Post by Phantasma on Feb 6, 2019 18:43:17 GMT -5
Time or perhaps nostalgia distorts home, after a sufficient break everything always seems to look different. The air has a different nature to it, colors look brighter or duller and people you used to know are just as varied. Kite could scarcely get a hold of himself as he stepped off Jemma's barge, taking the scenery in. He naturally had to divert his head and both hands to looking and waving off the crew as they made a quick departure. The galleon had become a fond thing for the hunter with its bright colors, medium sized hull and flailing sail. Jemma, her crew, they were quickly becoming close friends after sharing parts in two of Kites most thrilling adventures and it earned a smile from his lips when they started singing Binks' Sake, wailing out slurred drunken tones out onto the open wind with their ship growing smaller and smaller on the blue horizon. The sun had freshly risen and was climbing high into the sky, it was early and well before afternoon when Kite had made landfall.
Taking a deep breath the youth whirled on his heels and pocketed his hands, clenching around his two extra knives with shaking hands. Though his eyes were half lidded his surprise was sorely hidden, things had changed with a few new wooden flaps hanging above shops announcing new businesses and garments that decorated the ramparts of the castle-like towers had new designs quilted. Music flared up and all manner of folks swarmed atop the roads in town, a thin set of stairs allowing folks to descend into the pit of a harbor. It had been at night so Kite could scarcely appreciate the architecture of his home town. A place without a slum, a picture of beauty. Indeed this kingdom was known for its appeal to the eye.
"Well old boy we figured that there had been a mix up and beating up people or not at the end of the day you still assaulted a prisoner! A law breaker! Why on earth wouldn't we want you out of prison when you've done nothing all that wrong!" The old man chortled, his facial hair, a arm sized bit of beard straightening and curling down to his chest as he laughed.
Much in the same manner his wife patiently nodded her head, eyes closed and a smile planted on her lips. A trademark of the Marigold line was their pristine white clothes and unlike her husband, who wore something more like Kites suit, her dress was much more like the woman sitting in a lush seat off to the side of the group. Flower like, flowing and dainty. While the two men talked the women seemed content to gently talk about some unrelated topic, looking over the seats when needed and talking among themselves for the meantime. It was apparently decided each member of the household would get a turn to speak with Kite, even that much was apparent to him given he was used to large conversations in this kind of setting.
"In short we planned to get you out, have you examined sure but we never expected you to up and flee the kingdom like that! You were the talk of the town for sometime afterward too with this business of hunting down criminals-- had me worried and freezing in the night that's what! At the end of the day it matters that you're safe and you're back with the fact I can lecture you like this just being icing on some delicious cake. Speaking of cake have you eaten? Marion and Marie have been trying out these new recipes recently and--" The lord began only to have Kite lean forward in his chair and somewhat rudely get talked over.
"Mother? You started to cook again?" Red eyes searched out the youthful vision in the room, the similarly haired women looked over he chair and smiled a bit, turning the green and black Bergère on plush carpet with a flash of movement on her part.
"Oh yes. My son jumping country made me scramble to pick up hobbies. Cooking was one, another was trying my hand at sword play," She let out a laugh as Kite started tripping over himself making a storm of protesting grunts and open mouthed stares.
"Swords?! No! Dangerous!"
"And hunting criminals isn't?"
"I need--"
"You need a mothers love~"
"Gfhurh...ngh..." Kite puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms mumbling on his breath as he blushed a deep shade of scarlet, the room flooding with yet more laughter on Marion and Eisal's part.
"You always did let your mother get the better of you old boy. Glad that no matter how many criminals you chase down that we'll always have our lovable Kite. So many buttons to push and you only arrived recently. Guess we'll just have to make up for lost time?" Eisal began before coughing and holding up both of his hands, palm first.
"I kid, I jest. We're glad that you're back old boy. Wouldn't soon have you fleeing the estate on account of how bad we're drilling into you. For a long time we thought we'd be angry or crying when we met you so this is a much nicer alternative. The house was a great deal more quiet when you left-- excited when news came in yes but ultimately a much more sad place. We've missed you and... well... I'm for one overjoyed that we made it back to port safe and sound. I wont have you working off that debt but I surely demand at least a few hugs and a very good reason as to why you fled!"
"Sorry. Heart getting the better of this prune like body," He let out another heart laugh, dropping back in his seat and giving his wife the opportunity to scoot her chair across the carpet to get nearest to Kite, grabbing his right hand in both of her hands.
"Deary, I'd love to hear all about your journey ESPECIALLY if you've gotten some one special waiting for you out on the sea but I think your mother has earned herself an audience with you. She's been holding herself back for months now and frankly I'd sooner have her hugging you and sobbing then flinging herself across furniture to hug you. Can't be paying off a fortune in repairing the house and getting you out of jail," She made a game of winking.
"I get a few jokes in too. Go on Kite, you got a story to tell her and she's flesh and blood," She gave a contented sigh and scooted back to her husband, gripping his hand tightly and looking into his eyes with a knowing sparkle.
"As if you're not family too," Kite started, earning a misty eyed stare from the two older folks.
"For the longest time I was sure it was a contest to see who was more sad to see you gone. Me or them. None of us could figure why you'd up and leave-- never a coward and hardly someone who fears the law. Was someone threatening you?" Marie began once she had successfully dragged her son up some flights of stairs, into a room at the top of the manner filled with but a bed and a wardrobe as well as some bits and boggles like a sewing machine and a weapons rack.
The room was clean, but seemed to have been Frankenstein together. Lavish curtains of bright yellow, deep earthen browns and magnificently carved oaken bed-frame, a wardrobe contrasted against the spartan metal-knight suit holding twin dark scabbards.
"I was diseased, I still am," Kite hung his head a bit in the room expecting silence to overtake him and instead he felt a rush of cold air and then sudden warmth across his chest.
Embraced by his mother, who wrapped arms around his neck, shook and closed her eyes as she leaned over his neck. He was simply captured and after long he closed his eyes too, wrapped his own arms around his mom. Time seemed to slow down and a growing sense of content nestled into into his chest, by the time a voice finally started up again he felt the urge to fall asleep then and there standing up. Something that now vaguely embarrassed him on account of how relaxed he had gotten and put a certain steel to his stance that prevented him from considering such things.
"If it was a question of health you could have seen a doctor. I wouldn't soon lose you after your father-- Why would you being ill force you out of the Kingdom? Why all this trouble?" She spoke over his neck, her grip tightening to show the depths of her concern and confusion.
"Not bodily ills, that of the mind. I had some poison in my head that-- I nearly beat a man to death and such rage has only become increasingly more common. I was a danger to you all...! I couldn't stand the thought of hurting anyone, so once that terrible incident happened I was convinced I could no longer control myself. I fled because I was so sure that I could find Father and fix myself!"
"Find him...?"
"Yes! I tried so hard Mother, believe me I did! On the barest traces of detail I sat out onto the grand line searching high and low. At every turn I thought I was near that horizon-- that goal but it was all just grasping at fog. Even now I'm unsure where he went and whether or not it was because of the same curse fallen on myself. I was a fool to assume this much, to leave him on such a naive notion but... it felt so real. Something compelled me to go on and I was so desperate to come back. Even now, holding back tears of joy I'm in fear of not being able to,"
"Nonsense! Nonsense nonsense utter nonsense! You act as if you have to support the world on those shoulders but you have a Mother! You're surrounded by love! Its an unconditional sort that doesn't demand you be of a certain mind! Even if you did try hurting us we'd never abandon you and would get you the help you need. Married to your father for as long as I was I'm sure I know how to quell that fire,"
"So Father did suffer from this rage?" Kite stiffened, pulled away from his mother, keeping his hands on her shoulders and look her in the eyes, his own wide and his mouth thinly pressed as his heart hammered away at his chest.
"Yes... He was... he did have some anger. Rage I suspect that might have led you to run from here. But it was never something uncontrollable," His mother raised her blue eyes from the floor, fresh tears streaming across her face from the earlier emotionally charged sentences.
"It's not a simple tale of abandonment," More tears flushed from her eyes as she walked across the ornate deep earthen carpet that decorated a flush wood flooring, all the way to a distant window, parting the yellow drapes and looking out to the courtyard below.
"I'm beginning to guess that much," Kite answered back, walking after her and pressing into her hand two daggers which at first elicited a gasp and then arched brow only to evolve into the woman looking up to her son and her lips quivering anew.
"How?" She asked, barely able to sound out that much, the knives being rubbed with her spare left hand almost carefully like they'd fade away from sight at any second.
"Far away from here on an island that threatened my very life. I don't recognize them and all this talk of my dad, you're crying... I hate to make you sad mother, you know I do. But I suspected these had something to do with me. Now I'm thinking they've something to do with Father," He pressed for more answers and yet was gentle with his tone already concerned for how worked up his dear mother was getting.
"These are his. Perhaps you don't see, but I do. Fresh in my mind, every drop for drop detail. These were your fathers knives and he did his best to never leave them behind. He was a man of tradition, the kind that wouldn't allow him to abandon his wife. He was... so strong... I wasn't. I never told you the full story and now you suffer. I wish,"
"No. No more secrets, no more regrets Mother. We'll start at the beginning," Kite hugged her close to him, taking the initiative to do so and getting a shaky sigh from his rattled parent in return.
"He was killed in a fight, someone managed to goad him into it and he died a very violent death. Those responsible paid but it wasn't enough. I was such a mess that it took the charity of two nobles to help me bring you up and since you've been a child I always tried to be stronger for your sake and to pay back that kindness. Not telling you what had happened was my way of avoiding the reality of it all and when you left I've been thinking of a million ways to break the truth-- to try and redeem myself. I can't say its like I imagined but... for the first time in years I feel like I can breath,"
"Almost ironic my son is the one doing the consoling, listening to me. I'll just have to do better and tease you more,"
Kite had taken to sitting on the bed and by now had his arms supported on his legs by his elbows. Leaning forward with palms hiding his face, though he was not crying the pressure to his face was a constant reminder this wasn't a dream. His mother through that inherent parental sixth sense was able to tell he needed some time and fell silent, wadding over to the bed before sitting down beside her son. Placing a gloved right hand onto his right shoulder she slowly rocked the boy back and forth, humming to herself and rubbing a spot onto his back. Despair hadn't caught hold of him fully and he wasn't about to shut down but words failed him, his lower lip was being harshly bitten back by his teeth as he held back whatever noise his body wanted to make.
Losing track of time he just swayed there on the bed, his backside being enveloped by the soft plushy nature of the white comforter bedspread. Flower designs distorted by the two bodies weight and wrinkling up something fierce with the added constant movement. Neither of the group was paying such small details mind, Kite was pressing his eyes shut and his mother had her entire attention devoted to her shocked boy.
His fuming in silence was to end soon, it became apparent when his hands dropped down palm up on his lap and he let out a long exhale. His body deflating some and then inflating with an equally as shaky breath. When he spoke words felt alien, strange in his mouth and some vague sense of nostalgia washed over him. A feeling that had clung to him near the tail end of his journey on an island of mist, slugs and crabs.
"I'm not going to ask for an apology. I want to thank you for finally telling me. But I need you to tell me now if you've forgotten anything or lack the strength to go further... because this closure could mean the world to me. Once we start going I don't know if I'll be able to stop asking you questions Mother. In the time that I've left until now my manners, my ability to hold back... they've waned. So please," He turned to Marie, red eyes pleading silently and wavering with their honest intensity.
"Of course. I can do that much, especially with you here," She offered a smile, only to get another big hug from her ever-loyal lap-dog turned son.
She was more than happy to get him leaning across to give her a bear hug and fought back the urge to wail some more or grab him with an equally as large hug. It had been so long since she wore such a big smile and the corners of her mouth were beginning to ache. The pain being a call back to the days of Kites youth back when he was a much more bumble-y kind of youth who constantly needed to be doted upon or to tug at his 'mummies' skirt to show her something.
Retracting from the hug and clearing his throat the young man adjusted how he sat on the bed. Naturally leaving his legs off the side but turning to the left he was now looking his parent fully in the eyes. Sitting up straight, proper, his hands sat neatly on his thighs. Idly smoothing out fabric and tending to putting his knives in their originally holsters. His dads knives, meanwhile, were sat off to the side on the wardrobes inside floor. Not forgotten but put out of reach for now.
"What was the purpose of those knives? As far as I can remember I got mine as gifts but why would Father have his own set? Were they from the Marigolds? From you?" He leaned in, eyes unblinking and fixated.
"I was always buying you two clothes, or stuffed animals for you. Never something like weapons, well not until recently perhaps. Those knives were apart of some ritual your father carried on from his father and from that father from their father, sort of like an heirloom only instead of one set of knives they were commissioned specially for each individual family member. You really do not remember? Your Father told you a story and everything when you were younger, truth be told we were worried you'd never sleep after hearing it from how excited you were when you got the knives," Marie took a hand and held it to her face as she let out a delightful snort, clearly enjoying the memory.
"Bits and pieces... Bits and pieces," He sighed, huffing a bit when he caught his mothers teasing smirk.
"Well, it all starts in a land far above the clouds," Marie began, arms spreading around and hands gesturing to aid in her story.
What was wiped away by the sands of time and the changing nature of a boys mind had been reinforced, remolded by a fresh new narrative. Each winding turn of the tale had him sitting on the edge of the bed in anticipation. For Marie, only for the merest instance, it was like some time traveling magic and once or twice she had to stop to sniffle or wipe clean a tear dealing with the apologies of a now confused son as to why she was crying now-- that if he had done something she had to say so.
"Skypiea?" Kite practically spelled the word out with how carefully he recited the name, committing it to memory and at the same time prompting the name itself as a question for his Mother and yet the way he tilted his head to the right and raised his brow-- it earned another snicker from her.
"I can hear you pressing against the door you freak! Privacy privacy PRIVACY!" Kite shouted, bath water pooling and threatening to splash right over the side of the somewhat porcelain bowl-like pool.
"Juuuuust making sure you don't make a break for it~ Clothes will come in a bit. I think I'll pick out a dress or something if you keep up that attitude," Marie was having far too much fun with this and before Kite could protest the click of her feet on cold tile faded into the distance.
"Eh...frekafrakafrekafraka," Kite mumbled to himself, dipping his face just below the water so just his scowling red eyes peered over the bubbly froth of the interior bathwater.
The bathhouse that was kept inside of the manner was a vision of paradise. Cream colored walls decorated with winged cherubs, what wasn't priceless art treated to handle the harsh heat of bath water was some kind of center piece like vases on pillars and lovely fake vines that climb up the walls and act as positions for clothes or towels to be hung on. The entire space was largely empty save for the pit of the bath, a bowl of porcelain set into the floor so that one could simply walk from the door, dip down some and have the whole room to themselves. In this way it could be said the entire room was a bath, rather than just a bath room. The water itself came from a center-like fountain that almost looked like an umbrella. A thin center piece with a sprouting top that allowed hot water to cascade down in sheets and soak along the bath pit and give its users room to splash about. Kite, of course, simply sat in one corner and scrubbed soap along into his hair, across his body. Working clean knots and dirt that stuck to him from his latest adventures.
"Starting to miss this treatment. Sure beats a ship bath," Kite chuckled to himself a bit, relaxed and ready to start cracking jokes now that the weariness was being washed clean off his body.
The story had left him with some questions but, taking a page out of his mothers book, he decided to focus on himself for once and prioritized relaxing for a change before he started stress out again. Talks of dinner and of staying the night were given and agreed to, instead of fighting or blushing at so much being handed to him the young man was relieved. Even he was surprised with how well he was taking all this news, was impressed with how he didn't storm off or blatantly deny everything.
Running hands through his hair, yanking out tied ends and massaging his scalp he came back to reality. Thoroughly reminded himself that he was putting off even praise until he was completely spotless. The scent of lavender and roses filled his nose and the fragrance rose to even the mist, filtering out fogged over windows set high near the painted foot of the bath house. Water continued to pour out of the spigot and mist intensified in the room, circling around the naked male and blanketing him as he laid back and sighed. Drifting in the water, eyes closed. Hands folded across his chest he let out a healthy yawn and stretched his legs some before going slack.
Once or twice he very nearly drifted off and against his better willpower that opened up the opportunity to review what had happened thus far. Instead of shaking his head he let out an annoyed grunt and relented, letting his mind drift as he floated along in the bathwater.
'You're from a place in the sky Kite. A genuine angel, your father. Those scars on your back weren't from some injury! They were wings, wings that were clipped off when you were young. A rite that's been repeated in your family for countless generations, since even your father was unable to tell me exactly when it started outside of that story. You always let kids get to you when they called you a monster but you shouldn't! Just hold your head high, look down on them if you have to! People around here are simply jealous, anything abnormal or exotic incites such emotion. In a kingdom ruled by appearance those that can't capture hearts fully will drag out the ire of man. Of course my boy would be the one to get such attention-- I mean look at me. I'm beautiful right? Stands to reason you'd get those looks, make people all sorts of flustered!' Kite spat out some water after having opened his mouth in silent protest, flapping his arms and falling below the bath water.
"Nnngggg...." Kite let out a grumble as he stood up in the deep water, hot steam and soapy froth pouring off of his pale white skin as he skulked off towards the door to secure a towel and dry himself.
He recalled mention of clothes and to even get them he needed to be dry.
Taking a deep breath the youth whirled on his heels and pocketed his hands, clenching around his two extra knives with shaking hands. Though his eyes were half lidded his surprise was sorely hidden, things had changed with a few new wooden flaps hanging above shops announcing new businesses and garments that decorated the ramparts of the castle-like towers had new designs quilted. Music flared up and all manner of folks swarmed atop the roads in town, a thin set of stairs allowing folks to descend into the pit of a harbor. It had been at night so Kite could scarcely appreciate the architecture of his home town. A place without a slum, a picture of beauty. Indeed this kingdom was known for its appeal to the eye.
11:00 AM, The Bourgeois Kingdom
"I abandoned you all when the whole plan was to just buy me out of my sentence?" Kite breathed, repeating what had been explained allowed almost as if it sounded insane to him closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly as he did so. Much like a newborn calf Kite took his first of many uneasy steps on the dock planks leading to solid stone not three feet away. The dock was mostly just walks of bridges stretching out into the ocean allowing for temporary port, refuel and then departure, the more private estates were to the more secluded nooks worked into the majestic landscape. What wasn't stone was enchanting fjords, rolling green hills opening up to the sea or housing their own pristine lakes and gorgeous pine. The Kingdom however was naught but stone, carved stone, marble set with gilding and gems and the further one walked inward to town the more decadent the scenery became. Eyes flicking to stairs embossed with knights warding off dragons, rescuing princesses and enjoying feasts, the stories came to a halt once the dark horse reached the top of the steps.
No one paid him any mind, nobles, peasants, shop keeps, all of them were like ants in the streets and it took effort to allow Kite the room to wade through the sea of flowing clothes glittering armor and clicking walking canes. Swearing under his breath he had to keep his clothes free of the pompous mutts of some lord, yapping little white haired poodles that were the epitome of the phrase 'well-groomed-ankle-biters', their fluffy little orb-like hair pockets bounding up and down as the skipped after Kite in the crowd only to be pulled back on their brown leather leashes yelping all the way. Small squatting shops sloping down into the docks pit turned into high rising towers, parts of the wall that separated the city from nature. Looking high, looking low Kite navigated his memories as much as he did the multitude of streets that fed into the maze of main street.
Mrs. Periwinkles dance college belted out angelical notes from a turret to the high north, her shadowy hour glass figure reflected on Gothic painted glass waving both arms to an unseen choir. Butchers like Fritz pounded away at quarry in the petite open-aired butcher shops worked into the corners of walls and jammed between other merchant stalls. What wasn't allowed to be worked into a tower was a temporary tent set up in the vacant stone lots not considered to be part of the road. Had Kite been anyone else navigating this city would've taken hours but the sights, aside from stirring thought, hums of appreciation and glimpses of smiles, would've also robbed him of direction. Pulled along by years of trips the young man ascended stairs, cut corners and went on his way to his own beat. Rather than seclude himself in his own world he actively made an effort to wave and nod at folks on the chance they noticed his glances and looks.
Some people even recognized him, granted a lot of those looks were timid jerked and wide eyes they did evolve into some happy waves and shouts of friendly words. Comically those earned questioning raises of the mans brow, he recalled very clearly that he had ran out of the place from the law and fully expected to be detained at some point to explain himself and potentially pay off his fine and yet the further he went into town the more that became doubtful. Even fellow guards that were patrolling the city in silver tin-suits of armor flagged him down just to give him pats on the back and handshakes!
"Am I not a fugitive?" He'd ask, teeth chattering from the clang of armor on soft-fabric.
"Of course not! Everyone was wondering when you'd come back! All is forgiven and we worried!" The guard, a man by the name of Ulric, answered.
"Have we ever been so lenient?" Kite tilted his head, pressing his right hand through the back of his mane, combing down scoops of his silver hair before pocketing the hand again.
"To those in good wealth? Yes. To those missed by lords, ladies and mothers? Doubly so!" Now, the snickering off to the side clued Kite into at least some of that being false but the mention of money did make his eyes light up a bit.
"I'm off then. Pleasure as always Ulric. Give my regards to your mother, I'm sure she's among the many who've cried out at my absence," Kite gave a cocky tilt of his head back and hint of a grin, walking away quickly as he did so.
For but a brief instance a bit of spitfire abrasiveness welled up in the hunter leading to those words.
"What?!" Ulric, slow as always, glared out from the stereotypical knight helm, armor clapping around and hitting itself as he struggled to lean back off the guard posts wall and chase after Kite.
Fortunately he was stopped by his friends, they had enjoyed poking fun at Kite and would just as soon beat him on the spot for the trouble he caused but the fact remained his crimes had been paid off. And to physically assault one in the favor of a lord, a lady, was asking for trouble. Grumbling among themselves the guards went back under the archway feeding into the office dug into the wall and plotted just what to holler out at Kite and cut him deep for that joke of his. Things hadn't changed from the time when he was a kid and their jealousy pushed them to greater heights of cruelty.
Mere stone was not enough and once exiting the common grounds, the fair grounds and the shopping stalls a feast for the eyes sat upon the hunter. His strides quickened as off in the distance set among towers that threatened to rise above smoke from the kitchens bellow was what he had been calling home for years. A grassy patch of land sat in metal and marble a manner in the protection of the city walls. The site of Lord and Lady Marigolds power, a mark of their loyalty to the monarch and of their station as part of the blue blooded elites. Comparatively their house even outclassed fellow nobles standing at an impressive height of four floors in a colonial style that made it look more like a massive box than a castle and yet because of such design it was seen as a jewel among dregs, departing from the castle and decidedly ancient techniques of their forefathers. It was a torch that allowed the young man a measure of distance to his destination.
Waving to the scant few errand boys popping between houses Kite continued along the raised glass path set on slick marble streets decorated with works of art built into the very road itself, the main one of course was set for carriages and the well off leaving the tiny sliver of left and right to the underprivileged or guests to the nation. Anyone out at this hour were guests so naturally both sides were swamped but given the fact this section of the kingdom was gated it was still a low number, rarely did the youth bump elbows and he had plenty of breathing room. He could just walk and admire the houses on his way to the manner and given how quick his stride was he neared the place in no time. A few blocks journey had been but seconds to him as he took in all the sights.
Going under arches, hopping over gates and tiptoeing past windows it was a matter of stealth that Kite make it around the back. His limber form allowing him to accelerate into jumps that made him like a blur to ordinary folk and nary a scream or startle was made, no one had seen him go onto the Marigold property and much like a phantom he skulked around the green lush garden that comprised their back yard. It was a circular patch of greenery with four massive hedges trimmed to the shape of fruit, they were perfect shapes to hide behind. Peaking around an apple he made a dash for the pineapple, peaking around the odd spiny-shape of that he made another mad dash to the back door and practically vanished in the shadows underneath the houses eaves. The group of the pear, pineapple, apple and melon hedges had not even an imprint of the hunter that had been using them as cover. His plan was almost perfect to arrive in the house unexpected and avoid the ridiculous show the masters would likely throw him. Shuddering to think how they'd shower him with praise, especially the fact he'd have to sit through it thanks to them paying off his debt. He very nearly missed the creak of the door and the sound of a startled but happily so Lady Marigold.
Her ancient face crinkled into a smile, heavily make-up plastered purple shadowed green eyes lit up and ruby red lips curled into a smile. Her pale skin stretched and her oval head deformed as she let out a excited wail summoning an equally make-up covered male who was also suitably ancient the two continuing to let out happy scream after happy scream. Kite was deadly white and fall face first against the door, body twitching and flopping with each scream wracking his body. His heart had nearly jumped out of his throat and it took a good few minutes for him to get to his feet and dust himself off. The screaming and excited chatter had not stopped and instead got even worse once he fell, the entire episode aside from overstimulating him also simultaneously desensitized him and he could at least face the two with a very heavy frown and sigh as he tried to shush them. He failed, him making faces and sighing just earned hugs and back pats, surprisingly the two royals had a lot of strength to their aged forms and wobbly limbs wrapped around a now coughing and suffocating Kite. He has hidden in a cloud of powder, white fabric and jabbering old people!
A third shape exited out of the house, decidedly more young and tall reaching up to Kites height. Unlike Lord and Lady Marigold this vision was of a pale faced, blue eyed, silver haired beauty with soft features set into flowing white robes. Her dress was a fusion of fluffy white, light sky blue around her shoulders and a myriad of black dots with golden speckles of metal buttons and pendants. The interior of her dress were like flower petals and the expression she wore when seeing Kite was muddled with tears. Throwing herself against the old people she hugged the nearly suffocated boy and waddled in with the group to the interior of the house. The entire neighborhood was now peering over black-pointy line fences or the few marble and gold pillars that sat the metal apart. Curious and annoyed at such a disturbance in the middle of the day.
No one paid him any mind, nobles, peasants, shop keeps, all of them were like ants in the streets and it took effort to allow Kite the room to wade through the sea of flowing clothes glittering armor and clicking walking canes. Swearing under his breath he had to keep his clothes free of the pompous mutts of some lord, yapping little white haired poodles that were the epitome of the phrase 'well-groomed-ankle-biters', their fluffy little orb-like hair pockets bounding up and down as the skipped after Kite in the crowd only to be pulled back on their brown leather leashes yelping all the way. Small squatting shops sloping down into the docks pit turned into high rising towers, parts of the wall that separated the city from nature. Looking high, looking low Kite navigated his memories as much as he did the multitude of streets that fed into the maze of main street.
Mrs. Periwinkles dance college belted out angelical notes from a turret to the high north, her shadowy hour glass figure reflected on Gothic painted glass waving both arms to an unseen choir. Butchers like Fritz pounded away at quarry in the petite open-aired butcher shops worked into the corners of walls and jammed between other merchant stalls. What wasn't allowed to be worked into a tower was a temporary tent set up in the vacant stone lots not considered to be part of the road. Had Kite been anyone else navigating this city would've taken hours but the sights, aside from stirring thought, hums of appreciation and glimpses of smiles, would've also robbed him of direction. Pulled along by years of trips the young man ascended stairs, cut corners and went on his way to his own beat. Rather than seclude himself in his own world he actively made an effort to wave and nod at folks on the chance they noticed his glances and looks.
Some people even recognized him, granted a lot of those looks were timid jerked and wide eyes they did evolve into some happy waves and shouts of friendly words. Comically those earned questioning raises of the mans brow, he recalled very clearly that he had ran out of the place from the law and fully expected to be detained at some point to explain himself and potentially pay off his fine and yet the further he went into town the more that became doubtful. Even fellow guards that were patrolling the city in silver tin-suits of armor flagged him down just to give him pats on the back and handshakes!
"Am I not a fugitive?" He'd ask, teeth chattering from the clang of armor on soft-fabric.
"Of course not! Everyone was wondering when you'd come back! All is forgiven and we worried!" The guard, a man by the name of Ulric, answered.
"Have we ever been so lenient?" Kite tilted his head, pressing his right hand through the back of his mane, combing down scoops of his silver hair before pocketing the hand again.
"To those in good wealth? Yes. To those missed by lords, ladies and mothers? Doubly so!" Now, the snickering off to the side clued Kite into at least some of that being false but the mention of money did make his eyes light up a bit.
"I'm off then. Pleasure as always Ulric. Give my regards to your mother, I'm sure she's among the many who've cried out at my absence," Kite gave a cocky tilt of his head back and hint of a grin, walking away quickly as he did so.
For but a brief instance a bit of spitfire abrasiveness welled up in the hunter leading to those words.
"What?!" Ulric, slow as always, glared out from the stereotypical knight helm, armor clapping around and hitting itself as he struggled to lean back off the guard posts wall and chase after Kite.
Fortunately he was stopped by his friends, they had enjoyed poking fun at Kite and would just as soon beat him on the spot for the trouble he caused but the fact remained his crimes had been paid off. And to physically assault one in the favor of a lord, a lady, was asking for trouble. Grumbling among themselves the guards went back under the archway feeding into the office dug into the wall and plotted just what to holler out at Kite and cut him deep for that joke of his. Things hadn't changed from the time when he was a kid and their jealousy pushed them to greater heights of cruelty.
12:00 AM, Upper yard of the Bourgeois Kingdom
Mere stone was not enough and once exiting the common grounds, the fair grounds and the shopping stalls a feast for the eyes sat upon the hunter. His strides quickened as off in the distance set among towers that threatened to rise above smoke from the kitchens bellow was what he had been calling home for years. A grassy patch of land sat in metal and marble a manner in the protection of the city walls. The site of Lord and Lady Marigolds power, a mark of their loyalty to the monarch and of their station as part of the blue blooded elites. Comparatively their house even outclassed fellow nobles standing at an impressive height of four floors in a colonial style that made it look more like a massive box than a castle and yet because of such design it was seen as a jewel among dregs, departing from the castle and decidedly ancient techniques of their forefathers. It was a torch that allowed the young man a measure of distance to his destination.
Waving to the scant few errand boys popping between houses Kite continued along the raised glass path set on slick marble streets decorated with works of art built into the very road itself, the main one of course was set for carriages and the well off leaving the tiny sliver of left and right to the underprivileged or guests to the nation. Anyone out at this hour were guests so naturally both sides were swamped but given the fact this section of the kingdom was gated it was still a low number, rarely did the youth bump elbows and he had plenty of breathing room. He could just walk and admire the houses on his way to the manner and given how quick his stride was he neared the place in no time. A few blocks journey had been but seconds to him as he took in all the sights.
Going under arches, hopping over gates and tiptoeing past windows it was a matter of stealth that Kite make it around the back. His limber form allowing him to accelerate into jumps that made him like a blur to ordinary folk and nary a scream or startle was made, no one had seen him go onto the Marigold property and much like a phantom he skulked around the green lush garden that comprised their back yard. It was a circular patch of greenery with four massive hedges trimmed to the shape of fruit, they were perfect shapes to hide behind. Peaking around an apple he made a dash for the pineapple, peaking around the odd spiny-shape of that he made another mad dash to the back door and practically vanished in the shadows underneath the houses eaves. The group of the pear, pineapple, apple and melon hedges had not even an imprint of the hunter that had been using them as cover. His plan was almost perfect to arrive in the house unexpected and avoid the ridiculous show the masters would likely throw him. Shuddering to think how they'd shower him with praise, especially the fact he'd have to sit through it thanks to them paying off his debt. He very nearly missed the creak of the door and the sound of a startled but happily so Lady Marigold.
Her ancient face crinkled into a smile, heavily make-up plastered purple shadowed green eyes lit up and ruby red lips curled into a smile. Her pale skin stretched and her oval head deformed as she let out a excited wail summoning an equally make-up covered male who was also suitably ancient the two continuing to let out happy scream after happy scream. Kite was deadly white and fall face first against the door, body twitching and flopping with each scream wracking his body. His heart had nearly jumped out of his throat and it took a good few minutes for him to get to his feet and dust himself off. The screaming and excited chatter had not stopped and instead got even worse once he fell, the entire episode aside from overstimulating him also simultaneously desensitized him and he could at least face the two with a very heavy frown and sigh as he tried to shush them. He failed, him making faces and sighing just earned hugs and back pats, surprisingly the two royals had a lot of strength to their aged forms and wobbly limbs wrapped around a now coughing and suffocating Kite. He has hidden in a cloud of powder, white fabric and jabbering old people!
A third shape exited out of the house, decidedly more young and tall reaching up to Kites height. Unlike Lord and Lady Marigold this vision was of a pale faced, blue eyed, silver haired beauty with soft features set into flowing white robes. Her dress was a fusion of fluffy white, light sky blue around her shoulders and a myriad of black dots with golden speckles of metal buttons and pendants. The interior of her dress were like flower petals and the expression she wore when seeing Kite was muddled with tears. Throwing herself against the old people she hugged the nearly suffocated boy and waddled in with the group to the interior of the house. The entire neighborhood was now peering over black-pointy line fences or the few marble and gold pillars that sat the metal apart. Curious and annoyed at such a disturbance in the middle of the day.
12:46 PM, Marigold manner first floor common room
"Well old boy we figured that there had been a mix up and beating up people or not at the end of the day you still assaulted a prisoner! A law breaker! Why on earth wouldn't we want you out of prison when you've done nothing all that wrong!" The old man chortled, his facial hair, a arm sized bit of beard straightening and curling down to his chest as he laughed.
Much in the same manner his wife patiently nodded her head, eyes closed and a smile planted on her lips. A trademark of the Marigold line was their pristine white clothes and unlike her husband, who wore something more like Kites suit, her dress was much more like the woman sitting in a lush seat off to the side of the group. Flower like, flowing and dainty. While the two men talked the women seemed content to gently talk about some unrelated topic, looking over the seats when needed and talking among themselves for the meantime. It was apparently decided each member of the household would get a turn to speak with Kite, even that much was apparent to him given he was used to large conversations in this kind of setting.
"In short we planned to get you out, have you examined sure but we never expected you to up and flee the kingdom like that! You were the talk of the town for sometime afterward too with this business of hunting down criminals-- had me worried and freezing in the night that's what! At the end of the day it matters that you're safe and you're back with the fact I can lecture you like this just being icing on some delicious cake. Speaking of cake have you eaten? Marion and Marie have been trying out these new recipes recently and--" The lord began only to have Kite lean forward in his chair and somewhat rudely get talked over.
"Mother? You started to cook again?" Red eyes searched out the youthful vision in the room, the similarly haired women looked over he chair and smiled a bit, turning the green and black Bergère on plush carpet with a flash of movement on her part.
"Oh yes. My son jumping country made me scramble to pick up hobbies. Cooking was one, another was trying my hand at sword play," She let out a laugh as Kite started tripping over himself making a storm of protesting grunts and open mouthed stares.
"Swords?! No! Dangerous!"
"And hunting criminals isn't?"
"I need--"
"You need a mothers love~"
"Gfhurh...ngh..." Kite puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms mumbling on his breath as he blushed a deep shade of scarlet, the room flooding with yet more laughter on Marion and Eisal's part.
"You always did let your mother get the better of you old boy. Glad that no matter how many criminals you chase down that we'll always have our lovable Kite. So many buttons to push and you only arrived recently. Guess we'll just have to make up for lost time?" Eisal began before coughing and holding up both of his hands, palm first.
"I kid, I jest. We're glad that you're back old boy. Wouldn't soon have you fleeing the estate on account of how bad we're drilling into you. For a long time we thought we'd be angry or crying when we met you so this is a much nicer alternative. The house was a great deal more quiet when you left-- excited when news came in yes but ultimately a much more sad place. We've missed you and... well... I'm for one overjoyed that we made it back to port safe and sound. I wont have you working off that debt but I surely demand at least a few hugs and a very good reason as to why you fled!"
"Sorry. Heart getting the better of this prune like body," He let out another heart laugh, dropping back in his seat and giving his wife the opportunity to scoot her chair across the carpet to get nearest to Kite, grabbing his right hand in both of her hands.
"Deary, I'd love to hear all about your journey ESPECIALLY if you've gotten some one special waiting for you out on the sea but I think your mother has earned herself an audience with you. She's been holding herself back for months now and frankly I'd sooner have her hugging you and sobbing then flinging herself across furniture to hug you. Can't be paying off a fortune in repairing the house and getting you out of jail," She made a game of winking.
"I get a few jokes in too. Go on Kite, you got a story to tell her and she's flesh and blood," She gave a contented sigh and scooted back to her husband, gripping his hand tightly and looking into his eyes with a knowing sparkle.
"As if you're not family too," Kite started, earning a misty eyed stare from the two older folks.
1:12 PM, Marigold manner third floor guest bedroom
"For the longest time I was sure it was a contest to see who was more sad to see you gone. Me or them. None of us could figure why you'd up and leave-- never a coward and hardly someone who fears the law. Was someone threatening you?" Marie began once she had successfully dragged her son up some flights of stairs, into a room at the top of the manner filled with but a bed and a wardrobe as well as some bits and boggles like a sewing machine and a weapons rack.
The room was clean, but seemed to have been Frankenstein together. Lavish curtains of bright yellow, deep earthen browns and magnificently carved oaken bed-frame, a wardrobe contrasted against the spartan metal-knight suit holding twin dark scabbards.
"I was diseased, I still am," Kite hung his head a bit in the room expecting silence to overtake him and instead he felt a rush of cold air and then sudden warmth across his chest.
Embraced by his mother, who wrapped arms around his neck, shook and closed her eyes as she leaned over his neck. He was simply captured and after long he closed his eyes too, wrapped his own arms around his mom. Time seemed to slow down and a growing sense of content nestled into into his chest, by the time a voice finally started up again he felt the urge to fall asleep then and there standing up. Something that now vaguely embarrassed him on account of how relaxed he had gotten and put a certain steel to his stance that prevented him from considering such things.
"If it was a question of health you could have seen a doctor. I wouldn't soon lose you after your father-- Why would you being ill force you out of the Kingdom? Why all this trouble?" She spoke over his neck, her grip tightening to show the depths of her concern and confusion.
"Not bodily ills, that of the mind. I had some poison in my head that-- I nearly beat a man to death and such rage has only become increasingly more common. I was a danger to you all...! I couldn't stand the thought of hurting anyone, so once that terrible incident happened I was convinced I could no longer control myself. I fled because I was so sure that I could find Father and fix myself!"
"Find him...?"
"Yes! I tried so hard Mother, believe me I did! On the barest traces of detail I sat out onto the grand line searching high and low. At every turn I thought I was near that horizon-- that goal but it was all just grasping at fog. Even now I'm unsure where he went and whether or not it was because of the same curse fallen on myself. I was a fool to assume this much, to leave him on such a naive notion but... it felt so real. Something compelled me to go on and I was so desperate to come back. Even now, holding back tears of joy I'm in fear of not being able to,"
"Nonsense! Nonsense nonsense utter nonsense! You act as if you have to support the world on those shoulders but you have a Mother! You're surrounded by love! Its an unconditional sort that doesn't demand you be of a certain mind! Even if you did try hurting us we'd never abandon you and would get you the help you need. Married to your father for as long as I was I'm sure I know how to quell that fire,"
"So Father did suffer from this rage?" Kite stiffened, pulled away from his mother, keeping his hands on her shoulders and look her in the eyes, his own wide and his mouth thinly pressed as his heart hammered away at his chest.
"Yes... He was... he did have some anger. Rage I suspect that might have led you to run from here. But it was never something uncontrollable," His mother raised her blue eyes from the floor, fresh tears streaming across her face from the earlier emotionally charged sentences.
"Under control? But... didn't he leave? Why else would he have left here if it weren't for this blood lust?" Kites hands dropped from his mother, head tilting to the right in question with his brows arching.
"It's not a simple tale of abandonment," More tears flushed from her eyes as she walked across the ornate deep earthen carpet that decorated a flush wood flooring, all the way to a distant window, parting the yellow drapes and looking out to the courtyard below.
"I'm beginning to guess that much," Kite answered back, walking after her and pressing into her hand two daggers which at first elicited a gasp and then arched brow only to evolve into the woman looking up to her son and her lips quivering anew.
"How?" She asked, barely able to sound out that much, the knives being rubbed with her spare left hand almost carefully like they'd fade away from sight at any second.
"Far away from here on an island that threatened my very life. I don't recognize them and all this talk of my dad, you're crying... I hate to make you sad mother, you know I do. But I suspected these had something to do with me. Now I'm thinking they've something to do with Father," He pressed for more answers and yet was gentle with his tone already concerned for how worked up his dear mother was getting.
"These are his. Perhaps you don't see, but I do. Fresh in my mind, every drop for drop detail. These were your fathers knives and he did his best to never leave them behind. He was a man of tradition, the kind that wouldn't allow him to abandon his wife. He was... so strong... I wasn't. I never told you the full story and now you suffer. I wish,"
"No. No more secrets, no more regrets Mother. We'll start at the beginning," Kite hugged her close to him, taking the initiative to do so and getting a shaky sigh from his rattled parent in return.
1:20 PM, Marigold manner third floor guest bedroom
"He was killed in a fight, someone managed to goad him into it and he died a very violent death. Those responsible paid but it wasn't enough. I was such a mess that it took the charity of two nobles to help me bring you up and since you've been a child I always tried to be stronger for your sake and to pay back that kindness. Not telling you what had happened was my way of avoiding the reality of it all and when you left I've been thinking of a million ways to break the truth-- to try and redeem myself. I can't say its like I imagined but... for the first time in years I feel like I can breath,"
"Almost ironic my son is the one doing the consoling, listening to me. I'll just have to do better and tease you more,"
Kite had taken to sitting on the bed and by now had his arms supported on his legs by his elbows. Leaning forward with palms hiding his face, though he was not crying the pressure to his face was a constant reminder this wasn't a dream. His mother through that inherent parental sixth sense was able to tell he needed some time and fell silent, wadding over to the bed before sitting down beside her son. Placing a gloved right hand onto his right shoulder she slowly rocked the boy back and forth, humming to herself and rubbing a spot onto his back. Despair hadn't caught hold of him fully and he wasn't about to shut down but words failed him, his lower lip was being harshly bitten back by his teeth as he held back whatever noise his body wanted to make.
Losing track of time he just swayed there on the bed, his backside being enveloped by the soft plushy nature of the white comforter bedspread. Flower designs distorted by the two bodies weight and wrinkling up something fierce with the added constant movement. Neither of the group was paying such small details mind, Kite was pressing his eyes shut and his mother had her entire attention devoted to her shocked boy.
His fuming in silence was to end soon, it became apparent when his hands dropped down palm up on his lap and he let out a long exhale. His body deflating some and then inflating with an equally as shaky breath. When he spoke words felt alien, strange in his mouth and some vague sense of nostalgia washed over him. A feeling that had clung to him near the tail end of his journey on an island of mist, slugs and crabs.
"I'm not going to ask for an apology. I want to thank you for finally telling me. But I need you to tell me now if you've forgotten anything or lack the strength to go further... because this closure could mean the world to me. Once we start going I don't know if I'll be able to stop asking you questions Mother. In the time that I've left until now my manners, my ability to hold back... they've waned. So please," He turned to Marie, red eyes pleading silently and wavering with their honest intensity.
"Of course. I can do that much, especially with you here," She offered a smile, only to get another big hug from her ever-loyal lap-dog turned son.
She was more than happy to get him leaning across to give her a bear hug and fought back the urge to wail some more or grab him with an equally as large hug. It had been so long since she wore such a big smile and the corners of her mouth were beginning to ache. The pain being a call back to the days of Kites youth back when he was a much more bumble-y kind of youth who constantly needed to be doted upon or to tug at his 'mummies' skirt to show her something.
Retracting from the hug and clearing his throat the young man adjusted how he sat on the bed. Naturally leaving his legs off the side but turning to the left he was now looking his parent fully in the eyes. Sitting up straight, proper, his hands sat neatly on his thighs. Idly smoothing out fabric and tending to putting his knives in their originally holsters. His dads knives, meanwhile, were sat off to the side on the wardrobes inside floor. Not forgotten but put out of reach for now.
"What was the purpose of those knives? As far as I can remember I got mine as gifts but why would Father have his own set? Were they from the Marigolds? From you?" He leaned in, eyes unblinking and fixated.
"I was always buying you two clothes, or stuffed animals for you. Never something like weapons, well not until recently perhaps. Those knives were apart of some ritual your father carried on from his father and from that father from their father, sort of like an heirloom only instead of one set of knives they were commissioned specially for each individual family member. You really do not remember? Your Father told you a story and everything when you were younger, truth be told we were worried you'd never sleep after hearing it from how excited you were when you got the knives," Marie took a hand and held it to her face as she let out a delightful snort, clearly enjoying the memory.
"Bits and pieces... Bits and pieces," He sighed, huffing a bit when he caught his mothers teasing smirk.
"Well, it all starts in a land far above the clouds," Marie began, arms spreading around and hands gesturing to aid in her story.
What was wiped away by the sands of time and the changing nature of a boys mind had been reinforced, remolded by a fresh new narrative. Each winding turn of the tale had him sitting on the edge of the bed in anticipation. For Marie, only for the merest instance, it was like some time traveling magic and once or twice she had to stop to sniffle or wipe clean a tear dealing with the apologies of a now confused son as to why she was crying now-- that if he had done something she had to say so.
2:00 PM, Marigold manner second floor bath chamber
"Skypiea?" Kite practically spelled the word out with how carefully he recited the name, committing it to memory and at the same time prompting the name itself as a question for his Mother and yet the way he tilted his head to the right and raised his brow-- it earned another snicker from her.
"I can hear you pressing against the door you freak! Privacy privacy PRIVACY!" Kite shouted, bath water pooling and threatening to splash right over the side of the somewhat porcelain bowl-like pool.
"Juuuuust making sure you don't make a break for it~ Clothes will come in a bit. I think I'll pick out a dress or something if you keep up that attitude," Marie was having far too much fun with this and before Kite could protest the click of her feet on cold tile faded into the distance.
"Eh...frekafrakafrekafraka," Kite mumbled to himself, dipping his face just below the water so just his scowling red eyes peered over the bubbly froth of the interior bathwater.
The bathhouse that was kept inside of the manner was a vision of paradise. Cream colored walls decorated with winged cherubs, what wasn't priceless art treated to handle the harsh heat of bath water was some kind of center piece like vases on pillars and lovely fake vines that climb up the walls and act as positions for clothes or towels to be hung on. The entire space was largely empty save for the pit of the bath, a bowl of porcelain set into the floor so that one could simply walk from the door, dip down some and have the whole room to themselves. In this way it could be said the entire room was a bath, rather than just a bath room. The water itself came from a center-like fountain that almost looked like an umbrella. A thin center piece with a sprouting top that allowed hot water to cascade down in sheets and soak along the bath pit and give its users room to splash about. Kite, of course, simply sat in one corner and scrubbed soap along into his hair, across his body. Working clean knots and dirt that stuck to him from his latest adventures.
"Starting to miss this treatment. Sure beats a ship bath," Kite chuckled to himself a bit, relaxed and ready to start cracking jokes now that the weariness was being washed clean off his body.
The story had left him with some questions but, taking a page out of his mothers book, he decided to focus on himself for once and prioritized relaxing for a change before he started stress out again. Talks of dinner and of staying the night were given and agreed to, instead of fighting or blushing at so much being handed to him the young man was relieved. Even he was surprised with how well he was taking all this news, was impressed with how he didn't storm off or blatantly deny everything.
Running hands through his hair, yanking out tied ends and massaging his scalp he came back to reality. Thoroughly reminded himself that he was putting off even praise until he was completely spotless. The scent of lavender and roses filled his nose and the fragrance rose to even the mist, filtering out fogged over windows set high near the painted foot of the bath house. Water continued to pour out of the spigot and mist intensified in the room, circling around the naked male and blanketing him as he laid back and sighed. Drifting in the water, eyes closed. Hands folded across his chest he let out a healthy yawn and stretched his legs some before going slack.
Once or twice he very nearly drifted off and against his better willpower that opened up the opportunity to review what had happened thus far. Instead of shaking his head he let out an annoyed grunt and relented, letting his mind drift as he floated along in the bathwater.
'You're from a place in the sky Kite. A genuine angel, your father. Those scars on your back weren't from some injury! They were wings, wings that were clipped off when you were young. A rite that's been repeated in your family for countless generations, since even your father was unable to tell me exactly when it started outside of that story. You always let kids get to you when they called you a monster but you shouldn't! Just hold your head high, look down on them if you have to! People around here are simply jealous, anything abnormal or exotic incites such emotion. In a kingdom ruled by appearance those that can't capture hearts fully will drag out the ire of man. Of course my boy would be the one to get such attention-- I mean look at me. I'm beautiful right? Stands to reason you'd get those looks, make people all sorts of flustered!' Kite spat out some water after having opened his mouth in silent protest, flapping his arms and falling below the bath water.
"Nnngggg...." Kite let out a grumble as he stood up in the deep water, hot steam and soapy froth pouring off of his pale white skin as he skulked off towards the door to secure a towel and dry himself.
He recalled mention of clothes and to even get them he needed to be dry.
3 Days Later, 5:00 PM, Marigold manner backyard
Rounding around to the center of the odd hedges Kite drew both of his daggers, flicking them around his fingers at such a speed the steel was practically a wheeled blur of silver. His black gloves like an mad spider spinning an ever increasing fast set of movements that earned a clap from his mom before she finally drew her long sword from her own scabbard. Flinging the black sheath with silver bands onto the grass she executed a few test swishes into the air before finally pointing the weapon at her son, a smile placed itself on her lips and her eyes squinted. The tease of her sword blade swishing back and forth acting as a taunt to get her son to charge forth and attempt a round of hits. There were no witty retorts, just an equally as cocky smile from the young lad as he took the daggers and dashed forward, keeping his body low to the ground and bringing his arms forward. A flash of dark fabric and silver against silver.
One hit to her sword, two hits, three hits, five hits! His arms swung forward and hangs continued to spin the blades as the slapped against the defense of his mothers longsword. Rather than swing away at his own defenses Marie played it safe and simply tilted her sword at various angles his her free hand to brace her wrist and make sure that the weapon wasn't knocked clean from her own grip. Once or twice though she was forced to back up and retreat modifying her stance or twist her sword around to a flat edge.
She started her attacks without warning and it got a widened stare from her boy, though he had been a knight years prior and trained against swords her technique was excellent. Her wrist flowed and the sword followed in wide arcs, diagonal swings and forward thrusts. That spinning blade trick was cut short as Kite worked to pinch off sections of her sword or catch it in between the points of his daggers. Falling back on training he tried to wrestle the weapon free but his opponent had long since abandoned the thought of doing this own handed. Using both hands she resisted and continued to flourish the blade, swing it and dart it forward. Meters were traded for meters as the hedges shadows washed over the fighters. A minutes dance began stretching into several, both sides breathing harshly as they tried to outlast one another.
A couple times Kite nearly had the upper hand and was preparing to bring his pommel down upon his Mothers hands. Not enough to hurt, but enough to force her into dropping the weapons. Instead he found himself clenching his teeth as his daggers vibrated and shook. Though he never dropped his weapons every time his mother twisted her blade into tapping on his own weapons he found the shaking to get worse. He took to avoiding what he could, circled around and used his superior agility to close in the narrow gapes and defeat the purpose of a long weapon. Marie, a veteran at sword play apparently, realized this and took to winding his blades even more. Winding her sword back and bringing it above her head she slashed it horizontally banging it against approaching daggers, the heavy of her swing tapping against the height of Kites arcs and swishes. Each strike was carefully planned to occur just after the boy made and a swung and he paid for the interceptions with a growing pain in his hands.
By the time he had learned just how to curve to avoid the parry his bones were starting to feel the soreness of his skin. He could only just narrowly avoid clipping the metal and that meant stalling out strikes. Jumping away, ducking or straight up running from strikes. This only served to make the gap between him and Marie bigger and with each gain she simply had more ground to defend with a sword that was longer than a mans arm possibly.
Sweat clung to either individuals brows, hair sticking to their forehead when it wasn't whipping about in the wind. Their shadows doing much the same to the greenery bellow, intertwining with the hedges and the fences. In the sparse seconds Kite got to breath while they ran to new positions in the center of the garden he appreciated how skilled his Mother had gotten. In his mind he remembered her as a fairly soft spoken woman who often left physical labor to others. Not out of weakness, but perhaps from the absence of his Father. At the time Kite had considered that his Mother perhaps preferred other duties and even her fondness of mentioning clothes served to fuel this.
She was fighter, just like Kite. He let loose a new grin and gave chase, barring his daggers forward with the intent to finally knock away that blade! He looked like a projectile nearly zooming across the grass, blades of green flying up to circulate around him as he gave it his all. Muscles screamed and air pumped through his vessels. Red touched upon his face and sweat flew off of him, his Mother met the efforts with a charge of her own. Leading with the blade behind her and only swinging it to the front when a few feet remained between her and her son.
The echo of metal on metal sung out into the air, sparks flew off the blades when they met and the fiercest kind of laughter heard in a while resounded out of the backyard. A Mother and her Son sparring, an oddity perhaps, but not among fellow duelist.
One hit to her sword, two hits, three hits, five hits! His arms swung forward and hangs continued to spin the blades as the slapped against the defense of his mothers longsword. Rather than swing away at his own defenses Marie played it safe and simply tilted her sword at various angles his her free hand to brace her wrist and make sure that the weapon wasn't knocked clean from her own grip. Once or twice though she was forced to back up and retreat modifying her stance or twist her sword around to a flat edge.
She started her attacks without warning and it got a widened stare from her boy, though he had been a knight years prior and trained against swords her technique was excellent. Her wrist flowed and the sword followed in wide arcs, diagonal swings and forward thrusts. That spinning blade trick was cut short as Kite worked to pinch off sections of her sword or catch it in between the points of his daggers. Falling back on training he tried to wrestle the weapon free but his opponent had long since abandoned the thought of doing this own handed. Using both hands she resisted and continued to flourish the blade, swing it and dart it forward. Meters were traded for meters as the hedges shadows washed over the fighters. A minutes dance began stretching into several, both sides breathing harshly as they tried to outlast one another.
A couple times Kite nearly had the upper hand and was preparing to bring his pommel down upon his Mothers hands. Not enough to hurt, but enough to force her into dropping the weapons. Instead he found himself clenching his teeth as his daggers vibrated and shook. Though he never dropped his weapons every time his mother twisted her blade into tapping on his own weapons he found the shaking to get worse. He took to avoiding what he could, circled around and used his superior agility to close in the narrow gapes and defeat the purpose of a long weapon. Marie, a veteran at sword play apparently, realized this and took to winding his blades even more. Winding her sword back and bringing it above her head she slashed it horizontally banging it against approaching daggers, the heavy of her swing tapping against the height of Kites arcs and swishes. Each strike was carefully planned to occur just after the boy made and a swung and he paid for the interceptions with a growing pain in his hands.
By the time he had learned just how to curve to avoid the parry his bones were starting to feel the soreness of his skin. He could only just narrowly avoid clipping the metal and that meant stalling out strikes. Jumping away, ducking or straight up running from strikes. This only served to make the gap between him and Marie bigger and with each gain she simply had more ground to defend with a sword that was longer than a mans arm possibly.
Sweat clung to either individuals brows, hair sticking to their forehead when it wasn't whipping about in the wind. Their shadows doing much the same to the greenery bellow, intertwining with the hedges and the fences. In the sparse seconds Kite got to breath while they ran to new positions in the center of the garden he appreciated how skilled his Mother had gotten. In his mind he remembered her as a fairly soft spoken woman who often left physical labor to others. Not out of weakness, but perhaps from the absence of his Father. At the time Kite had considered that his Mother perhaps preferred other duties and even her fondness of mentioning clothes served to fuel this.
She was fighter, just like Kite. He let loose a new grin and gave chase, barring his daggers forward with the intent to finally knock away that blade! He looked like a projectile nearly zooming across the grass, blades of green flying up to circulate around him as he gave it his all. Muscles screamed and air pumped through his vessels. Red touched upon his face and sweat flew off of him, his Mother met the efforts with a charge of her own. Leading with the blade behind her and only swinging it to the front when a few feet remained between her and her son.
The echo of metal on metal sung out into the air, sparks flew off the blades when they met and the fiercest kind of laughter heard in a while resounded out of the backyard. A Mother and her Son sparring, an oddity perhaps, but not among fellow duelist.
8:00 PM, Marigold manner second floor dining hall
"Glad to see your adventurers outside the Kingdom didn't lead to the total loss of a knight. You were a mite better before you made that daring escape, and I'll mourn for that. Did well to avoid the Winding like you did, took me many a month to learn the secret to do that and you took it head on your first day! Might even be able to teach it to you before all is said and done," Marie bowed her head in a mocking way, tilting back up with a wide grin on her face and closed eyes.
"It was a cheap trick and I've fought all manner of scoundrels in my journey across open waters. Better be careful or this Knight will show you just why he was a prodigy when it came to law enforcement," Kite dryly commented, sticking out his tongue with that lazy half lidded stare of his.
Wincing prematurely he prepared himself to a smack to the back of his head and sure enough his mother clicking her tongue reached around his chair and popped him for being such a smart mouth. Letting loose a low rumble of a chuckle from his throat before busting out laughing with his mom over the business of their sword match earlier today. They continued chatting among themselves as the Lord and Lady of the house got ready for dinner taking as much time as the food nearly to pick out their clothes, as always it was identical to what they wore the first day Kite came in save with the addition of a few different shades of white or more jewelry and a different servant or two.
The family was sat at a round table in a room that was more drape than wall, lights filtering in from the township and illuminating the romantic atmosphere of the chamber. Much like the bath there were fake vines spiraling along sections of the wall and made their way into the ceiling, only instead of just being greenery they clasped candles and kept more light in the room on the off chance the windows didn't help any. The flames flickered and waved as hand servants filed into the room. Dinner carts, metal frames on wheels with dishes hidden behind metal half-circle covers descended and swarmed around. Sat on the lilac covered table cloth each dish was revealed in order of smallest to largest. Soups, breads, all manner of fish and game steamed the room with their smell. Generally a sort of menu was never the Marigold way and instead it was almost like a Las-Vegas style buffet. Plates found their way to each participant of the feast as did silverware.
Kite took to sampling the game meat, birds, fish, predatory animals, all kinds of juicy red littered his pallet and was wolfed down with a surprising speed. Earning a clap from the nobles and a wide-eyed stare from his Mother. Minutes into the meal it became apparent that the young man had a stomach for fine dining and anything he reached for was gladly given, a dinner topic being made out of how fast food was disappearing. Everyone had their fill as it wasn't long before that mechanical pace slowed down and the hunter was forced to lean back in his wing chair groaning and letting loose burps. He tried his best to sample the water but found the best he could do was get a few splashes down his throat before his stomach let it be known he was at carrying capacity.
It hadn't been but a few days at most that Kite had been treated to a feast of similar tastes, he was simply a glutton. Having been used to this as a child being denied it as an adult for any stretch of months or years had served to light a fire in the pit of his stomach forcing him to become a beast when the next opportunity of a large feeding arose. Granted instead of being insulted most of the people at the table took this as a compliment and were glad the he was capable of eating so much.
The dinner staff, however, grimaced and wondered with expecting horror when Kite would get up from his seat and demand more food. Though they had respect for the hunter and welcomed the young lord back they feared the day that he would go back to his hunger pang ways. His stamina was one thing but his hunger was another, on his worse days he would raid the pantry and dodge his mother tossing rags at him while downing all manner of sweets and jams. The kid was a real stinker back then, but unlike most noble kids or those in such a position his body was willing to keep up with the abuse of food.
"Cahwn't... eayt... anothehr... bihte," Kite groaned, resting his hands on his slightly expanded gut that strained under his clothes, closing his eyes and relaxing further into his chair as he let out a contented sigh.
Somewhere off in the house the pantry also sighed, as the tyrant from old had truly been sated. For now all was safe and it wasn't likely that the young lord would get up now, run off and raid the poor room again. In a similar manner the servants also silently cheered.
"What a little pudgy-wudgy-boy. Reminds me of when you used to go off and grab all the sweets you could carry. Remember what happened when Mommy found out," Marie got the urge to tease her boy some more, hoping to see even a flinch from the distended tick that was collapsed in his seat currently.
"Teahse lahyturh... tyhoo fuuullll," Kite answered back groggily, another round of laughter came up from the table and his mom couldn't help herself but release that giddy laugh-snort she was known for.
Kite could scarcely hear right but the rest of the dinner was pretty much just revisiting old memories, happy memories.
"It was a cheap trick and I've fought all manner of scoundrels in my journey across open waters. Better be careful or this Knight will show you just why he was a prodigy when it came to law enforcement," Kite dryly commented, sticking out his tongue with that lazy half lidded stare of his.
Wincing prematurely he prepared himself to a smack to the back of his head and sure enough his mother clicking her tongue reached around his chair and popped him for being such a smart mouth. Letting loose a low rumble of a chuckle from his throat before busting out laughing with his mom over the business of their sword match earlier today. They continued chatting among themselves as the Lord and Lady of the house got ready for dinner taking as much time as the food nearly to pick out their clothes, as always it was identical to what they wore the first day Kite came in save with the addition of a few different shades of white or more jewelry and a different servant or two.
The family was sat at a round table in a room that was more drape than wall, lights filtering in from the township and illuminating the romantic atmosphere of the chamber. Much like the bath there were fake vines spiraling along sections of the wall and made their way into the ceiling, only instead of just being greenery they clasped candles and kept more light in the room on the off chance the windows didn't help any. The flames flickered and waved as hand servants filed into the room. Dinner carts, metal frames on wheels with dishes hidden behind metal half-circle covers descended and swarmed around. Sat on the lilac covered table cloth each dish was revealed in order of smallest to largest. Soups, breads, all manner of fish and game steamed the room with their smell. Generally a sort of menu was never the Marigold way and instead it was almost like a Las-Vegas style buffet. Plates found their way to each participant of the feast as did silverware.
Kite took to sampling the game meat, birds, fish, predatory animals, all kinds of juicy red littered his pallet and was wolfed down with a surprising speed. Earning a clap from the nobles and a wide-eyed stare from his Mother. Minutes into the meal it became apparent that the young man had a stomach for fine dining and anything he reached for was gladly given, a dinner topic being made out of how fast food was disappearing. Everyone had their fill as it wasn't long before that mechanical pace slowed down and the hunter was forced to lean back in his wing chair groaning and letting loose burps. He tried his best to sample the water but found the best he could do was get a few splashes down his throat before his stomach let it be known he was at carrying capacity.
It hadn't been but a few days at most that Kite had been treated to a feast of similar tastes, he was simply a glutton. Having been used to this as a child being denied it as an adult for any stretch of months or years had served to light a fire in the pit of his stomach forcing him to become a beast when the next opportunity of a large feeding arose. Granted instead of being insulted most of the people at the table took this as a compliment and were glad the he was capable of eating so much.
The dinner staff, however, grimaced and wondered with expecting horror when Kite would get up from his seat and demand more food. Though they had respect for the hunter and welcomed the young lord back they feared the day that he would go back to his hunger pang ways. His stamina was one thing but his hunger was another, on his worse days he would raid the pantry and dodge his mother tossing rags at him while downing all manner of sweets and jams. The kid was a real stinker back then, but unlike most noble kids or those in such a position his body was willing to keep up with the abuse of food.
"Cahwn't... eayt... anothehr... bihte," Kite groaned, resting his hands on his slightly expanded gut that strained under his clothes, closing his eyes and relaxing further into his chair as he let out a contented sigh.
Somewhere off in the house the pantry also sighed, as the tyrant from old had truly been sated. For now all was safe and it wasn't likely that the young lord would get up now, run off and raid the poor room again. In a similar manner the servants also silently cheered.
"What a little pudgy-wudgy-boy. Reminds me of when you used to go off and grab all the sweets you could carry. Remember what happened when Mommy found out," Marie got the urge to tease her boy some more, hoping to see even a flinch from the distended tick that was collapsed in his seat currently.
"Teahse lahyturh... tyhoo fuuullll," Kite answered back groggily, another round of laughter came up from the table and his mom couldn't help herself but release that giddy laugh-snort she was known for.
Kite could scarcely hear right but the rest of the dinner was pretty much just revisiting old memories, happy memories.
2 Days later, 4:00 PM, Bourgeois Kingdom Knight-Captains office lower yard
For the first time in a very long time Ulric was speechless, looking at Kite leaning of his desk with such a cocky glint in his eye. It took every bit of resistance in his body to not leap over that tiny wooden table throwing wanted posters to the wind. Instead he took to stroking his red beard and smoothing over what little hair remained on his head. The mans face was oddly circular and small compared to his relatively large body, and even in the silver armor sculpted to a nearly androgynous shape it bulged when he wore it. Light pooling off the reflective metal the hulk picked himself up from his stool of a chair and offered his hand to the hunter, a metallic gauntlet with a brown leather underbelly holding the segmented pieces all together. Kite quickly took the appendage in his own hand and the two males grunted as they gripped each other tightly, silver hair getting his word out before baldy could.
"No tricks, no back up and you're not allowed to contest the results. When I win I want you to stop this idiotic game you've got going. No more soliciting the Marigolds with notes or town criers and certainly no more thrown vegetables and fruits. I'm getting sick of cleaning them up and your shiny head is far too easy to discern in the moonlight," Kite spat out blank faced, red eyes locking onto the squinted beady yellows of Ulric.
"I've got naught a clue what you mean but if its a spar you want, a spar you'll get. Meet me outside in just a few. I want there to be a crowd just so I can to appeal to at least one of those requests. You wont be able to make an excuse as to why you lost," Ulric let loose a disturbing jiggle of a chuckle before releasing the thinner mans hand and walking off to one of the rooms off to the side, under the archway hanging over his desk.
Rather than peer into the cells lining the other end of the hallway of a room Kite exited the rampart dug room and filed out into the open aired square. Taking his back to a nearby wall of three or so feet to the right of the door Kite leaned against the solid structure and gave out a sigh. At the request of his mother he was going to challenge this bully once and for all to not only prove to the other knights but to himself that he was an adept fighter and more than capable of containing his temper. Though he had shadows of doubt festering in his heart the organ also thumped along in excitement for a chance to put to rest a small-headed morons pride. Ulric was big, but the guy was a lummox.
When the door finally slammed open and shut the sun was starting to climb back down from the sky, streaks of orange littering an all but vacant blue canvas. One that was quickly turning purple and showing the nature of the hour. Kite looked sky high before turning back to the ground, remarking on the fortune that a storm wasn't to come like it had a day earlier. The smell of the earth was still fresh and it found its way into the young mans lungs as he looked to see who he'd be pelting today.
Wearing his signature shiny armor and sporting a sword at least as long as his thigh, weighing in at a heavy super heavy amount was Ulric. He had made a name for himself apparently as the other guards, similar armored shapes with helmet drawn leaving the imagination to guess what they looked like, were cheering for him. Claiming that he was 'Ulric the Strongarm' or 'Ulric the Stone'. A great restraint was taken for the hunter not to keel over laughing as those nicknames were even worse than the one stuck to Kite! His premature condescending was however cut short when without warning Ulric barreled forward yelling at the top of his lungs a battle cry.
With the grace of an obese walrus the shiny man charged forward holding his massive Zweihander in both hands, the wicked curved edge gleaming in coming-nights light. It lacked a cross guard so it was more or less a massive sharp spike with a wooden-brown looking handle. The details were kind of blurred and to Kite the type of sword didn't matter, he was hardly caught by surprise and took but four steps to the left and avoided the charge quite easily. Ulric had issues stopping and had to swing his body to the left and get another running start to try and bring his weapon down upon his enemy. The knights cheering wasn't helping the desperate atmosphere of the fight, even if Ulric was sloppy they seemed to think the fight was suitably intense.
"Surprise attacks should be a surprise. Like this," Kite offered to teach them all a lesson, grumbling under his breath about the quality of the fight he bent low and jumped up.
Right as Ulric was charging with his sword overhead again, doing his best to bring the massive sword down in a single arc he was given pause as a silver and black shape jumped up in the air. He didn't see much of anything as the heel of some boots smacked into his eye sockets and blinded him resulting in both the gross sound of hard boot on flabby flesh as well as the frankly girlish scream of a man being stepped on. In his pain, electric signals flaring up across his face, he swung his sword and brought it low trying to take the blunt end to smack Kite off. Not needing to look over his head, seeing the movement of those heavy arms and feeling the swoosh of air, Kite abandoned his post on the mans head and dropped down, pushing off with his toes to gracefully tap onto the ground below.
Another sickening noise breached the air, this time flabby flesh on hard metal and the very colorful language of a man who had just bashed himself with his own sword. Sporting a new bump on his head and a slight amount of blood Ulric barred his teeth and shook his head as he took aim at the pest who had caused him so much pain. This time instead of trying a charge and overhead strike he wildly flung the blade around, the chanting of the knights dying out as he let out garbled frothy screams. His face getting redder and redder as he did his best to manipulate the likely heavy sword into landing but one blow.
To the left, to the right Kite was able to calmly step back or bend his midsection to outmaneuver every whistling call of the blades edge. Rather than let out a taunt that lazy unforgiving stare never left Ulrics sight, a couple times it even appeared as if he was unaware of the environment around him and yet when nearing a wall or getting pushed up against the crowd he simply readjusted his backwards trek and was once again on the defense. It was only when Ulric started using his strikes to get some Kicks in that those daggers were unholstered from Kites hip. Singing their own ballad the steel clanged against armor and shook against the flesh within. Recalling on his sparring match with his own mom Kite was able to know just where to hit a dual sword wielder-- the telltale holes in their defense and how thoroughly limited they were on their off side. Using both hands like that meant there'd be more than one opportunity to get a smack or two in.
Twirling his blades Kite charged in, no longer weaving around attacks but anticipating them and moving behind them or beyond their reach. Taking pommels and edges he carved out piece after piece of the armor. The rattling tune of the failing defense causing his enemy to get even more desperate in his defense. Minutes into the stripping and desecration of his armor he was nearly spinning trying to his weight and the fact he had a sword to become some deadly kind of top and yet it still didn't prevent hits from being landed. With well timed ducks and blocks Kite was able to shoulder the brunt of the attacks and stop them landing more pokes with his tiny daggers. Granted some grunts were given for the effort on the lean-mean-knifing machine since while his opponent was a joke he did have some serious weight to him.
"All you can do is dodge and peck away at my armor you bird! Fight me like a man!" Ulric howled, sweat clinging to his face and causing his cherry of a head to look like it just got a fine coat of rain.
"What is this man? But a pile of fat! But enough talk, have at you," Kite showed his shiny whites as he once again ducked low and made for a tremendously high jump forcing his muscles to extend to their maxim as he took to the air.
Having a hang time of a few seconds he tucked his legs in to his chest and held his arms out, twirling his daggers as he spiraled just out of reach of the lumbering moron bellow. He began to sink and make his trip back to earth, the few meters he was able to pass once again shrinking as he made his way down. Flipping his pommels to their flat end he aimed for the blade of Ulric, sure enough the guy started bringing up his sword as a shield seeing that his enemy was likely going to try and hit his head again. Those eyes of his bulging when legs and sword ends were brought to bare against his weapon. At first, daggers pelted the surface of his blade riddling it with vibrations aimed to target nearest to his foil-- a sort of Achilles heel where the force of a mans strike or defense can be broken and turn the strength of his grip into a shaking mess. For added measure Kite flipped around and brought his legs out slamming his heels into the sword so it would drop out of Ulrics hands.
The piece of metal shook like a leaf in a hurricane and the kick ended up disarming Ulric completely, his armor chattered with the force of the blows and for a time all he could do was shake as Kite got to his legs and started rounding about to intercept him and fire off another cocky line. Rather than heel or give out some kind of defeat the now red-eyed sweat ogre made his last charge belting out another magnificent symphony of manliness. It hurt the ears and it strained his neck muscles being at such an octave you'd question whether it came from a fighter or a boy going through his passage into manhood.
Kite took his daggers up to his face and crossed them at the blades, a heavy gauntlet hit against them only for another to come to bare across his stomach. Compressing his flesh, kneading his unprotected diaphragm. Ulric smiled and Kite let out a tiny cough, averting his gaze from the dirty fighter. He had half expected it not to come to this and could only shake as he stood their, gut somewhat bruised from the impact of heavy metal and his body letting it known that it hurt. In a clearly labored effort Kite looked back at Ulric, pain being far from written on his face. Surprise had slowed the immediate response as Kite hardly expected a sword-user to be aware that his fists were also weapons but it also served as a harsh reminder to his Mothers lessons and the ones he had learned on the open sea. How unfortunate to forget them.
It was a scowl, a very deep and angry one. With a mouth like a snarl Kite spoke, his words a hiss.
"SAILING KNOT!" His currently crossed blades took aim on the protected chest of Ulric and the finishing shot of the fight rang out much like a church bell, the force of the impact leading to the unfortunate knight passing out on the spot but if not from that then embarrassment for the somewhat confused cheers that followed.
"No tricks, no back up and you're not allowed to contest the results. When I win I want you to stop this idiotic game you've got going. No more soliciting the Marigolds with notes or town criers and certainly no more thrown vegetables and fruits. I'm getting sick of cleaning them up and your shiny head is far too easy to discern in the moonlight," Kite spat out blank faced, red eyes locking onto the squinted beady yellows of Ulric.
"I've got naught a clue what you mean but if its a spar you want, a spar you'll get. Meet me outside in just a few. I want there to be a crowd just so I can to appeal to at least one of those requests. You wont be able to make an excuse as to why you lost," Ulric let loose a disturbing jiggle of a chuckle before releasing the thinner mans hand and walking off to one of the rooms off to the side, under the archway hanging over his desk.
Rather than peer into the cells lining the other end of the hallway of a room Kite exited the rampart dug room and filed out into the open aired square. Taking his back to a nearby wall of three or so feet to the right of the door Kite leaned against the solid structure and gave out a sigh. At the request of his mother he was going to challenge this bully once and for all to not only prove to the other knights but to himself that he was an adept fighter and more than capable of containing his temper. Though he had shadows of doubt festering in his heart the organ also thumped along in excitement for a chance to put to rest a small-headed morons pride. Ulric was big, but the guy was a lummox.
When the door finally slammed open and shut the sun was starting to climb back down from the sky, streaks of orange littering an all but vacant blue canvas. One that was quickly turning purple and showing the nature of the hour. Kite looked sky high before turning back to the ground, remarking on the fortune that a storm wasn't to come like it had a day earlier. The smell of the earth was still fresh and it found its way into the young mans lungs as he looked to see who he'd be pelting today.
Wearing his signature shiny armor and sporting a sword at least as long as his thigh, weighing in at a heavy super heavy amount was Ulric. He had made a name for himself apparently as the other guards, similar armored shapes with helmet drawn leaving the imagination to guess what they looked like, were cheering for him. Claiming that he was 'Ulric the Strongarm' or 'Ulric the Stone'. A great restraint was taken for the hunter not to keel over laughing as those nicknames were even worse than the one stuck to Kite! His premature condescending was however cut short when without warning Ulric barreled forward yelling at the top of his lungs a battle cry.
With the grace of an obese walrus the shiny man charged forward holding his massive Zweihander in both hands, the wicked curved edge gleaming in coming-nights light. It lacked a cross guard so it was more or less a massive sharp spike with a wooden-brown looking handle. The details were kind of blurred and to Kite the type of sword didn't matter, he was hardly caught by surprise and took but four steps to the left and avoided the charge quite easily. Ulric had issues stopping and had to swing his body to the left and get another running start to try and bring his weapon down upon his enemy. The knights cheering wasn't helping the desperate atmosphere of the fight, even if Ulric was sloppy they seemed to think the fight was suitably intense.
"Surprise attacks should be a surprise. Like this," Kite offered to teach them all a lesson, grumbling under his breath about the quality of the fight he bent low and jumped up.
Right as Ulric was charging with his sword overhead again, doing his best to bring the massive sword down in a single arc he was given pause as a silver and black shape jumped up in the air. He didn't see much of anything as the heel of some boots smacked into his eye sockets and blinded him resulting in both the gross sound of hard boot on flabby flesh as well as the frankly girlish scream of a man being stepped on. In his pain, electric signals flaring up across his face, he swung his sword and brought it low trying to take the blunt end to smack Kite off. Not needing to look over his head, seeing the movement of those heavy arms and feeling the swoosh of air, Kite abandoned his post on the mans head and dropped down, pushing off with his toes to gracefully tap onto the ground below.
Another sickening noise breached the air, this time flabby flesh on hard metal and the very colorful language of a man who had just bashed himself with his own sword. Sporting a new bump on his head and a slight amount of blood Ulric barred his teeth and shook his head as he took aim at the pest who had caused him so much pain. This time instead of trying a charge and overhead strike he wildly flung the blade around, the chanting of the knights dying out as he let out garbled frothy screams. His face getting redder and redder as he did his best to manipulate the likely heavy sword into landing but one blow.
To the left, to the right Kite was able to calmly step back or bend his midsection to outmaneuver every whistling call of the blades edge. Rather than let out a taunt that lazy unforgiving stare never left Ulrics sight, a couple times it even appeared as if he was unaware of the environment around him and yet when nearing a wall or getting pushed up against the crowd he simply readjusted his backwards trek and was once again on the defense. It was only when Ulric started using his strikes to get some Kicks in that those daggers were unholstered from Kites hip. Singing their own ballad the steel clanged against armor and shook against the flesh within. Recalling on his sparring match with his own mom Kite was able to know just where to hit a dual sword wielder-- the telltale holes in their defense and how thoroughly limited they were on their off side. Using both hands like that meant there'd be more than one opportunity to get a smack or two in.
Twirling his blades Kite charged in, no longer weaving around attacks but anticipating them and moving behind them or beyond their reach. Taking pommels and edges he carved out piece after piece of the armor. The rattling tune of the failing defense causing his enemy to get even more desperate in his defense. Minutes into the stripping and desecration of his armor he was nearly spinning trying to his weight and the fact he had a sword to become some deadly kind of top and yet it still didn't prevent hits from being landed. With well timed ducks and blocks Kite was able to shoulder the brunt of the attacks and stop them landing more pokes with his tiny daggers. Granted some grunts were given for the effort on the lean-mean-knifing machine since while his opponent was a joke he did have some serious weight to him.
"All you can do is dodge and peck away at my armor you bird! Fight me like a man!" Ulric howled, sweat clinging to his face and causing his cherry of a head to look like it just got a fine coat of rain.
"What is this man? But a pile of fat! But enough talk, have at you," Kite showed his shiny whites as he once again ducked low and made for a tremendously high jump forcing his muscles to extend to their maxim as he took to the air.
Having a hang time of a few seconds he tucked his legs in to his chest and held his arms out, twirling his daggers as he spiraled just out of reach of the lumbering moron bellow. He began to sink and make his trip back to earth, the few meters he was able to pass once again shrinking as he made his way down. Flipping his pommels to their flat end he aimed for the blade of Ulric, sure enough the guy started bringing up his sword as a shield seeing that his enemy was likely going to try and hit his head again. Those eyes of his bulging when legs and sword ends were brought to bare against his weapon. At first, daggers pelted the surface of his blade riddling it with vibrations aimed to target nearest to his foil-- a sort of Achilles heel where the force of a mans strike or defense can be broken and turn the strength of his grip into a shaking mess. For added measure Kite flipped around and brought his legs out slamming his heels into the sword so it would drop out of Ulrics hands.
The piece of metal shook like a leaf in a hurricane and the kick ended up disarming Ulric completely, his armor chattered with the force of the blows and for a time all he could do was shake as Kite got to his legs and started rounding about to intercept him and fire off another cocky line. Rather than heel or give out some kind of defeat the now red-eyed sweat ogre made his last charge belting out another magnificent symphony of manliness. It hurt the ears and it strained his neck muscles being at such an octave you'd question whether it came from a fighter or a boy going through his passage into manhood.
Kite took his daggers up to his face and crossed them at the blades, a heavy gauntlet hit against them only for another to come to bare across his stomach. Compressing his flesh, kneading his unprotected diaphragm. Ulric smiled and Kite let out a tiny cough, averting his gaze from the dirty fighter. He had half expected it not to come to this and could only shake as he stood their, gut somewhat bruised from the impact of heavy metal and his body letting it known that it hurt. In a clearly labored effort Kite looked back at Ulric, pain being far from written on his face. Surprise had slowed the immediate response as Kite hardly expected a sword-user to be aware that his fists were also weapons but it also served as a harsh reminder to his Mothers lessons and the ones he had learned on the open sea. How unfortunate to forget them.
It was a scowl, a very deep and angry one. With a mouth like a snarl Kite spoke, his words a hiss.
"SAILING KNOT!" His currently crossed blades took aim on the protected chest of Ulric and the finishing shot of the fight rang out much like a church bell, the force of the impact leading to the unfortunate knight passing out on the spot but if not from that then embarrassment for the somewhat confused cheers that followed.