( call him perceptive, but Graham has noticed that Achilles has never responded to text. he has learned not to leave any, and that means the notes he's left with all the rest of his gifts aren't quite going to cut it this time. instead, stops by Achilles door with a shield in tow, one he had help making in Perdition's rest. the blacksmith was quite capable, even if he was more used to advanced weaponry. the leather on the back is a bit more personal; Graham has quite a bit of experience in tanning and working leather.
Graham isn't alone, either; Brother is along for the visit, too, carrying a pair of heavy boots that are both steel-toed and steel-heeled. maybe the legends he remembers are right, maybe they're not. still, if Achilles ever does wear shoes, these ones might serve him well. Brother drops them on the floor, having grown tired of being helpful. that's all right, he's carried them more than far enough.
the huntsman knocks, not quite sure if he's caught the warrior at a good time. he also wonders to himself if he'll have to explain what Christmas is, to make better sense of the gifts he's brought at what might seem like random. well, he'll explain if he has to. it seemed a good tradition to learn. )
[Soon does the door open, and behind it stands Achilles. Having lost his native garb to the fire that consumed the saloon, he has had to expand his wardrobe: at present he is clad in a gaudy Christmas sweater, his broad chest striped with bands of snowflakes, reindeer, and holly garlands. So too, his legs are clad in jeans, his feet bare while in his chamber he stays. Upon seeing who it is that calls upon him, his features light up with delight.]
Bow-famed Graham, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? [At once, he moves aside and gestures for his friend to join him inside. He welcomes Brother too with a nod, knowing well how dear the wolf is to Graham.] Come in - sit and we shall share in a drink!
[He has noticed the gifts, of course, but he does not yet ask about them, for it is rude to leave a guest lingering in the doorway. Prepare yourself for a dose of good old-fashioned Greek hospitality, Graham.
Once ushered inside, what Graham will see first is the gleaming armor that stands close by the door. The craft of Hephaestus had been tarnished and torn in single combat against Koltira, and Achilles would have to find a way to repair the damage, yet even now its magnificence shines through. Beside it stands a second set of armor, bronze rather than gold but handsome even so, the armor of his father Peleus, which he had lent to great-hearted Patroclus on that fateful day when burned the ships.
Farther inside the room stands a small wooden table around which two chairs are arranged and upon which two cups perch. One seat he offers to Graham while from the floor he lifts a jug of the cactus wine so favored by the Quorral.]
( if he had a heart, he might have managed a laugh at the picture of Achilles, great warrior, in all the festive trappings of Christmas. even without one, he manages a slight shadow of mirth, a play at a smile that seems to wear off too quickly. his smiles always do. still, it seems as if he will not have to explain his gifts after all, if Achilles has already found his way into the much lauded ugly sweaters of Christmas.
he has no concept of greek hospitality, or really most kinds of hospitality, if he's honest. he and his brother both will brave the full brunt of it, though, stepping through the threshold into the admittedly small accomodations fitted them in Oska. he notes the double set of armor, and while he can admire their making he feels no envy. he's only worn full armor once, and he'd hated how it weighed him, pressing him too hard into the earth. he likes feeling free, even in his movement, and armor was never able to grant that. )
A drink, and some gifts, if you'll take them. I'd ask if you have much insight on the season, yet the jumper you wear tells a bit of a tale. ( Graham has one of his own, and while he hasn't worn it yet, he has kept it. indication he might, sooner or later. ) It's a tradition to give gifts at Christmas, so these are for you. ( he offers both as he sits, his brother having given up on carrying to relax underneath the table with an over-drawn sigh. yes, clearly walking across the hall had been a great struggle for him. don't mind him, Achilles — the wolf has all the dramatics his human lacks. )
[The ensemble is all the more glorious when he has got his sandals on. Perhaps another time Graham shall bear witness to this fashion disaster...
Once Graham is seated, Achilles pulls the cork from the jug and fills first his companion's cup, then his own. The cactus wine is a brilliant red and as it pours forth it carries upon it a sharp aroma which to him now smells of the desert. Ere he seats himself he turns to the small fireplace, inside which crackles a merry fire, and upon the hearth he pours out another draught of wine from the jug.]
May almighty Zeus who bears the aegis shine his favor down upon us, and may the full host of deathless gods upon sacred Olympus be honored by this my humble libation.
[So praying, he returns to the table and there joins Graham.]
Indeed, I have heard of the Christmas feast day that is celebrated in so many lands, although this is unknown to the Achaeans, as is the divine Santa who races his chariot across the night sky and bestows generous gifts upon those who have given supplication. Nonetheless, I am honored to receive such splendid gifts from you. What fine craftsmanship is evident in the face of this shield, and how sturdy are these boots!
Edited 2016-12-31 00:28 (UTC)
for real i read this as "pulled the cock from" and i was like wHOA WAIT A MINUTE???
( hey, bright side. achilles isn't wearing his sandals with socks. he hasn't hit middleaged dad levels of fashion faux pas.
Graham favors his whisky, despite only sounding Irish, yet he doesn't mind the cactus wine. he remembers it from Perdition's Rest quite well. he accepts his own drink with a nod, though he doesn't drink when Achilles rises. it's a curious tradition, that, throwing drink in tribute to the flame. it's a vigil to a god that is not his own, and yet he can respect it all the same.
he does sample his drink as Achilles returns, though. as far as hospitality goes, Greek is quite impressive. ) They didn't celebrate it in my own world, either. The one I lived in before I was a sheriff. ( a bit of an uncomfortable story to explain how that came to be, though, so he'll skip the full explanation. ) I can't be against sharing meals with those you are care for, or tokens of appreciation. I am glad you like them.
[The tradition of hospitality flourishes from the belief that any stranger who arrives at one's door could be a deathless god under guise of mortal man: thus he ought to be treated to food and drink and gifts, lest the wrath of a god be incurred.]
I too have gifts to bestow upon you, yet this shall wait until we have enjoyed our wine - I would not wish to hasten you out the door when you have only just sat down.
[For among the Achaeans, a guest receives his gifts upon the conclusion of his visit, as a means of sending him home with blessing. And so, Achilles lifts his cup to his lips and lets flow the sweet wine; he then admires again the gifts Graham has brought for him.]
I have found myself wanting for a shield, since Koltira did rend the face of that which the smith god forged for me upon my mother's entreaties. Once again, just as on that day when first we met, you have given me the means by which to defend myself.
( luckily for everyone in Audentes, Graham has yet to be revealed as a god of death. it'd make the touches he's barely getting used to pretty awkward too, if he killed someone every time he tried it. he'll take the flourished hospitality befitting a god all the same, though he's certainly unused to it. Graham would probably not have been offended if Achilles had just taken his gift and sent him on his way, really. he's a practical sort, small talk doesn't strike him as necessary. only needed when it is enjoyed.
Achilles probably enjoys small talk more than he does, however Graham doesn't mind it with a friend.
the Huntsman looked a little dampered at the mention of Koltira. he has not forgotten the battle cry posted to all, and while Achilles sits before him now it is no doubt there were some marks to the battle. he is no fan of Koltira, yet his concern was more on the man that faced him. )
I imagine that was a hard thing to lose. ( literally he has to imagine, he's so rarely ever given things that he doesn't quite understand sentimental attachment to them. though surely, if it was made on the behest of his mother, it stands to reason it had personal value. perhaps one day the huntsman might be able to actually understand that sort of emotional weight. ) This may not be so grand, yet I hope it will serve its purpose.
[His armor and shield, although robbed of their former splendor, are not wholly lost: there they stand in one corner of the chamber, as a reminder of the lashing his pride had suffered, a reminder that even that which is created by a deathless god is not impervious.]
Be not so modest, my friend - I shall bear this shield with pride swelling my heart. So too shall I proudly clad my feet in these boots, which although heavy shall not slow my swift feet. Are such boots meant for the battlefield? I must confess that I am accustomed only to wearing sandals when into the bloody jaws of war I must march.
[He cannot help the dubious look that is plain upon his features. Well versed as he is in the art of battle, he is reluctant to make even the smallest of changes to his approach.]
( they might be capable of repair, though if they are Graham wouldn't be the one to do it. he's capable of much with his hands, and perhaps not beyond learning. still, his fondness for such tools is limited, so likely enough his desire to learn to make them is slight. it's not often he uses anything but his bow, if he can help it. he may have gotten a sword from Loki, yet it will likely always unsettle him to use it.
as for the boots, that's a bit harder to explain, as gifts go. as someone who could be known as little more than a story, he understands the discomforts that can arise from being compared to one. even worse if Achilles had no idea of his own infamy. still, as a friend, if there's even a chance that it'll keep the man a little safer, it's worth giving him. especially if Achilles might choose to wear them on occasion. )
They're heavy to you, but even as a boy I chose to keep my feet covered. There is metal, in the toe and the heel. I'd rather not see any of you injured. It might take getting used to, but I think you could.
( the huntsman would rightly appreciate it if he would, at that. )
Are you so concerned for my feet, far-shooting Graham?
[This he asks with laughter shadowing his words, for he knows nothing of the legend for which he would become most notorious. Where Graham finds discomfort, however, Achilles has found only pride: he has oft been told that he is a hero of legend, but is this not the dream for which he so long strove? His is a culture that celebrates worthy men in story and song, that they may be remembered even as the generation of men pass like leaves from trees with the cycle of seasons. As a boy he had dreamed of joining the likes of Heracles and Jason among the greatest heroes of the Achaeans.]
( Graham does know a bit of legend and possibility that Achilles does not. perhaps it would be kinder to warn of that fate, that he might protect himself from it. Graham supposes knowing a cruel fate is not the same as avoiding it, though. if someone had warned him to not follow Emma into that station, would he have listened?
likely not. )
I've seen those feet in battle before, you know. They're notably bare. ( there's a wry note of teasing there, though perhaps it might be necessary to dig for it. is it so strange to by boots to a man that would happily go into battle without anything on his feet whatsoever? )
[He tips his cup back once more and the wine blazes its sweet trail down his throat. He then matches Graham's wryness in his own speech; his eyes slide to Brother's sleek-furred back and return to his companion across the table.]
And you who as a boy lived among wolves in the vasty wilds, did you never run barefoot when on the hunt with your fanged kin? Still it seems most natural to me to feel the earth beneath my feet as I beat my path across field, hill, and shore.
That I did, as a boy. Then I stepped in the trap of a hunter, and I learned quickly that the rules of nature and the rules of men are rarely the same.
( he'd been forced to wear boots after that one, his leg had suffered badly from the snare it'd been caught in. it could have been worse yet, a metal trap that could have snapped his bone in half. at least the snare had been a threat he'd learned early on as a boy, early enough that he'd spent more time in his life with his feet covered than he had without. the huntsman still hated lethal animal traps, though less for an injury he barely recalled. more for all the animals he'd seen lost to them, quite brutally at that. )
The world you are in now is not the same as the place you call home. It is not always easy, yet at times we find need to adapt. Might be that they're not so wretched when you're used to them.
( or maybe they will be, after all, Achilles had gone so long without there might be no adjusting to them completely. hopefully he'd give the boots a shot anyway, though. his friend hoped he might. )
[He reaches across the table to grasp Graham's forearm where it rests upon the table, giving a gentle squeeze.]
Come now, lose that lined countenance - I do not protest so vehemently. As I have before said, they are a fine gift, one for which I give you my sincerest gratitude.
[Partaking of his wine once more, Achilles then rises from his seat.]
Do not think that I am hastening you on your way now - I welcome you to stay for as long as you wish, my dear friend. There is wine enough to last. Yet your generosity I must pay in kind, as you shall soon see.
[So speaking, he brings forth the gift he had set aside for Graham: leather guards for the forearms and chest, into which are cut delicate designs in imitation of laurels.]
May these protect you in the bloody jaws of battle.
( asking Graham to lighten up is a bit like asking water to consider being a bit more dry. being serious is basically his only setting, excluding rare occasions. still, apparently this is one of them, as he shakes his head with a hint of something pulling at his features, something that could be known as a smile if a heartless man were even capable of such things. )
You protest only gently, then. ( gentle protests he can work with... especially if Achilles might give them a try. that's all he can really ask for, really.
Graham nods at the invitation to stay as long as he likes. he likely won't stay horribly long, though certainly long enough to finish his wine. wine wouldn't be his first choice, yet it would be shameful not to finish it. he is taking a sip when Achilles rises to get something, though he's honestly a bit surprised when Achilles comes back armed with a gift of his own. somehow, even though he'd come bearing one, the huntsman could not hoped to have expected something in return.
he sets down the wine to take the offered guards, turning them over in his hands. it's an odd thing, to be offered a gift, and he might never grow used to it. ) For me? Truly? ( he sounds a little dazed at the suggestion, though he does pause to undo the button at his wrist, so he can try one of the braces on. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ACTIONS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE
Graham isn't alone, either; Brother is along for the visit, too, carrying a pair of heavy boots that are both steel-toed and steel-heeled. maybe the legends he remembers are right, maybe they're not. still, if Achilles ever does wear shoes, these ones might serve him well. Brother drops them on the floor, having grown tired of being helpful. that's all right, he's carried them more than far enough.
the huntsman knocks, not quite sure if he's caught the warrior at a good time. he also wonders to himself if he'll have to explain what Christmas is, to make better sense of the gifts he's brought at what might seem like random. well, he'll explain if he has to. it seemed a good tradition to learn. )
COME AT ME BRO
Bow-famed Graham, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? [At once, he moves aside and gestures for his friend to join him inside. He welcomes Brother too with a nod, knowing well how dear the wolf is to Graham.] Come in - sit and we shall share in a drink!
[He has noticed the gifts, of course, but he does not yet ask about them, for it is rude to leave a guest lingering in the doorway. Prepare yourself for a dose of good old-fashioned Greek hospitality, Graham.
Once ushered inside, what Graham will see first is the gleaming armor that stands close by the door. The craft of Hephaestus had been tarnished and torn in single combat against Koltira, and Achilles would have to find a way to repair the damage, yet even now its magnificence shines through. Beside it stands a second set of armor, bronze rather than gold but handsome even so, the armor of his father Peleus, which he had lent to great-hearted Patroclus on that fateful day when burned the ships.
Farther inside the room stands a small wooden table around which two chairs are arranged and upon which two cups perch. One seat he offers to Graham while from the floor he lifts a jug of the cactus wine so favored by the Quorral.]
IT'S ALREADY BROUGHT
he has no concept of greek hospitality, or really most kinds of hospitality, if he's honest. he and his brother both will brave the full brunt of it, though, stepping through the threshold into the admittedly small accomodations fitted them in Oska. he notes the double set of armor, and while he can admire their making he feels no envy. he's only worn full armor once, and he'd hated how it weighed him, pressing him too hard into the earth. he likes feeling free, even in his movement, and armor was never able to grant that. )
A drink, and some gifts, if you'll take them. I'd ask if you have much insight on the season, yet the jumper you wear tells a bit of a tale. ( Graham has one of his own, and while he hasn't worn it yet, he has kept it. indication he might, sooner or later. ) It's a tradition to give gifts at Christmas, so these are for you. ( he offers both as he sits, his brother having given up on carrying to relax underneath the table with an over-drawn sigh. yes, clearly walking across the hall had been a great struggle for him. don't mind him, Achilles — the wolf has all the dramatics his human lacks. )
no subject
Once Graham is seated, Achilles pulls the cork from the jug and fills first his companion's cup, then his own. The cactus wine is a brilliant red and as it pours forth it carries upon it a sharp aroma which to him now smells of the desert. Ere he seats himself he turns to the small fireplace, inside which crackles a merry fire, and upon the hearth he pours out another draught of wine from the jug.]
May almighty Zeus who bears the aegis shine his favor down upon us, and may the full host of deathless gods upon sacred Olympus be honored by this my humble libation.
[So praying, he returns to the table and there joins Graham.]
Indeed, I have heard of the Christmas feast day that is celebrated in so many lands, although this is unknown to the Achaeans, as is the divine Santa who races his chariot across the night sky and bestows generous gifts upon those who have given supplication. Nonetheless, I am honored to receive such splendid gifts from you. What fine craftsmanship is evident in the face of this shield, and how sturdy are these boots!
for real i read this as "pulled the cock from" and i was like wHOA WAIT A MINUTE???
Graham favors his whisky, despite only sounding Irish, yet he doesn't mind the cactus wine. he remembers it from Perdition's Rest quite well. he accepts his own drink with a nod, though he doesn't drink when Achilles rises. it's a curious tradition, that, throwing drink in tribute to the flame. it's a vigil to a god that is not his own, and yet he can respect it all the same.
he does sample his drink as Achilles returns, though. as far as hospitality goes, Greek is quite impressive. ) They didn't celebrate it in my own world, either. The one I lived in before I was a sheriff. ( a bit of an uncomfortable story to explain how that came to be, though, so he'll skip the full explanation. ) I can't be against sharing meals with those you are care for, or tokens of appreciation. I am glad you like them.
omg i'm sorry for the wait
I too have gifts to bestow upon you, yet this shall wait until we have enjoyed our wine - I would not wish to hasten you out the door when you have only just sat down.
[For among the Achaeans, a guest receives his gifts upon the conclusion of his visit, as a means of sending him home with blessing. And so, Achilles lifts his cup to his lips and lets flow the sweet wine; he then admires again the gifts Graham has brought for him.]
I have found myself wanting for a shield, since Koltira did rend the face of that which the smith god forged for me upon my mother's entreaties. Once again, just as on that day when first we met, you have given me the means by which to defend myself.
no subject
Achilles probably enjoys small talk more than he does, however Graham doesn't mind it with a friend.
the Huntsman looked a little dampered at the mention of Koltira. he has not forgotten the battle cry posted to all, and while Achilles sits before him now it is no doubt there were some marks to the battle. he is no fan of Koltira, yet his concern was more on the man that faced him. )
I imagine that was a hard thing to lose. ( literally he has to imagine, he's so rarely ever given things that he doesn't quite understand sentimental attachment to them. though surely, if it was made on the behest of his mother, it stands to reason it had personal value. perhaps one day the huntsman might be able to actually understand that sort of emotional weight. ) This may not be so grand, yet I hope it will serve its purpose.
no subject
Be not so modest, my friend - I shall bear this shield with pride swelling my heart. So too shall I proudly clad my feet in these boots, which although heavy shall not slow my swift feet. Are such boots meant for the battlefield? I must confess that I am accustomed only to wearing sandals when into the bloody jaws of war I must march.
[He cannot help the dubious look that is plain upon his features. Well versed as he is in the art of battle, he is reluctant to make even the smallest of changes to his approach.]
no subject
as for the boots, that's a bit harder to explain, as gifts go. as someone who could be known as little more than a story, he understands the discomforts that can arise from being compared to one. even worse if Achilles had no idea of his own infamy. still, as a friend, if there's even a chance that it'll keep the man a little safer, it's worth giving him. especially if Achilles might choose to wear them on occasion. )
They're heavy to you, but even as a boy I chose to keep my feet covered. There is metal, in the toe and the heel. I'd rather not see any of you injured. It might take getting used to, but I think you could.
( the huntsman would rightly appreciate it if he would, at that. )
no subject
Are you so concerned for my feet, far-shooting Graham?
[This he asks with laughter shadowing his words, for he knows nothing of the legend for which he would become most notorious. Where Graham finds discomfort, however, Achilles has found only pride: he has oft been told that he is a hero of legend, but is this not the dream for which he so long strove? His is a culture that celebrates worthy men in story and song, that they may be remembered even as the generation of men pass like leaves from trees with the cycle of seasons. As a boy he had dreamed of joining the likes of Heracles and Jason among the greatest heroes of the Achaeans.]
no subject
( Graham does know a bit of legend and possibility that Achilles does not. perhaps it would be kinder to warn of that fate, that he might protect himself from it. Graham supposes knowing a cruel fate is not the same as avoiding it, though. if someone had warned him to not follow Emma into that station, would he have listened?
likely not. )
I've seen those feet in battle before, you know. They're notably bare. ( there's a wry note of teasing there, though perhaps it might be necessary to dig for it. is it so strange to by boots to a man that would happily go into battle without anything on his feet whatsoever? )
no subject
And you who as a boy lived among wolves in the vasty wilds, did you never run barefoot when on the hunt with your fanged kin? Still it seems most natural to me to feel the earth beneath my feet as I beat my path across field, hill, and shore.
[So he had been as a boy, and so he remains now.]
no subject
( he'd been forced to wear boots after that one, his leg had suffered badly from the snare it'd been caught in. it could have been worse yet, a metal trap that could have snapped his bone in half. at least the snare had been a threat he'd learned early on as a boy, early enough that he'd spent more time in his life with his feet covered than he had without. the huntsman still hated lethal animal traps, though less for an injury he barely recalled. more for all the animals he'd seen lost to them, quite brutally at that. )
The world you are in now is not the same as the place you call home. It is not always easy, yet at times we find need to adapt. Might be that they're not so wretched when you're used to them.
( or maybe they will be, after all, Achilles had gone so long without there might be no adjusting to them completely. hopefully he'd give the boots a shot anyway, though. his friend hoped he might. )
no subject
Come now, lose that lined countenance - I do not protest so vehemently. As I have before said, they are a fine gift, one for which I give you my sincerest gratitude.
[Partaking of his wine once more, Achilles then rises from his seat.]
Do not think that I am hastening you on your way now - I welcome you to stay for as long as you wish, my dear friend. There is wine enough to last. Yet your generosity I must pay in kind, as you shall soon see.
[So speaking, he brings forth the gift he had set aside for Graham: leather guards for the forearms and chest, into which are cut delicate designs in imitation of laurels.]
May these protect you in the bloody jaws of battle.
no subject
You protest only gently, then. ( gentle protests he can work with... especially if Achilles might give them a try. that's all he can really ask for, really.
Graham nods at the invitation to stay as long as he likes. he likely won't stay horribly long, though certainly long enough to finish his wine. wine wouldn't be his first choice, yet it would be shameful not to finish it. he is taking a sip when Achilles rises to get something, though he's honestly a bit surprised when Achilles comes back armed with a gift of his own. somehow, even though he'd come bearing one, the huntsman could not hoped to have expected something in return.
he sets down the wine to take the offered guards, turning them over in his hands. it's an odd thing, to be offered a gift, and he might never grow used to it. ) For me? Truly? ( he sounds a little dazed at the suggestion, though he does pause to undo the button at his wrist, so he can try one of the braces on. )