(Untitled)

[stubborn_squire]

[Not so very long ago, Alan of Trebond, Squire to Prince Jonathan of Tortall, took a dimensional wrong turn and wound up in the wilds of what used to be downtown Washington, DC. Luckily, two curious partners named Bones and Booth were there to help her through the transition and, um, around the rampaging dinosaurs

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[thedeaddontlie]

"Bones" as she doesn't ever think of herself (nick names are not standard practice in academic circles for a variety of anthropological reasons, after all) wakes up less than ten minutes after Alanna.

It is early and Booth is still asleep. Brennan considers her options when she notes the absence of their young companion. She eyes her partner but decides not to wake him. He's been having a difficult time ever since that incident with the school bus and the fire truck (which she maintains wasn't her fault), so she simply writes him a quick note.

Went to look around with Alan. Took a gun. See you when you catch up with us.

And with that she set off after the young man.

[stubborn_squire]

At least Bones is much better than 'Fire-Hair.' There's nothing remotely intimidating about Fire-Hair.

It's just insulting.

The thing is, Alanna would do just about anything to hear one of her friends call her that again. They're on her mind this morning, as they often are, and she finds herself scowling at the dust kicked up by her annoyed stride. Before long, she's worked up a fine temper and puts Faithful down beside the road, then draws her sword.

A few sword forms might take the edge off. And give Bones time to catch up.

[thedeaddontlie]

Brennan only watches for a few seconds before, inevitably, commenting.

"Practice forms are an excellent form of mental and physical exercise. Most existent martial arts have developed them independently which suggests that they are an extremely effective teaching technique."

[stubborn_squire]

Alanna pauses, holding Lightning steady above her head. Her stormy expression is still firmly in place, even with the smirk that curves her mouth when the very academic speech breaks through her concentration.

"Nothing is as effective as crossing blades with an opponent for the first time," she declares at last, bringing Lightning down in a vicious sweep.

Losing can be an effective learning tool, Faithful puts in, rubbing his head against Brennan's ankle.

"I don't lose," Alanna grumbles back.

[thedeaddontlie]

"That can not be true," Brennan objects. "No one can be victorious in every encounter. You must have lost any number of fights."

[stubborn_squire]

The smirk turns cocky, as images of the duel with Sir Dain flash through her mind. They're soon chased by memories of the cruel look in Alex's eyes as he broke her collarbone. Frowning now, Alanna sheathes Lightning.

"What does it matter. Truth or not, there isn't anyone here who could say any different."

She looks Brennan in the eye.

"Are they still sleeping?"

[thedeaddontlie]

"Precision is a valuable trait in any discussion," Temperance objects again.

"Yes. I estimate that Booth will sleep at least another seventy minutes. Cam... She has exhibited a tendency to rise early. She might be up withing forty-five minutes."

[stubborn_squire]

And in any sword fight. The thought calms Alanna. Sometimes the trick is to stop trying to interpret everything Brennan says and instead take her words and apply them to a different way of thinking.

It helps keep her mostly sane, at any rate.

"I'm hungry," she announces.

[thedeaddontlie]

"There are some granola bars left in camp." Even if they are dry and stale and supremely unappetizing.

Brennan is helpful like that.

[stubborn_squire]

A fierce grin.

"I was hoping for something that actually resembled food," she says, turning to point at the buildings ahead.

Really, at this point, she's not even sure that those granola bars would be suitable for the city rats.

[thedeaddontlie]

"A nutritious diet does involve some amount of variety," Brennan mused. She pulled the oversized pistol from her belt and checked it conspicuously. "We should be safe enough, I suppose. And I am in excellent shape in case we have to run away."

[stubborn_squire]

Alanna raises both eyebrows, stifling a snort. She spots the move with the pistol. While she considers Booth's opinion on the matter mostly archaic (on principle) and a bit impractical in their current environment, she takes a large step backwards and moves around to Brennan's other side.

"Good. Booth won't be happy if we come across another wildebeest situation."

Though why she's grinning as she says it is anyone's guess.

Starting to walk, slower this time so maybe Faithful won't have to use his claws, she glances at Brennan. "Have you ever used a sword?"

[thedeaddontlie]

"I've used swords in lab situations a number of times," Brennan says with a nod. "Every blade leaves very specifically patterned curf marks on bone. In order to ascertain a good match between a potential weapon and a victim it is necessary to use the blade on a control surface for comparison."

Oh... wait... Did Alanna mean for fighting?

[stubborn_squire]

Of course she did.

"No," Alanna replies slowly, "as it's meant to be used -- in a fight."

Although truth be told, she finds that bit about specific blade patterns interesting and adds offhandedly, "Magic can leave patterns like that, too."

[thedeaddontlie]

"I don't believe in magic," Brennan interjects quickly.

[stubborn_squire]

Alanna stops in her tracks and stares at Brennan like she's just proclaimed a disbelief in something as ordinary as bread, or chickens.

(She really hopes that place up the road has chickens.)

"Then how do you explain my Gift?"

And people call her mad!