[AU] birds in the meadow and the weather's right

[sai_delgado]

The early-season snow's melted, and the weather's warmed back up enough that Susan's comfortable outdoors with naught more than a light jacket. Which is just as well, may it do ya, since she's established herself down on the edge of the grassy space where Susannah'd first taught her to throw the 'Riza plates, her targets a series of hay-bales, posts, and pumpkins at the other side.

Her hair's braided down her back out of the way, the plate-bag's slung at her hip, and her focus is something fiercely intent, fog-gray eyes blazing with determination. Susan's practicing hard and with a will on this fine day before the year turns in truth, oh aye.

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[the_seafarer]

He's made a point of keeping a close eye on her since their talk in the garden on that day of impossibly early snow, and he doesn't think it's his imagination that she seems a little quieter the closer they get to the close of the year.

An idea has been tickling at the back of his mind about that, but it isn't time for it yet. Not until she seems truly restless.

But he wasn't watching for her as he went walking through the edges of the forest, seeking out strong trees that might be suitable for lumber. It's pure happenstance that he chances on her out in the field well past the pastures.

Caspian stands back, watching with interest, loathe to interrupt until after she's finished.

[sai_delgado]

Susannah's taught her to mind her feet, for the way she's facing is the way the plates fly, she knows, and Susan's careful to mind her teacher's words as she backs up a bit, trying to extend her range. She goes still all over, focusing on the target--

--and then in the next instant she's moving, one hand gracefully falling into the bag slung at her hip and emerging with a plate, bringing it up across her body and into a full arc that finishes behind her head. In the same motion her arm snaps out, and the silver plate whirls across the open space toward the target, whistling as it flies, with Susan's cry echoing after it.

"RIZA!"

[the_seafarer]

The plate goes whirring through the air and slices deeply into the target, dead center. In the next moment, the silence of the field is broken by Caspian's whistle and applause.

"Well struck, lady," he calls. "A noble blow."

[sai_delgado]

She whirls around, her braid flying out behind her, and beams a bright smile at him.

"Caspian! I didn't see thee there," she laughs. "How long have thee been watching?"

[the_seafarer]

"Moments, only," he promises, smiling back at her. "But I don't wish to interrupt."

[sai_delgado]

"Thee aren't, not really," she reassures him. "But I should finish the rest of the set."

It's not good to leave a job half-finished, and that applies to her practice too, Susan feels.

"Would'ee mind waiting?"

[the_seafarer]

"Not in the least," he promises.

"Will you mind if I watch?"

[sai_delgado]

"Nay, I'd not mind." She hasn't gone out of her way to demonstrate her new skill before anyone, but she's used to Susannah watching and correcting her, and the day when Anthy'd come upon them and joined in is bright in her mind.

'Bert and Alain certainly know of her training, but it's not something they've talked about, really. It's Susannah's domain, and that's as it should be, for this.

"Do'ee ken the 'Rizas?" She holds up one of the titanium plates with its practice-sharp edge and the lopsided X marking the safe hold.

[the_seafarer]

He comes closer and studies the plate with interest, noting the sharpened edges and the blunted one where she sets her hand.

"Nay," he says, shaking his head. "I've never seen the like, Su."

[sai_delgado]

"From the Calla, they are," she tells him. "Susannah showed me. Calla Bryn Sturgis, it were, where the gunslingers learned of them. The women of the Calla use them, ye see. They're not a weapon for those with sword or gun or the like, not really - they're meant for those with naught else to hand but the need to protect, but they're effective all the same."

She says it matter-of-factly.

"And they're named after the Lady Oriza, she who brought down Gray Dick."

[the_seafarer]

"They certainly seem effective, aye," he agrees, glancing at the target. He smiles at her and steps back.

"Don't let me distract you, Su. By all means – " He gestures politely to the target and slips his hands into the pockets of the light trousers he's wearing, watching her with interest.

[sai_delgado]

She gives him a quick smile and turns her attention back to her practice. Over and over again her hand dips to the bag slung at her hip, each plate drawn with easy, fluid motion and flung with lithe grace.

Not all of them strike as true as the first, but enough do that she's content with her progress.

[the_seafarer]

He watches with interest as she throws the plates, noting the technique and effect. The plates themselves are quite interesting; the way they whistle as they fly through the air must be intentional, a forbidding sort of noise that no doubt strikes a chill into the heart of any unfortunate who might hear it and know its meaning.

Watching her, he's reminding of Susan Pevensie with her bow, driving arrow after arrow into the hearts of the targets before her, standing tall and straight-backed and graceful. The thought makes him smile.

"Oh, well done," he calls, as Susan flings an especially accurate plate. "Well done, you."

[sai_delgado]

She beams a smile at him. “I’m no gunslinger,” Susan observes, practically, “and never will be, but I do well enough with these, I wot.”

She concentrates, throws the last plate from the bag, then studies the results with pursed lips for a moment or two before she goes to collect the set.

[the_seafarer]

"I shall endeavor not to anger you," he teases.

"You're liable to take my head off with one of those."

[sai_delgado]

“That’s what they’re for.” It’s a little prim, but the hint of teasing is clear and well balances the flicker of old sorrow that’s there and gone almost before it can be seen.

(oh Dave I’m sorry)

“But I’d not want to, so I reckon thee are safe enough, say true.”

[the_seafarer]

"Still," he says, smiling. "Best to mind my manners and not test it."

He comes close and offers a gallant hand. "May I carry the bag for you?"

[sai_delgado]

She can just imagine what Susannah would say - or worse, Detta - and shakes her head at him, softening her refusal with a smile.

“Thee needn’t,” Susan tells him. “They’re well made for me; it’s why the bag sits so at my hip, do’ee see?”

She wipes each plate with a tuft of dry grass before she stores it; she’ll give them a thorough going-over later, as always.

[the_seafarer]

"I do see."

He clasps his hands behind his back and waits for her. "You're not cutting your practice short for me, I hope."

[sai_delgado]

"Mayhap by one set," she admits. "But I'd not decided yet if I'd do another or not, and now I have."

[the_seafarer]

"Well, I shall attempt to earn the time you've given me," he says, smiling.

[sai_delgado]

Susan wrinkles her nose at him, stashes the last plate, and gives the practice field a once-over. It'll do, she decides, either for her next round or if someone else wants these sorts of targets.

She comes to join him, smiling up at him as she reaches his side.

"Thee silly," she scolds, half teasing. "There's no need to earn anything."

[the_seafarer]

"Oh?" he asks, smiling, and reaches to take her free hand, then pulls her close so he can lean down and kiss her gently.

"How perfectly excellent to know."

[sai_delgado]

She goes willingly, stretching up against him and curving her other hand around the nape of his neck as she returns his kiss.

[the_seafarer]

He kisses her thoroughly, then smiles against her lips.

"Hello, my darling," he murmurs. "Aren't I glad I wandered this way and found you?"