but he'd take his chances and deal with it when the situation arose.
Afternoon But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
Very early in his kingship, Peter had learned a very important lesson. Emotions could not be hidden. They had to be dealt with and worked through in order for them to become and remain an ally to someone as instinctual as himself. Bottling up pain, anger, or fear only served as a stopper between his mind and his body. As such, Oreius had spent many a day teaching him how to work through that stopper and free what he'd been afraid to feel.
It made him a good king and a better man.
Here was no different. Watching Regis lay on that bed, so quiet and still, left him off kilter and restless. That coupled with the lack of training space had called for drastic measures. A place nearby had been found that was mostly empty. A request for more bedding, the worst quality the natives had to offer preferably. A wire to wrap everything together and then it was just a matter of climbing up the lamp post to hang the bundle of bedding. It wasn't as steady as a proper dummy, but it would offer feedback and a target.
Afternoons found him at his new training grounds, sword in both hands for once as he worked through each guard position with the kind of fluid grace that only came with years of experience. Vom tag, ochs, pflug, alber, back to vom tag over and over until his muscles felt warm and loose under his skin. He added footwork, taking sure and solid steps as he circled his 'foe'.
Regis had been so still.
Vom tag, ochs, pflug, alber and this time he added an oberhaw, striking out at the hanging bundle of bedding with a cry that was far more ragged than he cared to admit.
Afternoon, of course
Thinking like that is not going to do a damned thing for Edmund. But he knows all too well that a hanging target will not be nearly enough for Peter to really vent his emotions. Edmund doesn't have all of his skills, perhaps, but he has his blades and that is enough for now. He really needs to invest in some armor, especially if they're going to keep training like this.
Peter strikes, falls back into his positions, one after another... And the next strike doesn't thump against fabric but instead clashes against another blade, a skillful parry but predictable. He pushes back against Peter's sword, waits for him to ease off before settling back on his heels.]
His friend awoke after some time, I'm sure he will too.
[He shifts his weight, kicking Peter's shield towards him. It falls flat a foot or two ahead of him, between them. There but not as easily accessible as it could be. A clear challenge. Take it if you can, Brother.]
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He'd noticed his brother's approach in some back part of his mind, but he hadn't expected the sudden clash of metal against metal. He'd known that the blades had come with Ed, but he hadn't thought that Ed would use them. Not in the body that he'd been brought in. Surely they'd be overly large and cumbersome, made for a man with all his height and bulk already on his bones.
Of course, that had never stopped Ed from trouncing him when they were children.
Easing back onto his heels, he started up a slow circle with his shield between them.]
And if he doesn't?
[He lunged, feinting an overhead swing only to whip his sword down to slash at the air against Ed's legs. With luck, it would force the younger back enough for him to be able to kick his shield back over to his own 'side'.]
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.....Okay, so maybe climbing up to perch on the dangling bundle of blankets isn't quite the ceiling. But The Great Outdoors doesn't have a ceiling to lurk from, so it's close enough! And he's pretty sure it's not really eavesdropping if they're having this conversation in public where anyone who passes by can listen in. Right? Nothing shady here at all.
He just couldn't help but notice a very animated fight going on. And as a self-respecting trainer constantly striving to be the very best of the best
like noone ever was, how can he not stop and spectate, and see if he can pick up any ideas of his own from their fighting styles and strategies?He's just going to lurk until either he's spotted or they tire themselves out sparring. Sorry, boys.]
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That single strike does leave him open for a fleeting moment if Peter is able to adjust his footing to follow as Edmund pushes through that strike. Rotating as he moves to try to flank Peter. If the larger man isn't quick about it he'll soon find Edmund between him and his shield. Rather the opposite of what he wanted.
The question gets no response. Edmund knows better. There are no words that Peter would take heart in right now. Aslan himself would be hard pressed to calm the High King's anxieties. It's exactly those worries that allow Edmund to lay a blade on his brother so swiftly. The sharp sting of that blow will do more to hone Peter's focus than any words possibly could.]
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It wasn't any other day.
Edmund pressed his advantage and Peter completely missed Will's presence as he grunted, the impact of Ed's blade a sharp and sudden reminder of the here and now. His brother was right, the sting of the impact was a better lesson than any words and Peter didn't even think before he was shifting his weight so that he could reach out with his right foot to hook his ankle around the smaller man's.]
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Edmund's feet shoot out from under him with an almost comical ease, the boy seeming to hover for a fraction of a second before he slams down onto his back. It is not soft spring grass beneath him but the unforgiving strength of concrete. His vision blurs, the air punched from his lungs. There's a delay, the briefest of seconds, two, three, then he's rolling, one blade knocked from his hand but the other held tight. Away then up to one knee then to his feet.
It is smooth and precise and his muscles know the motions even if his eyes can't keep up with the way the world tilts dangerously. He keeps his feet even though he's clearly unsteady, blinking hard as though he can merely will the dizziness away. He knows how to fall better than that, to use the motion, the roll backwards and be on his feet again before his opponent can really finish their turn.
But this wasn't any other day and instead he finds his gaze drifting off center, unable to focus on his brother just yet, an unexpected flash of violet over his brothers shoulder adding distraction to what might be a mild concussion. He's had worse. Much worse. Even just in play he's been dealt worse. He knows what happened but what he doesn't know is...]
What are you doing up there?
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Pivoting on the ball of his outside foot, he squared the huge golden shield into place in front of him. It was heavy and solid and he took the first deep breath since leaving Regis' side. His eyes were calmer as he focused them on his brother, taking in the signs of concussion and hurt...but he knew better than to call the fight there. Edmund would never allow it.
Except, maybe he wouldn't have a choice.
Turning on his heel, he lowered his shield in favor of tilting his head at the man who was oh so slightly swaying on his makeshift training dummy.]
Umm..
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[Will waves from his perch, as though this is the most natural thing in the world. Why shouldn't they have an audience? Why shouldn't he get a Pidgeot's eye view of the action.]
You two are really something. Are you okay?
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Brother he may be but he is also Peter's opponent right now and the fact that he would so willfully offer him his back is outright insulting.
He's on his feet again in a moment, crossing swiftly to where his brother stands, even taking the time to grab his other blade. He could force Peter back into position, give him another stinging blow with the flat of his blade over a vital place. A reminder not to dismiss him so easily. But he is also curious about the violet-haired man so the only retaliation Peter gets is the side of one blade whipping down to swat him across the ass instead.
No damage there, just humiliation.]
I know Orieus has taught you better than to turn your back on an opponent.
[Edmund nods towards Will, still angling himself so he can watch Peter in his peripheral vision.]
I'll be fine, thank you.
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Edmund's acknowledgment of Will had thrown him off kilter, however. Between Ed's swimming eyes and sudden change of focus, he let his guard down. Not because he didn't think Ed could keep fighting, but because he'd thought that acknowledging Will had been Ed's way of requesting a few seconds to get his head back together.
He'd been wrong.
Ed's sword whipped across his ass and Pete let out a sharp yelp, followed by a low hiss through clenched teeth. Nothing had cut, of course, but Peter had no doubt that he'd have a very peculiar looking bruise in a few hours. Like cart tracks.]
He'll be fine.
[And that last was accompanied not by a sword slash, but by a shield bash. Slower, but much harder to avoid.]
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Sorry, sorry. Go on, don't let me distract you!
[Will makes a gesture that's equal parts apologetic wave and shooing gesture. If either of them had wanted an official time out, they would have said so, right? Ed has pretty clearly demonstrated he's not too badly off, so he won't worry or meddle any further.]
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It's hardly the first time we'd ha- [The word gets cut off as the breath is knocked from him, staggering to the side as Peter shoulder checks him with that shield. He scowls, brings one hand up to hover in front of his mouth before he thinks better of it. The expression on his face is almost comical how miserable it is. But then he spits to the side, blood splattering the stones at his feet and he's not quite willing to close his mouth completely.
Thanks, Brother. Now he's bit his lip and split it open.
The grip on his blades shifts, adjusting to better accommodate his stance and he faces Peter head on. Sorry Will, he has to kick his brother's ass before they can talk, apparently.]
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He didn't apologize. He grinned and flashed Will a wink before he was backing up to make sure their tussle wouldn't accidentally spill over on the innocent bystander.]
If you want to talk, talk. If you want to teach me lessons, then hit me.
[For what it was worth, he'd finally been knocked out of his own head. All the worry and emotions about Regis were instead funneled into his body, his mind settling into the spar with a pleasant familiarity.]
If you can, that is.
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[Ed starts to smirk but it is stifled as the stretch of his lip stings and sends even more blood into his mouth. For a moment he simply circles, Peter, watching him settle into himself, knowing that there will be no more distractions.
Good.
And then he rushes forward, a feint easily blocked by the shield, another strike meant to slide into the gap created by that reaction. He doesn't stay still long enough to see if that blow hits, sidestepping, giving back some of the space he had taken from Peter. If it were a lesser opponent he could drive forward, force them to yield with a series of quick strikes but he must allow some space if only to avoid getting hit by Peter again. Even at his best Edmund could only withstand a few blows from the larger man. Precision vs Power.]
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[Edmund moved and Peter moved with him, grunting as that first blade impacted his shield and was parried off to the side with ease. The second blow hit, but Peter didn't run from it. Instead, he bared his teeth in much the same way as the Lion on his shield would have done and pushed forward to keep that gap closed.
If he let Edmund have the space to plan, he'd be 'dead' in a matter of minutes. Power and stamina was his advantage and he used it as he brought his sword down hard on the meat of Edmund's hip. He kept his shield squarely between them, knowing full well that he'd scored the point only because Ed was getting used to his 'new' old body.]
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Peter followed him and Edmund's expression shifted from one of concentration to sly amusement. Yes, perfect. Peter was moving forward as he swung down so the only thing Edmund had to do was stop moving for the larger man to overreach, just slightly, just enough so that when Edmund brought his own sword down, blade angled out away from them both, the hilt smashed into Peter's wrist. He wasn't in his full armor but even if he had been the dull point on the hilt would have dug in between the plates.
If he was lucky, Peter would drop his sword. If he didn't have enough force behind it the other man's hand was still pinned to his hip so that when he rolled his wrist, swinging his blade around it laid over the length of Peter's arm, blade tapping lightly against his throat. It wouldn't be enough to decapitate him if they'd been in battle, not enough momentum, but certainly enough to debilitate him.
Tap tap. A cocked brow as if to say "Try again, Brother?" and then Edmund was pushing playfully against Peter's shield, backing up a few steps, falling into position to defend once more.]
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He'd bleed out in a matter of minutes.
Pulling back, he lowered his shield as he bent to force his hand back around the hilt of his weapon.]
By the Lion! You could have broken my wrist!
[Which was to say that he was fully ready to go again, as proven by the way he brought his shield up and gave his arm one last shake before falling into position as well.]
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[Utterly unfazed by Peter's outrage. You concussed him, brother. Fair's fair.
This time Edmund knows better, speed and surprise are his advantages. Best to let Peter build up his own momentum so that he can use it against the larger man. So for now, he waits, light on his feet, swords held loosely but ready. Too much tension will make the wait work against him.]
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Eyeing his brother's patient stalking, Peter took a few minutes for his arm to fully recover it's usage before he moved. Two quick steps forward, shield up and ready..and at the last minute he pivoted hard, swinging his arm in a tight arc to strike Ed's thigh.]
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It's... not a surprise.
Edmund dodges, not back or away but below, diving into one shoulder before rolling neatly back to his feet now a step and a half to Peter's right. There's a moment where his body is moving before his vision has entirely caught up, an unfortunate side effect of the concussion. One arm tucking neatly behind his back, sword laid up across his shoulder as he swings with the other, a swift blow aimed for the back of Peter's right shoulder. ]
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For a man his size, he ducked Edmund's sword with surprising ease. Coming up on the other side of it, he brought his shield up to connect with the meat of his brother's forearm, trusting the heavy metal to do it's job as he once more pivoted and brought his sword back to lay across Ed's hip.
Tap tap.]
Daresay it's a bit hard to fight when you're missing a leg, Brother.
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Fine. Fine.
The fact that Edmund doesn't sass him is evidence that he's done playing as well, circling back around Peter, watching him carefully as they reset once more. Edmund doesn't quite wait for Peter this time. The first step Peter takes forward Edmund matches, swift and agile, skidding just barely off center, one strike to push his sword down, offhand blade ringing against the stone, pinning Peter's sword in the space between Edmund's boot and blade. Another strike, not a slash but a lunge, trying to force Peter to chose between dropping his blade or taking the strike to his belly.
He wouldn't actually hurt his brother but he also knew better than to hesitate or let him believe for even a second that he wouldn't do it.]
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And that was how it went. They knew each other's styles well enough that they could spar nearly as hard as they would actually fight, blades hitting and clashing together hard enough to numb the arm but anything that actually hit flesh was twisted just enough to leave only welts or bruises. Maybe a few small, shallow cuts, but those were few and far between considering the ferocity and skill with which they fought.
And almost all of them were bore by Peter pushing a move that Ed hadn't foreseen. His power was his advantage, but his flow of thought style helped.
In the end, when both of them were sweating despite the crisp spring day and their air came in sharp, controlled breaths, Peter wasn't the winner. He was the larger man, the one that most would have put their money on...but in the end, he took a knee, planted his shield on the stone and leaned over it while holding up a hand.]
I yield, my King. Thank you.
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He obligingly waits until Peter yields--to his king? Now that's interesting--, but once the victory is taken, they'll find themselves receiving a hearty round of applause. Bravo!]
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Only once Peter is on his feet will he turn towards Will, sheathing his blades and offering a dramatic bow, one arm crossed over his chest in something that vaguely resembles a salute, though they have nothing quite so formal in Narnia.]
I hardly expected to have an audience. I would have worn something far flashier if I'd known we were to be a spectacle.
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There was a barely audible huff of relief when the heavy metal was settled on the ground instead of on his arm....but he was quick to turn it in a snort of amusement.]
You mean like the Telmarine thing you have lurking in your closet? Honestly brother. If you had word it, you would have lost.
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[Clearly he would just swoon and fall straight from the spot! The most appreciative audience, right here.]
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Will's commentary gets an odd look from Edmund, curious, nearly embarrassed but then he's glancing back at Peter, then to Will, then raising one brow with a devious smirk.]
Why, Brother. It seems as though your hard-won physique has already earned you an admirer.
[Yes, much better to take the piss out of his brother than acknowledge how much he hates his body right now. Mmmhmm. Yep.]
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Yes, well. Hard-won it might be, it is currently...indisposed.
[Unfortunate, because Peter's next action was to reach up over his head to his back and pull off his shirt in one easy motion. There was a chill in the air that felt wonderful on his over heated skin and he was really hoping that Edmund would miss the wince as the shirt came off his left shoulder.
Honestly though, it wouldn't be that surprising to see someone as beat up as Peter Pevensie to wince. Not even including the new cuts that Ed had landed. Scars littered his torso, most nothing more than ragged white puckers across his sides, but a few were rather impressive.]
Is he awake, or were you just wanting to voyeur?
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Times aren't ordinary, though. It does come, along with an openly appreciative look as Peter pulls his shirt off, but only with unusual effort.]
How could an admirer like me possibly resist watching? You boys were just putting on such a thrilling show!
[Will spreads his hands apologetically, swaying a little in the breeze.]
I only wish I had that kind of news to bring you. I could help with being indisposed, though.....
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We'll put some ice on it when we get home.
[But the mention of Regis, for who else could they be talking about, has his attention snapping to Will. He knows his brother's
kinginfatuationfriend?]no subject
He kept his attention on Will, though, offering him a smile.]
It's alright. I didn't think he was, I just wanted to check. Will, yes? I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Peter and this is my brother, Edmund. You are Cor's other boyfriend, right?
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[It's not nearly as impressive as the boys' swordplay, but it's still a little touch of whimsy, to help keep the conversation light even after the mention of Regis. Will shifts on his perch to draw one leg up, hooks his knee around the wire, and lets himself topple backwards. A twist of his hips leaves the swaying bundle spinning so that he can face them, dangling upside down and at a more manageable height to offer them both a hand. It's only polite to shake when you're introducing yourself, right?]
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Stars be damned. You gave me quite a fright, you know.
[But he huffs out a sigh, amused despite his embarrassment, snatching Will's hand for a somewhat odd handshake.]
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Except that he didn't and Peter let out a huff as he caught the hand meant for him.]
'Quite a fright' about explains it, I'd say. Do you do these kinds of things often? Going about making people you're about to bash your brains against the ground?
[But as the adrenaline faded, he managed a small smile as gave that captured arm a gentle shake.]
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[Will's grin is somewhere between mischievous and apologetic as he shakes their hands, clothes and hair dangling as he hangs. He just doesn't have nearly as many chances to be a real brat or showboat around here as he does at home, luckily for everyone. Everyone pretty much expects Elites to be a little eccentric, after all! It's part of their charm, and part of their entertainment value for the crowds.]
Lucky and sweet for worrying. How can I make it up to you, hmmm~?
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I didn't think it possible for someone to be nearly as bad as Lu.
[A cutting look for Will that lasts only a few seconds before he surrenders to just being exasperated.]
I've been proven wrong it seems.
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It seems you have. I do hope the two never meet. This place wouldn't know what happened to it.
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Whoever this Lu is, she sounds delightful.
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[Edmund watches Will swing for a moment before he shakes his head and very pointedly turns his back on the
show offother man.]Stars above, watching you is making me dizzy.
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That isn't terribly hard, Brother.
And yes, Lucy is delightful. A delightful little impling. Come down from there, spar with us.
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[Will holds up (down?) his hands at the invitation, even as he spins.]
I don't know about that..... I'm not much of a fighter myself, you know. My Pokémon do the battling for me.
Besides, didn't you just say you were indisposed?