War is a Learning Curve
Feb. 1st, 2020 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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nexus_crossings 3. . A small gesture yielding a small but noticeable result. And for knightgallant
For an angel of brotherhood and drunkenness anything was liable to be said or done at any time. It was to live as the bartender confidant and the overly drunk patron who didn't know when to stop talking or what might be inappropriate to speak. Beelzebub had navigated a path of being both simultaneously. Others felt open to speak their mind in his presence and he had no filter upon his lips. It had never lead to problems or changes. Among the angels it was an understood curse, just as they all had one, and so little time was spent visible to mortals that they paid no mind to a drunkard that appeared one night and was never seen again.
And he was still drunk, sitting in a bed far too small for him, reading about the battle tactics of some race. He and Galahad spent quite a time trying to say the race's name and those of their weapons until it hurt to laugh any more. They still hadn't found a consensus on any of the words despite best attempts and a language guide. Pronunciation wasn't necessary to know a word in writing, thankfully. A hearty laugh still erupted at certain words, a couple had verged on being quite another word in a known language. Not all of them were words a chaste knight would say, and the accidental similarity was enough to break attempts and have the angel in an uncontrolled fit of laughter more than once.
That had been earlier in the day and now his reading was accompanied by the scraping sound of swords being sharpened and the purr of a cat contentedly and precariously sleeping over his shoulder on the headboard. He was barely reading any longer, more watching the man across the room intent on the sword he was sharping. The book was almost done though and there was a compulsion to have it finished in one day. Something about one book in one day felt remarkably satisfying.
He looked up from the book, the sound of sharpening steel ceasing hadn't been noticed, and Galahad was standing at the bedside.
"Have you learned anything of..." the knight spent a solid minute trying to get the name of the species out. Beelzebub could admit he had no idea how to say it either, though he laughed at every attempt, more the confused expressions than sounds causing the amusement. ".... thier tactics?"
"Yes." The angel set the book aside.
"And it is useful?"
They had been training more often as he tried to get Galahad up to speed on angelic tactics. This conversation fit right into the tone of the entire week.
"I don't have three arms, but thier physicality is similar." Drunk as he was the mind easily went to things that were foolish. "One involves a grab to the third arm which tosses an opponent and dislocates the arm at the same time."
Galahad's pained expression from the wound description turned to shock when Beelzebub grabbed his belt, truthfully the same place as these third arms, and was intent on just knocking him off balance. Too much wine and he had forgotten his strength. There was a strangle cry of surprise when the angel accidentally pulled him off his feet. The knight hit the other side of the bed and bounced off onto the floor. Kako hissed in surprise as the bed frame shook and tossed her from her perch.
He wanted to laugh, did laugh, as he scrambled to peer over the side of the bed. The lack of blood and only mildly dazed look was a good sign. Galahad was already rolling over to right himself but the angel felt the sting of shame. He could have injured the human, badly.
"I'm all right, cudyll." Galahad sat up still looking dazed as he wove his fingers with the Angel's. "It's-- an effective tactic on the unsuspecting."
"I could've hurt you." His free hand pushed the disheveled curls back. "I forgot that you weigh nothing."
Beelzebub frowned at the wince when he touched Galahad's temple. Beneath the curls the blue of a bruise was already spreading. His voice welled up with concern "You're hurt"
A tentative hand reached up to touch the temple, a pained frown furrowed the human's features from the wound. The angel gently pulled Galahad's hand away from the swelling, ugly purple blotch before covering it with his hand own. The warmth from healing slid the knight's eyes closed, though the gentle touch was equally responsible.
It was a lesson learned though. Humans were fragile compared to his usual companions. It took a moment before Galahad came to sit on the bed while the angel leaned back to finish his reading. Though, he wouldn't say, the angel knew the slow reactions were a sign the human was tired and would soon fall asleep. He shifted, making room for Galahad who leaned in to read over his shoulder. The human wedged himself in between the Angel's wing and shoulder cuddling down between feathers and warm skin. The knight reading a short lived proposition which found the human asleep before a half dozen pages had passed. Beelzebub went on reading still intent on finishing the book, and now unable to do much else without disturbing his companion.
nexus_crossings 3. . A small gesture yielding a small but noticeable result. And for knightgallantFor an angel of brotherhood and drunkenness anything was liable to be said or done at any time. It was to live as the bartender confidant and the overly drunk patron who didn't know when to stop talking or what might be inappropriate to speak. Beelzebub had navigated a path of being both simultaneously. Others felt open to speak their mind in his presence and he had no filter upon his lips. It had never lead to problems or changes. Among the angels it was an understood curse, just as they all had one, and so little time was spent visible to mortals that they paid no mind to a drunkard that appeared one night and was never seen again.
And he was still drunk, sitting in a bed far too small for him, reading about the battle tactics of some race. He and Galahad spent quite a time trying to say the race's name and those of their weapons until it hurt to laugh any more. They still hadn't found a consensus on any of the words despite best attempts and a language guide. Pronunciation wasn't necessary to know a word in writing, thankfully. A hearty laugh still erupted at certain words, a couple had verged on being quite another word in a known language. Not all of them were words a chaste knight would say, and the accidental similarity was enough to break attempts and have the angel in an uncontrolled fit of laughter more than once.
That had been earlier in the day and now his reading was accompanied by the scraping sound of swords being sharpened and the purr of a cat contentedly and precariously sleeping over his shoulder on the headboard. He was barely reading any longer, more watching the man across the room intent on the sword he was sharping. The book was almost done though and there was a compulsion to have it finished in one day. Something about one book in one day felt remarkably satisfying.
He looked up from the book, the sound of sharpening steel ceasing hadn't been noticed, and Galahad was standing at the bedside.
"Have you learned anything of..." the knight spent a solid minute trying to get the name of the species out. Beelzebub could admit he had no idea how to say it either, though he laughed at every attempt, more the confused expressions than sounds causing the amusement. ".... thier tactics?"
"Yes." The angel set the book aside.
"And it is useful?"
They had been training more often as he tried to get Galahad up to speed on angelic tactics. This conversation fit right into the tone of the entire week.
"I don't have three arms, but thier physicality is similar." Drunk as he was the mind easily went to things that were foolish. "One involves a grab to the third arm which tosses an opponent and dislocates the arm at the same time."
Galahad's pained expression from the wound description turned to shock when Beelzebub grabbed his belt, truthfully the same place as these third arms, and was intent on just knocking him off balance. Too much wine and he had forgotten his strength. There was a strangle cry of surprise when the angel accidentally pulled him off his feet. The knight hit the other side of the bed and bounced off onto the floor. Kako hissed in surprise as the bed frame shook and tossed her from her perch.
He wanted to laugh, did laugh, as he scrambled to peer over the side of the bed. The lack of blood and only mildly dazed look was a good sign. Galahad was already rolling over to right himself but the angel felt the sting of shame. He could have injured the human, badly.
"I'm all right, cudyll." Galahad sat up still looking dazed as he wove his fingers with the Angel's. "It's-- an effective tactic on the unsuspecting."
"I could've hurt you." His free hand pushed the disheveled curls back. "I forgot that you weigh nothing."
Beelzebub frowned at the wince when he touched Galahad's temple. Beneath the curls the blue of a bruise was already spreading. His voice welled up with concern "You're hurt"
A tentative hand reached up to touch the temple, a pained frown furrowed the human's features from the wound. The angel gently pulled Galahad's hand away from the swelling, ugly purple blotch before covering it with his hand own. The warmth from healing slid the knight's eyes closed, though the gentle touch was equally responsible.
It was a lesson learned though. Humans were fragile compared to his usual companions. It took a moment before Galahad came to sit on the bed while the angel leaned back to finish his reading. Though, he wouldn't say, the angel knew the slow reactions were a sign the human was tired and would soon fall asleep. He shifted, making room for Galahad who leaned in to read over his shoulder. The human wedged himself in between the Angel's wing and shoulder cuddling down between feathers and warm skin. The knight reading a short lived proposition which found the human asleep before a half dozen pages had passed. Beelzebub went on reading still intent on finishing the book, and now unable to do much else without disturbing his companion.
