![](http://cobalt-company.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/writing:2023-06-06-daggers-and-other-dangers/style="margin:/medium.jpg) |
| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | Devon and Dara Tennerow visit the Glenarvan townhouse to practice knife-fighting and become better acquainted with Aubrienna. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: Ringside Seats
On a sunny June day, Devon and Dara Tennerow stroll down the streets of Stormwind together. Dara is positively brimming with nervous excitement, and keeps adjusting her curly hair, which is piled up on her head with the assistance of many hairpins. She's wearing a sleeveless purple sundress with a loose skirt, perhaps the most casual she's been seen out and about this season. Devon also seems to be dressed for activity, in boots and leather pants that are (hopefully) less constricting than his usual suit. He is still wearing a proper jacket over a white-collared shirt, so he's not entirely casual himself.
As they approach the Glenarvan townhouse, Devon glances down at his sister. "You might have worn pants, for something like this. No one would think less of you, Dara."
"Oh, well," Dara smiles nervously. "If I need to attack someone with a knife, I'll be in a skirt, won't I? Unless I become a… a pirate, I suppose, but I have no plans in that direction. Look, brother, we're here."
In the chic and exclusive neighborhood of the Park, the townhomes are much alike in elegance differing only in the most minor details. Red roses here, peonies there, and in front of one house a melange of flowers in dark blue and silver. Morning glory ivy trails from the flower boxes in the second and third stories, flowers now folded demurely against the afternoon sun but promising a return at the dawn. Even ignoring the flowers, there is no doubt this is a Lordaeron house; the stylized L features heavily on the open white shutters and on the graceful sweeping bannisters that lead to the dark-stained wood door. Even the brass knocker is the L of Lordaeron.
The blue curtains twitch away from the windows and Aubri's face can be briefly glimpsed before she vanishes and opens the door. No need to use the knocker after all. She waves enthusiastically. "Oh, you're here!"
Behind her, a tall and portly man in a butler's garb clears his throat portentously. This does not stop Aubri from beaming.
"Aubrienna!" Dara exclaims with clear delight, rushing forward for air kisses.
Devon hangs back a few paces, but nods at Aubri with a quiet smile. "I'm certain my sister will prove an adequate chaperone, but should you like someone else to accompany us…" He glances toward the butler.
Dara merits not only air kisses, but shoulder touches. Friends indeed! "I'm so happy to see you!" she says, taking a step back into the house as the butler holds the door. "My father's upstairs in his study and we'll leave the door open, that should suffice for propriety." She keeps backing up so it's best to go with her.
The interior is soft white with pale columns holding up the second floor. Just inside of the foyer, the room widens. One staircase curves up to the left and the right, showing a hallway of closed doors that spans the length of the house. One large circular rug softens the marble floors, and tables on either side as one enters are decorated with a few fine vases full of flowers. More doors lead to other rooms on this level, but Aubri continues to lead the way deeper in, between the staircases.
"Did you bring weapons?" she asks happily, "or did you want to borrow some? I have wooden ones, of course, so no one gets stabbed. Just poked!"
Dara giggles as she follows Aubri deeper into the house. "I did wonder how one practices without bleeding or needing a priestess nearby."
Devon follows, coming closer to the two women to say, "I hoped we might. I had no practice blades here in Stormwind, so we rely on your generosity, Lady Aubrienna. I am not as skilled at this as I once was, but I hope I can assist with the demonstrations."
Double doors lead to what could've been a small ballroom, but given the instruments, books, and seating has been converted into something between a lady's solar, a library, and a music conservatory. The furniture has been pushed back out of the way, but just from the positioning it's easy to see the piano is where it has always been, angled slightly so the sunlight will fall on the keys and any music on it. It's closed at the moment, so perhaps some concession toward safety has been made. The floors here are pale wood and gleaming with good tending.
"I thought this would be large enough. If we have to start learning tumbling, we can use the gardens out back but I didn't feel it necessary for the first lessons. And nonsense, Lord Tennerow," Aubri champions, "you're the only one of us with any actual fighting experience! Your input will be invaluable."
It's worth noting that Aubri, too, is wearing a light sundress, though she has pinned her hair up tightly into a coil of silver.
"Oh… tumbling. That does sound a little advanced for a first day. Do you normally… tumble when you fight?" Dara moves into the center of the floor, bringing her hands up in dainty fists. She's ready.
Devon, on the other hand, notes the piano with interest as he removes his jacket and starts to unbutton the top few buttons on his shirt. He glances to Aubri with a lighter smile and says, "I maintain that any form of combat is easier in pants, but then I must admit that I have no experience fighting in a skirt."
"Oh, but if I ever need to fight, I'll probably be wearing a dress so my father taught us to fight in skirts," Aubri says. She hurries to a bench pushed to one side and picks up two clunky wooden sticks that could only be considered 'daggers' if you know what they're supposed to be. Like macaroni art.
She hands one to Dara, giggling. "Don't punch me yet. Look, this is how you hold it." She demonstrates. "Not quite in a fist, see? This lets you block and stab, but you'll be able to reverse your grip later for slashing."
"See?" Dara says, taking the dagger from Aubri and trying to imitate the handhold. "That's what I told him exactly. I'm not about to run off and join the army, after all."
Devon chuckles, and steps in closer, watching Dara's awkward handling of the 'macaroni art' dagger. "I suppose it's true that I've never taught a lady to fight. Leric took to it well enough, but… oh," he looks up suddenly at Aubri. "Speaking of armies and brothers, I've heard from mine. I'm afraid there's not much to tell yet, except that your brother is still in active duty. I've told him to pass along any further news he hears."
Aubri forgets to demonstrate holding a dagger and nearly drops hers. "Active duty?" she asks hopefully. "That means alive, right? He's alive?"
"Yes," Devon says, stepping forward without thinking to place a steadying hand on hers, over the dagger. Thoughts catch up before he touches her, and he pauses with his hand inches from hers instead. "As of the last report back. There's not much social communication with the forward regiments right now. They're busy trying to make a way into Icecrown."
Aubri exhales, a sharp sound of relief. She drops her free hand over his, catching it between both of hers. "Oh, there's a chance," she breathes, eyes closed momentarily. Then she looks up. "My lord, thank you. Thank you, you cannot know what this means to me. To us." Ooo, they're holding hands.
Devon curls his warm hand over hers. He seems stunned to silence for a moment by the sight of her standing this close, looking up at him, her innocent blue eyes meeting his.
Dara watches the two of them a smile twitching at her lips, though the rest of her expression is suitably solemn.
"I'm so happy for you," Dara says, and she's surely referring to the news about the brother. "And we will keep on Leric to give regular updates. He's quite good at keeping in touch, as far as soldiers go. At least, now that the mail's back up. That was a frightful time, before."
Eep. Aubri hops backwards. "Um, yes. Quite." She has no idea what she's agreeing to. Instead, she hurries back to Dara. "Of course you don't really want to block anything unless you've no other choice," she explains hastily. "We're too small; an orc or whatever would just bash us down. But you can parry a sword aside, so it's off to one side. Then if you have time, you can stab someone in the throat. They never think you'll go for the throat."
Holding Dara's hand in hers, Aubri uses herself as the attacker and demonstrates slowly how to parry with a dagger. Her cheeks are quite pink and she is NOT looking at Dara's face.
Dara is not very good at this, so it's a good thing Aubri's moving slowly. She also seems to be on the verge of giggling, but she keeps it in check and tries to hold the dagger firm enough to deflect Aubri's attack.
"So that's the goal? Surprise them with the deflection and then go for the throat?" Dara asks, clumsily trying to bring her wooden dagger up in a stabbing motion after the deflection practice. "Have you ever had to fight an orc? Or whatever?"
"I should hope not," Devon says quietly, looking a little chagrined as he steps back from the girls' practice. "But if you ever do, show no mercy. They will show you none."
"Gosh, no," Aubri says, watching Dara stab. She has to make the motion herself to correct Dara's stance. "Put your right foot back," she says and demonstrates. "You can also thrust low, at … uhm… low." She demonstrates that, too, thrusting at about groin height. "I've never fought anything, just my brother and my sister. But if I had to, I could stay alive for a few minutes or maybe defend someone else or stab an evil person in the back."
"I hope that may make a difference someday," Devon says, watching Dara attempt a groin-level dagger thrust. "Dara, you wouldn't remember this, but your mother was rather talented at combat."
Aubri looks at Dara with bright cheer. "There, you see? It's in your blood. You come from warriors." She steps back by Devon to watch Dara practice her stabbing. "I'm sorry you lost your mother," she says. "Was it in one of the wars?"
"After the Second, actually," Dara says with a shrug, trying the dagger groin thrust again. "Redridge was still crawling with orcs. I suppose it still is, in some places. After we lost father, she became more and more involved in the defense. I hardly remember it, though, I was so young at the time."
"My mother died here, of illness. No one ever dies of illness anymore, not just normal illness. I remember a woman called us lucky once. I didn't feel lucky. Here," Aubri stands in front of Dara. "I'll pretend to stab you, very slowly. You push my dagger away with yours and then stab me. Gently please!"
"Lucky for the illness? What a horrible thing to say! I'm terribly sorry for your losing your mother as well. Now…." Dara nods her head nervously, and a curl pulls loose from her artful arrangement and falls by the side of her face. She brings the dagger up approximately in the correct position and prepares for Aubri's slow motion attack.
Devon steps close enough to potentially interfere, if either lady seems likely to be harmed.
S l o w l y, Aubri stabs for Dara's chest. "I don't suppose they meant it the way it sounded, but that was definitely one of the times I wished it were socially appropriate to punch someone in the face."
Dara looks for a moment like she might panic, but then she knocks Aubri's dagger away with a quick gesture. It's not a perfect deflection - if it were a real slow-motion fight, Aubri probably would've stabbed Dara in the shoulder. Dara doesn't seem to notice this, though, and she brings the dagger up to thrust in front of Aubri's throat, with little force behind it. "I feel like there ought to be times where it is. Did you hear the younger Lescovar got punched once?"
Aubri's not about to argue for stronger thrusts at her throat. "No, really?! Someone punched a nobleman? Who? When? Ugh, but Lescovar is a pig. He just… leers at people, have you noticed?" She backs away, but only so she can slowly attempt to stab Dara again.
"Oh, I hardly know, it was just rumors a few years ago, but his face had definitely been punched," Dara giggles, doing the parry a little better this time. She starts to aim a stab at Aubri's groin, then blushes fiercely and changes direction for somewhere in her general stomach area. She steps back. "Maybe you and Devon should try this at speed, so I can see what it's meant to look like?'
Aubri narrows her eyes in suspicion, but she clears her expression before she turns to see what Devon thinks of the idea with his partly unbuttoned shirt.
Devon hesitates, but only briefly. "That's why I'm here, is it not? Please don't attack too high on my right side." He rolls his sleeves up his forearms, reaches for Dara's dagger, and adds offhandedly, "I suppose if an orc attacked in that manner, I would need someone ready for a stab in their back."
Oh my. "Um… Yes well. Orc backs are quite large, I'm certain I could manage one for you. Could you just… maybe stab me nicely? So I can… can show Dara the proper way, my lord?" She turns pink again. Is it the forearms? Is it telling a lordship to stab her? The minds of women are complex.
Dara happily steps aside to let Devon take her place, and he looks down at Aubri. His brow creases slightly at her blush, but he tries to hold her gaze. "Do you want me to go full speed? Or… a little slower at first?"
Nope, she can't do it. Aubri looks away, but also turns away to give herself a little room to breathe normally. Then she turns back and takes shelter instead behind pertness. "If my lord thinks he can land a blow, let him try full speed," she teases, holding her macaroni-dagger up. She salutes him, just as if it were a slender sword instead of a roughed out dagger.
"Then I will do my best," Devon smiles, shifting into a fighting stance and raising his own macaroni-dagger. It's clear this is very familiar to him, but also clear that it's been a while. There's a quiet pause, and then Devon moves in to strike at Aubri's side, sure and quick.
It's fast, since the strike is. Better watch close, Dara. Aubri's dagger deflects Devon's to one side, and she uses the force of it to bring her dagger back around, a tight circle, to let her thrust at his thigh. Inner thigh. Sorry there, Devon. If you gotta block, bro, you block.
Devon steps back from the counterstrike, and says, "Yes, that is a particularly dangerous place to strike, and not only for men. Did you see that, Dara?"
"Mm," Dara says, tilting her head and looking at them. "Maybe you ought to try it again. Lady Aubrienna, perhaps you could attack?"
Aubri tosses the wood dagger back and forth between her hands. "I suppose if we're going to be fighting, I ought to insist you at least call me Aubri. Both of you, really. It's just silly to keep Ladying me when whacking at me with practice weapons, don't you think?"
Devon laughs, and Dara smiles sheepishly off to the side.
"I can do that, Aubri," Devon says, taking up a defensive stance. "As long as you call me Devon. Or Dev, if you prefer."
Politely, Aubri says, "Watch close, Dara. I'm going to stab Devon now." Yep, her cheeks turn rose-pink again, but she does skip forward, slicing at his chest barely an eyeblink after she speaks.
Devon dodges back rather than attempting a counter, and tries to dodge in under Aubri's guard to slash at her stomach with the macaroni-dagger.
Aubri spins to knock his blade aside and keeps spinning inside his guard, bringing her wooden dagger up at his throat.
Devon catches the small of her back with his left hand as he brings his own dagger up to deflect the strike. Then he winces and the deflection doesn't have quite the force it should, leaving Aubri's dagger free to score the side of his neck should she want to.
It's possible that a hand in the small of the back isn't a standard knife-fighting defense. Devon realizes this perhaps a heartbeat too late, and steps back smoothly. "Well fought, Aubri."
But maybe a hand in the small of the back should be, because his deflection makes her drop her dagger. She stares up at him, close as breath, before he steps back. "Um… yes, well. That was…" She turns to Dara. "Educational? Did you … learn anything, Dara?" Quickly she bends to retrieve her weapon.
"Oh, yes," Dara says with wide, innocent eyes. "Quite educational. We shall have to practice, you and I. But… do you mind…?" She gestures at her hair, where a handful of curls seem to have fallen free. "I may have underestimated the… um… forcefulness of combat. Have you a powder room where I might pin this back up?"
"Oh! Yes, yes of course." Aubri hurries to the door and summons over an undermaid. "Please take Lady Dara to my room to freshen up, and bring her anything she needs."
The maid curtseys and says, "If m'lady will come with me?"
Aubri stands at the door for a moment before turning back to Devon.
Dara waves and departs, holding one hand to her wounded hair.
"I do hope being briefly unchaperoned does not make you uncomfortable, Aubri," Devon says in a low voice, once the maid and Dara are gone. "You are very skilled with the dagger, I can tell that even with these toys."
She gestures fitfully toward the doors. "The doors are open, m— Dev. I'm sure I'm quite safe with you. And thank you for the compliment. It means something, coming from an actual fighting man." She walks a step or two closer. "I'm sorry if your shoulder pained you. My father has a medic who comes to the house every few weeks who does massage and manipulation on his leg, from one of his old injuries. Had you considered m— " M what, Aubri?
"That is to say, it might be helpful." She looks down at the dagger in her hand, not at all thinking about massaging his wounded shoulder for him.
Devon tugs the collar of his shirt further open, reaching toward the shoulder with his left hand, moving closer to her. "I haven't done anything like that recently, with all the political troubles. That may be why it's paining me more than usual - I can sometimes even ignore it, unless I move my arm just the wrong way. Still… perhaps I should speak with your father."
"You should absolutely speak with my father," Aubri says, her voice a little squeaky. She does manage to get her eyes off the collar-tugging and up to his face, so kudos to her. "About his medic, I mean! And I'm sorry, of course dagger fighting would make it worse. Perhaps I'll just teach Dara to throw a left hook?"
"No need to apologize," Devon says with a smile, looking down at her. He's standing very close by now, just barely inside a noblewoman's personal bubble. "I thought it sounded like a good idea, myself… and I could use the exercise, after all the time I've been spending poring over documents lately. Would you like to go again, before Dara gets back? And we could do hand-to-hand next, if you'd like."
There is absolutely no reply from Aubri. Her jaw has dropped just a bit and she's stopped blinking.
Just before the silence becomes too uncomfortable, she manages to whisper-ask, "Hand to… Hand-to-hand?"
Devon smiles, and it seems like maybe Aubri has answered a question for him that he didn't ask in words. Taking a step back, he clarifies, "Punches, kicks, that sort of thing." He raises his macaroni-dagger and says, "Shall we? Not to demonstrate for Dara, but just to test ourselves a little."
The two of them square off again, and begin sparring more in earnest. Devon moves with the familiarity of long practice, but Aubri's speed and dexterity have them evenly matched. The little wooden daggers are deflected again and again as the two circle one another. And then, one particular deflection leaves Aubri's guard open. Devon brings his dagger around in an arc to strike at her heart.
In desperation, Aubri twists sideways. The move throws her off her balance, a balance she recovers by tumbling sidelong and coming up on her feet, dagger at the ready. That sundress? Not made for tumbling; it exposes far too much leg. And perhaps other things about her abilities. She pauses to catch her breath and eyes Devon warily.
Devon looks at her in surprise, stunned to silence for a moment as a faint blush creeps up on his cheeks. Maybe he's just out of breath himself. He hasn't been exercising recently.
Then there's the sound of clapping, and Dara is in the open doorway, her hair now twisted up tightly like Aubri's own. "Oh, Aubri that was amazing. I do see how tumbling is not for lesson one."
Thank goodness for Dara. Her applause breaks the awkwardness, and Aubri gives her head a little shake and laughs. "Gosh, I didn't think I'd have to do any. Devon, you've not let any of your fighting lapse from what I can see!" She tries to be nonchalant as she smooths her skirts down.
Devon's gaze lingers for half a heartbeat on her skirt, where her legs were visible not moments before, but then he meets her gaze and smiles. "I'm pleased to hear it from such a talented lady. If, Light forbid, Stormwind were invaded again, the enemy would certainly not find you an easy target."
Aubri curtseys, a tiny bob, playful. "I'll probably shock my enemies into paralysis if I go tumbling around in skirts! I do beg your pardon, Dev. I'm afraid I let my fighting skills trump my good taste. Dara, you can see we'll have to practice in trousers!"
Dara giggles. "Perhaps so. Or wear trousers beneath our skirts at least, if I'm to be doing jumps and rolls." She walks over to them and takes the macaroni-dagger from Devon's hand. Her gaze darts from Aubri to Devon and back, and her face brightens with a small, secret kind of smile. "My turn next, Aubri? I have my hair fixed properly this time."
Aubri laughs. "Your turn! Let's practice how to stab through the ribs. You'll like that one. Every woman should know how to strike at the heart." With a last glance at Devon, she moves to Dara's side, finding safety in closeness with the younger Tennerow as the lessons continue on.