Dragons, Dystopians, and Denial

Elias raised a brow when he noticed that Jerica seemed to suddenly have endless patience with him, but he didn't dwell on it too long. He appreciated her help, and he followed all her instructions wordlessly.

...Except when she said to hit her.

It wasn't like they were friends, but he didn't like to be violent against anyone who wasn't aggressive.

"You want me to hit you?" he asked, still holding his wooden sword up. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like you're going to be able to manage it anyway. Just try."

She sighed loudly at his hesitation. "HIT. ME."

Well, he wasn't going to ask her twice and test her patience.

With his feet and hands still in the proper position, he swung the sword and gathered the momentum to hit her shoulder, as asked.

Jerica raised her sword and deflected his clumsy blow easily. It wasn't a particularly good attempt, but it was an attempt, which was an improvement from moments before.

"Yeah, alright," Jerica said with a nod. "Try again. And this time try to actually hit me, don't just swing it lazily. I need to be able to see if you can handle this weight or if we need to go up or down. Get set."

Jerica easily deflected his hit, which didn't surprise him. She was likely very skilled with the sword, and any moves he would try would probably be deflected with ease.

That certainly made him feel better to hit her again.

He took a step forward and swung again, this time aiming toward the side of her chest.

Jerica lifted her sword, surprised that he'd actually tried this time. She thought she was going to have to threaten him before he put in an earnest effort. 'Hit me, before I hit you'

She moved her blade slightly outward to meet his sword so that it wouldn't jar her shoulder quite as badly when they collided. As soon as the blades made contact, Elias's flew out of his hands.

She wasn't particularly surprised.

She stepped to the side as the blade went clattering to the ground so that it wouldn't whack into her ankles as it slid to a stop beside her.

"You gotta hold on to it," Jerica repeated, gesturing for him to pick it back up. "But how'd that feel? That's about the weight of a standard sword. I prefer the lighter ones so I can move faster -- but those are a few inches longer, so you don't have to get quite as close. What do you want?"

The sword flew out of his hands, and Elias turned and watched it clatter to the floor. Luckily, he wasn't proud of his non-existent sword fighting abilities, so he watched it with wonder and once again reaffirmed that Jerica was a good swordsman. Swordswoman?

He walked over to bend up the wooden sword, letting it bounce in his hand as he tried to gauge the weight.

"Well, I don't really have a reference on what's good or not," he commented. "But I would prefer to be farther from the opponent."

The farther, the better.

"Alright, that's what I was thinking, too," Jerica said with a nod, then turned back towards the weapons wall and assessed the options.

She pulled out a stock sword and weighed it in her hand. The balance was all wrong. It tipped over to the right nearly as soon as she held it out from herself. She picked through two - three - more swords before she found one she liked for him. She slid it into a scabbard and held it out to him. "Take the wooden one too, we're going to need to practice on those for a bit before you'll be ready for this one."

She stood on her tiptoes to reach the bows and quivers filled with arrows. She pulled one of them down and notched an arrow, then lifted it and fired it almost instantly, barely even hesitating to aim it.

The arrow sank deep into the wood of one of the training machines on the far end of the room.

"Yeah, this one'll do for you," she said, unstringing it and sliding it into a tube. She handed it to him and then grabbed another one -- this one a recurved. She notched another arrow and fired it just as quickly, sinking it so close to the first one that the shafts touched. "And this one will do for me."

She unstrung that one as well and slid it into a tube, then looked for the sword she knew that she liked. She pulled various other daggers and throwing knives off the racks and tucked some into her own belt and dumped others into Elias's arms without an explanation.

"I've got some bedrolls in the chest--" Aerik walked into the room, and his eyes instantly landed on the machines on the fair end of the room. He scowled. "Jerica!"

She sighed. She was going to take the arrows out.

"What have I told you?" He scolded.

She rolled her eyes, reciting the answer as if she'd said it hundreds of times. "The machines are for hitting, not stabbing."

"That's right, the machines are for hitting," Aerik repeated a bit more forcefully than she'd said it. "Go get them."

She grumbled under her breath as she walked the length of the room to retrieve the arrows. He was embarrassing her, in front of the already-too-cocky boy.

She pulled the first arrow from the machine, then hesitated as she looked first one that she'd fired. The fletching was shaved off one side of it from the second that she'd fired. Oops.

She pulled it free too and turned back towards where she'd left the others. Aerik was pulling two bedrolls out of the chest. He turned back towards her, mouth pressed into a flat line. "You ruined my arrow, didn't you?"

"I'll re-fletch it when I get back," she muttered.

"Oh, I know you will," he said, taking them from her and setting them on top of the chest. "Come on, let's get your packs ready."

Jerica gestured at Elias. "You got any normal clothes for him?"

Elias did what Jerica asked, grabbing the swords and feeling it in his hands. He never thought he would ever be swinging a real sword around, but here he was. Then again, he never thought he'd be in an archaic medieval world riding horses and being bossed around by a teenage girl—but yet, here he was.

Jerica started to pile more things in his arms, and he had no choice but to follow around and be a walking backpack for her. She shot some arrows towards some training machine, and he made a note to learn how to do that. He was okay at shooting guns, so it couldn't have been that different, right?

Aerik then came in and started to yell at her, and he had to repress the growing smirk tugging his lips. Times like this made him remember that she was still a kid learning about the world, even if she was stubborn and bossy and arrogant.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jerica gestured towards him. Or, specifically, his clothes.

He looked down at himself, but it didn't help since he was carrying so much stuff.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" he asked defensively.

He wanted to badly say, "What's wrong with your clothes?" but decided against it.

"I mean, other than the fact that you look like a complete freak?"

Elias stared at her with a dead-panned expression.

"You're right," he said blankly. "I am the freak, so let's get new clothes."

"Well, as long as we're all in agreement!" Jerica said, voice a bit too bright. Mocking.

"Jer..." Aerik said tiredly. "Stop mocking him for, let's say five minutes? I feel like that's an achievable goal. Five. Minutes."

Jerica rolled her eyes and grabbed one of the bed rolls. "I'm gonna go get mine packed."

"Good." Aerik turned back towards Elias. "But... she is right. I know this is normal attire on Earth, but you'll stick out like a sore thumb here. And we need to get you to blend as well as you're able to blend, if you're gonna make it to Crevon."

Elias was glad she didn't seem to detect the tiny hint of sarcasm in his words. It made him wonder how far he could take it before she'd recognize sarcasm. Hmm. He'd have five minutes to think about this.

Aerik then turned to talk to him, and suddenly it dawned on him that, once they leave, he wouldn't get to hear Aerik's voice of reason. Just Jerica's arrogance.

He tried not to think about that too much.

"That's fair," he said, trying not to move too much so that the knives fell out of the pile of things he held. "Are there clothes I can borrow?"

"Yeah, I've got some extras. Let's go grab them."

Aerik took the weapons from Elias and directed him into Jerica's bedroom, where he'd laid out some clothes, then walked to the kitchen.

By the time Elias came to join them, they'd already just about finished up bundling up their packs. Aerik handed Jerica a pouch. She took it and peeked inside, and her eyebrows shot up. "Holy hell, Aerik!"

"Take it," he said. "I don't need it. That should be enough for a couple of horses and food on the road."

Jerica nodded, still a little stunned. "... Thank you."

Aerik clapped her on the shoulder as his only response, then turned towards Elias. "Those fit okay?"

Elias quickly put on the clothes Aerik offered, and surprisingly, they fit him well. Jerica was wearing somewhat baggy clothes, so it may have been hers, but he didn't know. Either way, he had no complaints if it meant it would help him blend in more. He folded his old clothes and nearly placed them down on the edge of the closet, then looked in the mirror. Not bad. He looked straight out of a fantasy book, but whatever. As long as he still had is rugged boots, he didn't mind.

"Yep. They fit okay," he said as he walked out for them to see. "Thank you for this. I suppose I blend in better now."