And You Are? [Crix]

[Lief]

Perspiration had set upon his brow, his eyes black with malintent, as he moved through his paces. An arch of red bit through the air, accompanied by a static whoosh and the occasional clash as blades struck and arms jarred into a battle of strength. Eventually his opponent relented as he put all of his weight behind the push, and all at once he swung the blade around at a sporadic angle and felt the sweet release of all that had been pent up as his opponent cried out in agony to the attempted cho sun.

"I yield" Jerrol said, with an accompanying chuckle, one hand clutching at his right shoulder which had been singed and bruised with the brutal assault yet remained entirely in one piece. With a pant Eliron wiped the sweat from his brow and disignited the hilt of his training blade, taking two steps forward to grasp the uninjured shoulder of his companion. Despite the outward show of care, however, his gaze remained very much dark for a solid minute, until he too managed a slightly humored laugh.

"If that were for real, brother, I highly doubt they'd let you yield." With a shake of his head, the eldest of the Arwood brothers smiled and patted the younger's back. "Come on, let's get that shoulder taken care of." Leading the boy from the empty room, Eliron traded training blade for legitimate hilt on the way out, replacing the weapon which was never far from his side to the back of his belt. Jerrol raised a brow. "Is it really necessary to carry that inside the house?" the younger asked, however one glance from his brother quenched all hope of a serious response.

Of course it was necessary, though Jerrol would never fully understand Eliron's need to carry the weapon. He had never felt so helpless before, to rely on something as a crutch, and for that he was lucky and Eliron was grateful. His brother had known nothing but privilege, and it was best it remained that way. "Enough dull questions" he said, tone light yet expression brooding, walking down the hall toward the parlor. Gesturing for his brother to sit, Eliron pulled a box from one of the ceiling-high cabinets and crouched to Jerrol's level.

Pulling out a salve, he applied a healthy amount of it to the burn and lightly bound it. "Take off the bandage in an hour, once the salve is set" he said, "the air will help the healing process." Then in an unprecedented show of affection Eliron fussed his brother's hair, gave him a sincere smile, and rose to clean his hands and place the first aid box away where he had found it. "You're getting better with your training" he remarked, upon reentering the parlor, coaxing a meek smile from his brother. "We'll do another session once your shoulder's healed."

"My Lord" one of the Arwood's servants stepped into the room, "There is someone here to see you." Eliron glanced apologetically to his brother, and then gave one nod to the servant. "Of course, show them in, I'll be in the second parlor." After all, far be it from him to be shooing his brother from the room. Wandering across the foyer Eliron situated himself in a large armchair and leaned his chin on his fist, curious as to who it was today. It seemed as though he was always tending to visitors these days.

[member='Crix Meriet']

 

[Crix Meriet]

Naboo always appealed to Crix. From it's picturesque lakes to it's clean architecture, it was Crix's kind of place. Far better than Isis but alas he didn't rule Naboo, he ruled Isis the dream planet of a spice adeled pageant girl. He was therefore on Naboo for only a few days, to buy some things for the palace redecoration and to visit an old friend who had vanished long ago and only recently returned to cri's hearing.

Crix had meant to come visit sooner but one couldn't slack when they were trying to topple a monarchy. Luckily for Crix the people of Isis had done the hard work for him and sent the crown rolling into his lap.

Much as he loved naboo however Crix was a trifle vexed. First he'd been unable to bring his beautiful Toby, His poor dear had been riding yesterday when some idiot kitchen hand had dumped a box of cutlery he'd been carrying back from the barracks. Unlucky for Toby his horse had been spooked and reared throwing Toby off his back and to the ground. The doctors had assured Crix that Toby was fine, a little bruised but nothing major and whilst crix believed them he was not about to take any chances and had confined Toby to 3 days complete bedrest. Which meant he couldn't come to naboo.

The secound reason Crix was vexed was that he had been left stood on the doorstep of the Arwood estate. The butler was not the same one it had been in the days of Crix's youth and he'd gone unrecognised. He had grunted when the butler had finally allowed him into the house proper. The interior had not changed a bit and the careful observer might still be able to see the marks in the eons old door frames where toy swords had slammed into the wood.

"Eli II'm offended the help don't know me by reputation alone, I trust you havn't taken credit for every chip in the wood work " He chuckled leaning on the door frame of the secound parlor his words hiding his genuine offence. He was Crix god damn Meriet every slaving house should quiver at his name. "And the secound parlor to boot , anyone would think I was a salesman" He didn't hide his offence at that one. Crix's ego was so very easily bruised.

None the less he had stepped into the room and sat down across from his old friend. Crix could see his eyes were darkened now, much like his own. Neither was a boy anymore and both had been stripped of their innocence by a cruel hand.

Still Crix smiled, what he needed Eli for required a dark hand anyway ... patricide was afterall no clean business.