~introduction

[trolololdamsel]

The one thing Maledisant's discovered about being married is that it doesn't make that much difference to anything. The people around her are still, for the most part, foolish and insufferable, only one of them is now her husband. The only real change are the lands that have been gifted to said husband, though they're not nearly as wide and

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[in_summer_leaf]

If Maledisant should happen to wander out into the back gardens, she will find Hisoka practicing with the katana. A large wooden deck is laid between rows of flowering shrubs and bushes, and his feet move deftly across it. He is in his jeans and a tank top, and his feet are bare. The sword gleams in the sunlight, whirling in spirals around the swiftly moving, slender, wiry figure.

[trolololdamsel]

She wanders out later, when she's had enough of exploring the house and wants to take a look at something else. (This doesn't take very long, since she only looked through a few rooms before deciding they were all much the same and of no particular interest to her). She isn't particularly impressed with the gardens, either, but at least they're less ugly.

Someone practising with a sword is a familiar sight, even if Hisoka is dressed differently than she's used to. Which means she's had lots of practice coming up with insults for this sort of situation.

"Do you guard this place?" she asks, coming up behind him without any greeting or attempt to get his attention. "I think we'll all be murdered by brigands in our sleep."

She's insulting your swordsmanship, Hisoka.

[in_summer_leaf]

Maledisant already has his attention, since he has eyes in the back of his head when he's in practice mode.

"And they'll undoubtedly start with you," he answers. Cheerfully.

[trolololdamsel]

Maledisant finds that amusing, actually. She smiles just a bit. "Aye, well, at least I won't have to put up with having such uncourteous guards any longer."

[in_summer_leaf]

Hisoka smiles a little, too. He finds people refreshing when they are rude as hell. "That's true. And I'd put flowers on your grave."

[trolololdamsel]

"And you think that would make up for getting me killed? You're as foolish as you are ugly."

[in_summer_leaf]

Seeing that Maledisant seems to want a battle of words, Hisoka sheaths his sword with a snick, folds his arms, and laughs at her. "Well, I would enjoy it, whether it compensated you or not."

[trolololdamsel]

Maledisant turns her nose up haughtily. "This is an insult to my honour. A true knight would weep by my graveside every morning, and be so wracked with guilt he would swear an oath to spend the rest of his life defending ladies from those that might harm them."

[in_summer_leaf]

"Well, how about this?" offers Hisoka. "Instead of weeping at your graveside, how about if I sing?" He clears his throat, and tunefully intones these verses, by A.E. Houseman:

"With rue my heart is laden,
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipped maiden,
And may a lightfoot lad."

"By brooks too broad for leaping
the lightfoot lads are laid
The rose-lipped girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade."

But he sings it just a shade too blithely and energetically, as one who is in fact dusting his hands in a Well, that's that! gesture, and is about to move on to trimming the hedges.

[trolololdamsel]

"You sound like a cat in heat," Maledisant informs him.

[in_summer_leaf]

"Oh, thank you," says Hisoka, with a smile. "So it meets with your approval, then? I'll sing it every day, EVERY SINGLE DAY, at your final resting place. Until the Last Trump summons you to your true home in heaven."

[trolololdamsel]

"Even Hell would be a relief, after hearing you sing."

[in_summer_leaf]

"That's good, since I think it more likely you'll end up down below than up above."

[trolololdamsel]

"At least the people there will make for more interesting company."

[in_summer_leaf]

"Oh, probably," agrees Hisoka. "But soldiers frequently end up in hell, so you'll probably have the benefit of MY company, as well. Won't that be grand?" He looks genuinely pleased at this prospect.

[trolololdamsel]

"Even the devil wouldn't want you, after hearing you sing," Maledisant says, haughtily. "Your soul will be doomed to wander the earth for all eternity."