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Finally, his injuries were starting to disintegrate.
Having been crushed beneath what felt like half a mountain only eight weeks ago, Vangelis had had completely inappropriate expectations of his recovery time. A man used to being back on his feet within a day or two of injury and never being abed with any form of cold or illness otherwise, Vangelis was not used to having to wait so long before his body felt like his own once more.
Not able to walk until nearly two weeks after the injury in question, not able to fight for another several weeks... not he was able to work out but it wasn't until the last week or so where he had truly felt as if his shoulder was working properly once more.
As he stood in the lands of the Dimitrou manor and swung his sword in a practiced arch of strength, speed and power, Vangelis was pleased to note that each turn of his shoulder joint was becoming easier; working out the stiffness and frustrating lack of motion in the muscle and joint that settled in every time he slept.
Instead, he was starting to get full motion once more and he quickly slipped the sword from one hand to the other, working it in a routine of slashes and stabs that were his usual workout routine from before the incident in question.
Able now to perform the workouts he had before his injuries, Vangelis had removed his shirt and worked in loose pants within a small and quiet area of the Dimitrou gardens. The fact that the workout was still a little harder than it had been before he had been buried in the mines of his capitol city, meant that his skin gleamed with sweat. His hair had curled and stuck to his neck and skull round his ears and he had to pause occasionally in his exercises to rub the palms of his hands against the pants to ensure his hands were not too slippery for the weapon's grip.
The last thing he wanted to do was lose hold on the thing and send it flying.
It was for that reason, plus the safety of any flower beds and decorative flora, that Vangelis had chosen an area around the back of the buildings, where it was mostly grass rather than buds that he might decapitate or people he might accidentally impale...
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Finally, his injuries were starting to disintegrate.
Having been crushed beneath what felt like half a mountain only eight weeks ago, Vangelis had had completely inappropriate expectations of his recovery time. A man used to being back on his feet within a day or two of injury and never being abed with any form of cold or illness otherwise, Vangelis was not used to having to wait so long before his body felt like his own once more.
Not able to walk until nearly two weeks after the injury in question, not able to fight for another several weeks... not he was able to work out but it wasn't until the last week or so where he had truly felt as if his shoulder was working properly once more.
As he stood in the lands of the Dimitrou manor and swung his sword in a practiced arch of strength, speed and power, Vangelis was pleased to note that each turn of his shoulder joint was becoming easier; working out the stiffness and frustrating lack of motion in the muscle and joint that settled in every time he slept.
Instead, he was starting to get full motion once more and he quickly slipped the sword from one hand to the other, working it in a routine of slashes and stabs that were his usual workout routine from before the incident in question.
Able now to perform the workouts he had before his injuries, Vangelis had removed his shirt and worked in loose pants within a small and quiet area of the Dimitrou gardens. The fact that the workout was still a little harder than it had been before he had been buried in the mines of his capitol city, meant that his skin gleamed with sweat. His hair had curled and stuck to his neck and skull round his ears and he had to pause occasionally in his exercises to rub the palms of his hands against the pants to ensure his hands were not too slippery for the weapon's grip.
The last thing he wanted to do was lose hold on the thing and send it flying.
It was for that reason, plus the safety of any flower beds and decorative flora, that Vangelis had chosen an area around the back of the buildings, where it was mostly grass rather than buds that he might decapitate or people he might accidentally impale...
Finally, his injuries were starting to disintegrate.
Having been crushed beneath what felt like half a mountain only eight weeks ago, Vangelis had had completely inappropriate expectations of his recovery time. A man used to being back on his feet within a day or two of injury and never being abed with any form of cold or illness otherwise, Vangelis was not used to having to wait so long before his body felt like his own once more.
Not able to walk until nearly two weeks after the injury in question, not able to fight for another several weeks... not he was able to work out but it wasn't until the last week or so where he had truly felt as if his shoulder was working properly once more.
As he stood in the lands of the Dimitrou manor and swung his sword in a practiced arch of strength, speed and power, Vangelis was pleased to note that each turn of his shoulder joint was becoming easier; working out the stiffness and frustrating lack of motion in the muscle and joint that settled in every time he slept.
Instead, he was starting to get full motion once more and he quickly slipped the sword from one hand to the other, working it in a routine of slashes and stabs that were his usual workout routine from before the incident in question.
Able now to perform the workouts he had before his injuries, Vangelis had removed his shirt and worked in loose pants within a small and quiet area of the Dimitrou gardens. The fact that the workout was still a little harder than it had been before he had been buried in the mines of his capitol city, meant that his skin gleamed with sweat. His hair had curled and stuck to his neck and skull round his ears and he had to pause occasionally in his exercises to rub the palms of his hands against the pants to ensure his hands were not too slippery for the weapon's grip.
The last thing he wanted to do was lose hold on the thing and send it flying.
It was for that reason, plus the safety of any flower beds and decorative flora, that Vangelis had chosen an area around the back of the buildings, where it was mostly grass rather than buds that he might decapitate or people he might accidentally impale...
In one of the first times since the arrival of their visitors, Dorothea was off to her practice courts for some much needed alone time. Every spare moment and she was entertaining one guest or another. It was dreadfully tiresome as she couldn’t rest in the way she was used to. There was no time to go for long rides or extended walks. Even now, though she was alone, she didn’t dare go far in case she was needed. Anyone looking for her would know where to look first. They certainly would find her in the archery courts.
Today, Dorothea wore her practice gear. A close fitting green chiton, meant for ease of movement without loose fabric to ensnare upon anything. Her bow was strapped loosely to her back, arm guards already fitted. As was her custom when practicing her hair was braided tightly, no strands yet escaping. There would be no chance of her catching any of her equipment on herself. Dorothea was well enough practiced to know better.
She didn’t make it far out of their home when she heard voices. Dorothea didn’t waste time trying to identify them, quickly taking a turn that led her off the path and behind some buildings that hosted a rather neglected part of the gardens. Her deviation from the path meant a longer walk, but it also led her away from another conversation that would in all likelihood delay any chance she would have of exercise that day.
Relieved to have escaped for the moment, the woman continued alongside the building, turning a corner that would take her back in the direction of her practice courts. At the last moment, Dorothea detected an unnatural noise, but her feet had already carried her around the corner. With only seconds to take in the scene, Dorothea detected the edge of a blade coming her way. Without hesitation, years of training kicked in and she rolled away from the sword, simultaneously pulling her bow from her back and notching an arrow. The rational part of her brain kicked in at the last moment, telling her to wait before firing and it was that hesitation that prevented her from firing straight into Vangelis’ arm.
For a moment, the world paused, the two staring at each other, Dorothea regaining her breath. A few drops of anger and annoyance seeped in, as she finally began to calm down. Only a foolish man would choose to practice where nobody could see him and risk someone walking by! For a moment, she felt like she might strangle the man, whether or not they were related.
“We do have places where you can practice, you know,” Dorothea said tartly, lowing her bow and replacing her arrow in its quiver. “Where you’re not likely to take someone’s ear off by surprise.” She knew she ought to be more polite, but the foolishness of the situation had her fuming.
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In one of the first times since the arrival of their visitors, Dorothea was off to her practice courts for some much needed alone time. Every spare moment and she was entertaining one guest or another. It was dreadfully tiresome as she couldn’t rest in the way she was used to. There was no time to go for long rides or extended walks. Even now, though she was alone, she didn’t dare go far in case she was needed. Anyone looking for her would know where to look first. They certainly would find her in the archery courts.
Today, Dorothea wore her practice gear. A close fitting green chiton, meant for ease of movement without loose fabric to ensnare upon anything. Her bow was strapped loosely to her back, arm guards already fitted. As was her custom when practicing her hair was braided tightly, no strands yet escaping. There would be no chance of her catching any of her equipment on herself. Dorothea was well enough practiced to know better.
She didn’t make it far out of their home when she heard voices. Dorothea didn’t waste time trying to identify them, quickly taking a turn that led her off the path and behind some buildings that hosted a rather neglected part of the gardens. Her deviation from the path meant a longer walk, but it also led her away from another conversation that would in all likelihood delay any chance she would have of exercise that day.
Relieved to have escaped for the moment, the woman continued alongside the building, turning a corner that would take her back in the direction of her practice courts. At the last moment, Dorothea detected an unnatural noise, but her feet had already carried her around the corner. With only seconds to take in the scene, Dorothea detected the edge of a blade coming her way. Without hesitation, years of training kicked in and she rolled away from the sword, simultaneously pulling her bow from her back and notching an arrow. The rational part of her brain kicked in at the last moment, telling her to wait before firing and it was that hesitation that prevented her from firing straight into Vangelis’ arm.
For a moment, the world paused, the two staring at each other, Dorothea regaining her breath. A few drops of anger and annoyance seeped in, as she finally began to calm down. Only a foolish man would choose to practice where nobody could see him and risk someone walking by! For a moment, she felt like she might strangle the man, whether or not they were related.
“We do have places where you can practice, you know,” Dorothea said tartly, lowing her bow and replacing her arrow in its quiver. “Where you’re not likely to take someone’s ear off by surprise.” She knew she ought to be more polite, but the foolishness of the situation had her fuming.
In one of the first times since the arrival of their visitors, Dorothea was off to her practice courts for some much needed alone time. Every spare moment and she was entertaining one guest or another. It was dreadfully tiresome as she couldn’t rest in the way she was used to. There was no time to go for long rides or extended walks. Even now, though she was alone, she didn’t dare go far in case she was needed. Anyone looking for her would know where to look first. They certainly would find her in the archery courts.
Today, Dorothea wore her practice gear. A close fitting green chiton, meant for ease of movement without loose fabric to ensnare upon anything. Her bow was strapped loosely to her back, arm guards already fitted. As was her custom when practicing her hair was braided tightly, no strands yet escaping. There would be no chance of her catching any of her equipment on herself. Dorothea was well enough practiced to know better.
She didn’t make it far out of their home when she heard voices. Dorothea didn’t waste time trying to identify them, quickly taking a turn that led her off the path and behind some buildings that hosted a rather neglected part of the gardens. Her deviation from the path meant a longer walk, but it also led her away from another conversation that would in all likelihood delay any chance she would have of exercise that day.
Relieved to have escaped for the moment, the woman continued alongside the building, turning a corner that would take her back in the direction of her practice courts. At the last moment, Dorothea detected an unnatural noise, but her feet had already carried her around the corner. With only seconds to take in the scene, Dorothea detected the edge of a blade coming her way. Without hesitation, years of training kicked in and she rolled away from the sword, simultaneously pulling her bow from her back and notching an arrow. The rational part of her brain kicked in at the last moment, telling her to wait before firing and it was that hesitation that prevented her from firing straight into Vangelis’ arm.
For a moment, the world paused, the two staring at each other, Dorothea regaining her breath. A few drops of anger and annoyance seeped in, as she finally began to calm down. Only a foolish man would choose to practice where nobody could see him and risk someone walking by! For a moment, she felt like she might strangle the man, whether or not they were related.
“We do have places where you can practice, you know,” Dorothea said tartly, lowing her bow and replacing her arrow in its quiver. “Where you’re not likely to take someone’s ear off by surprise.” She knew she ought to be more polite, but the foolishness of the situation had her fuming.
As Vangelis worked, his mind fell into a quiet sense of peace, where it turned inwards. Not to concrete thoughts that could frame themselves into actual words inside his head, but on an inner sense of self. A moment of serene calm, in which he could redress any sense of balance he had been forced to lose in the required social graces that it had been necessary for him to endure and find his own centre once more.
It was a hard sensation to explain and Vangelis did not have the skill of words in which he would be able to formulate it had someone asked. Instead, he simply knew that centre of his being - the quiet and easy sense of peace - as an old friend that he visited over and again each morning during his workouts and weaponry practice.
Lost so much within the territory of that old friend and the calm, almost detached, floating sensation that he caused within his mind, Vangelis was slow to notice the arrival of his cousin, the Lady Dorothea. Whilst he was delayed enough in his reaction to begin the swinging of a sword stroke in her direction, he was also instinctive enough to halt the blade before it was anywhere near her. The peace he found in his work as a swordsman was hardly something to dull his senses and cause him to injure innocents around him. It went against every fibre he possessed to risk such a thing.
With a moment of stillness, before he withdrew the weapon from the air and offered a soft, half smile of apology to the young woman who wielded her bow with just as much expertise and - he suspected - deadly precision as he did his sword, Vangelis's shoulders became asymmetric as he gave a half shrug at her words. His demeanour was casual for one who could have mutilated the girl without his iron control but given that, in his perception of reality, there had never been any real risk, he was not concerned for the informal attitude causing offense.
"I could say the same of you, cousin." He simply replied, along with the shrug, his gaze dropping pointedly towards her bow and arrow. "I doubt the garden will offer you the range necessary to securely practice without threat of injuring others... or yourself." His eyes flashed in a brief and uncharacteristic moment of challenge, for he knew Dorothea's reputation with a bow. Even with a blessing from the Goddess herself, he wondered how far the strength of a woman could send an arrow...
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As Vangelis worked, his mind fell into a quiet sense of peace, where it turned inwards. Not to concrete thoughts that could frame themselves into actual words inside his head, but on an inner sense of self. A moment of serene calm, in which he could redress any sense of balance he had been forced to lose in the required social graces that it had been necessary for him to endure and find his own centre once more.
It was a hard sensation to explain and Vangelis did not have the skill of words in which he would be able to formulate it had someone asked. Instead, he simply knew that centre of his being - the quiet and easy sense of peace - as an old friend that he visited over and again each morning during his workouts and weaponry practice.
Lost so much within the territory of that old friend and the calm, almost detached, floating sensation that he caused within his mind, Vangelis was slow to notice the arrival of his cousin, the Lady Dorothea. Whilst he was delayed enough in his reaction to begin the swinging of a sword stroke in her direction, he was also instinctive enough to halt the blade before it was anywhere near her. The peace he found in his work as a swordsman was hardly something to dull his senses and cause him to injure innocents around him. It went against every fibre he possessed to risk such a thing.
With a moment of stillness, before he withdrew the weapon from the air and offered a soft, half smile of apology to the young woman who wielded her bow with just as much expertise and - he suspected - deadly precision as he did his sword, Vangelis's shoulders became asymmetric as he gave a half shrug at her words. His demeanour was casual for one who could have mutilated the girl without his iron control but given that, in his perception of reality, there had never been any real risk, he was not concerned for the informal attitude causing offense.
"I could say the same of you, cousin." He simply replied, along with the shrug, his gaze dropping pointedly towards her bow and arrow. "I doubt the garden will offer you the range necessary to securely practice without threat of injuring others... or yourself." His eyes flashed in a brief and uncharacteristic moment of challenge, for he knew Dorothea's reputation with a bow. Even with a blessing from the Goddess herself, he wondered how far the strength of a woman could send an arrow...
As Vangelis worked, his mind fell into a quiet sense of peace, where it turned inwards. Not to concrete thoughts that could frame themselves into actual words inside his head, but on an inner sense of self. A moment of serene calm, in which he could redress any sense of balance he had been forced to lose in the required social graces that it had been necessary for him to endure and find his own centre once more.
It was a hard sensation to explain and Vangelis did not have the skill of words in which he would be able to formulate it had someone asked. Instead, he simply knew that centre of his being - the quiet and easy sense of peace - as an old friend that he visited over and again each morning during his workouts and weaponry practice.
Lost so much within the territory of that old friend and the calm, almost detached, floating sensation that he caused within his mind, Vangelis was slow to notice the arrival of his cousin, the Lady Dorothea. Whilst he was delayed enough in his reaction to begin the swinging of a sword stroke in her direction, he was also instinctive enough to halt the blade before it was anywhere near her. The peace he found in his work as a swordsman was hardly something to dull his senses and cause him to injure innocents around him. It went against every fibre he possessed to risk such a thing.
With a moment of stillness, before he withdrew the weapon from the air and offered a soft, half smile of apology to the young woman who wielded her bow with just as much expertise and - he suspected - deadly precision as he did his sword, Vangelis's shoulders became asymmetric as he gave a half shrug at her words. His demeanour was casual for one who could have mutilated the girl without his iron control but given that, in his perception of reality, there had never been any real risk, he was not concerned for the informal attitude causing offense.
"I could say the same of you, cousin." He simply replied, along with the shrug, his gaze dropping pointedly towards her bow and arrow. "I doubt the garden will offer you the range necessary to securely practice without threat of injuring others... or yourself." His eyes flashed in a brief and uncharacteristic moment of challenge, for he knew Dorothea's reputation with a bow. Even with a blessing from the Goddess herself, he wondered how far the strength of a woman could send an arrow...
For as passionate as she could be, it was rare to see Dorothea lose her composure. However, when one was being careless with their weapons, it drove her to annoyance. This was one step further for his carelessness could have caused her or someone else injury. A more rational part of her mind reasoned that he had done his best to mitigate that by being out of the way in a secluded part of their estate, but her body was still pumped full of adrenaline to listen fully.
She did take a moment to appreciate the ease of which he halted his sword, preventing himself from cutting into her. Perhaps her dive away was unnecessary, yet her instincts were just as finely tuned as her cousin’s appeared to be. She hadn’t fought in battles as he had, but she knew the sounds of the forest and the unnaturalness that man brought to it.
“It was not my intention to practice here,” she retorted, unable to drop her attitude for the moment. “I am unaccustomed to others using this space rather than the intended practice courts.” She forced herself to breathe normally, knowing that she was being irrational. Still, the challenge in her cousin’s eyes heckled her, even as her rational side told her that perhaps he had good reason for practicing out of sight of others. She’d heard of his injury and wondered if it was pride that kept him away from general observation. To not be at the peak of one’s physical strength, especially when one was known for their fighting skills, must be difficult. Dorothea had been blessed to never have suffered from such an injury, but she knew that she was always a moment away from catastrophe. She never took her physical health for granted.
Slowly, her heart rate reduced, and she found herself less angry at Vangelis. As neither of them were harmed, it could be considered a lucky accident. “May I inquire as to why you aren’t practicing in our practice courts, cousin? Are they not satisfactory for you? Perhaps we could do something to improve them during your stay.”
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For as passionate as she could be, it was rare to see Dorothea lose her composure. However, when one was being careless with their weapons, it drove her to annoyance. This was one step further for his carelessness could have caused her or someone else injury. A more rational part of her mind reasoned that he had done his best to mitigate that by being out of the way in a secluded part of their estate, but her body was still pumped full of adrenaline to listen fully.
She did take a moment to appreciate the ease of which he halted his sword, preventing himself from cutting into her. Perhaps her dive away was unnecessary, yet her instincts were just as finely tuned as her cousin’s appeared to be. She hadn’t fought in battles as he had, but she knew the sounds of the forest and the unnaturalness that man brought to it.
“It was not my intention to practice here,” she retorted, unable to drop her attitude for the moment. “I am unaccustomed to others using this space rather than the intended practice courts.” She forced herself to breathe normally, knowing that she was being irrational. Still, the challenge in her cousin’s eyes heckled her, even as her rational side told her that perhaps he had good reason for practicing out of sight of others. She’d heard of his injury and wondered if it was pride that kept him away from general observation. To not be at the peak of one’s physical strength, especially when one was known for their fighting skills, must be difficult. Dorothea had been blessed to never have suffered from such an injury, but she knew that she was always a moment away from catastrophe. She never took her physical health for granted.
Slowly, her heart rate reduced, and she found herself less angry at Vangelis. As neither of them were harmed, it could be considered a lucky accident. “May I inquire as to why you aren’t practicing in our practice courts, cousin? Are they not satisfactory for you? Perhaps we could do something to improve them during your stay.”
For as passionate as she could be, it was rare to see Dorothea lose her composure. However, when one was being careless with their weapons, it drove her to annoyance. This was one step further for his carelessness could have caused her or someone else injury. A more rational part of her mind reasoned that he had done his best to mitigate that by being out of the way in a secluded part of their estate, but her body was still pumped full of adrenaline to listen fully.
She did take a moment to appreciate the ease of which he halted his sword, preventing himself from cutting into her. Perhaps her dive away was unnecessary, yet her instincts were just as finely tuned as her cousin’s appeared to be. She hadn’t fought in battles as he had, but she knew the sounds of the forest and the unnaturalness that man brought to it.
“It was not my intention to practice here,” she retorted, unable to drop her attitude for the moment. “I am unaccustomed to others using this space rather than the intended practice courts.” She forced herself to breathe normally, knowing that she was being irrational. Still, the challenge in her cousin’s eyes heckled her, even as her rational side told her that perhaps he had good reason for practicing out of sight of others. She’d heard of his injury and wondered if it was pride that kept him away from general observation. To not be at the peak of one’s physical strength, especially when one was known for their fighting skills, must be difficult. Dorothea had been blessed to never have suffered from such an injury, but she knew that she was always a moment away from catastrophe. She never took her physical health for granted.
Slowly, her heart rate reduced, and she found herself less angry at Vangelis. As neither of them were harmed, it could be considered a lucky accident. “May I inquire as to why you aren’t practicing in our practice courts, cousin? Are they not satisfactory for you? Perhaps we could do something to improve them during your stay.”
Vangelis watched the expressions and feelings pass upon his cousin's face. It was a curious mix of cultures that he could witness within Iason and Dorothea. Whilst a lack of age and maturity meant that Alexa did not yet portray any of the Colchian stoicism that had been carried through in his own branch of the family, it was clear in Dorothea and her brother. Yet the Taengean characteristic of saying exactly what you thought - even, perhaps, before it had been considered by one's mind - was also very apparent.
Curious how such genetics and cultural influence could form two branches of a family with so many conflicts and similarities between the two. And there would be his mother, Queen Yanni, hovering on the bridge between them, a mixture of both.
When the girl asked him why he wasn't using the practice courts that her family possessed, Vangelis' expression remained stony and inexpressive. His eyes were shrewd and his mouth tight, his fingers held onto the hilt of his weapon with a casual sureness that was like second nature to him. Finally, when she suggested he make improvements to the courts during his stay if he found them unsatisfactory, Vangelis broke his side of silence.
"I apologise if I startled you, cousin." Vangelis offered, sheathing his weapon and offering out a hand, palm up in a gesture of an olive branch that might sooth her vexation. "I can assure you I had complete control over the blade, if you were at all worried that I would injure someone." A man of his experience did not make such silly mistakes in those who came upon him, no matter how quietly.
"But, if you would prefer that I work at these so stated practice courts, perhaps you would be so kind as to show them to me." His eyes were shrewd as he revealed the very simple reason that he had had not been using them - the fact that he did not know they existed. Such a comment would likely flare a moment of awkwardness, but he cared little for that. He wasn't about to be admonished when he had had no clue of the courts even being in place. But he would accept her direction for getting there and perhaps a friendly contest between cousins once there...
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Vangelis watched the expressions and feelings pass upon his cousin's face. It was a curious mix of cultures that he could witness within Iason and Dorothea. Whilst a lack of age and maturity meant that Alexa did not yet portray any of the Colchian stoicism that had been carried through in his own branch of the family, it was clear in Dorothea and her brother. Yet the Taengean characteristic of saying exactly what you thought - even, perhaps, before it had been considered by one's mind - was also very apparent.
Curious how such genetics and cultural influence could form two branches of a family with so many conflicts and similarities between the two. And there would be his mother, Queen Yanni, hovering on the bridge between them, a mixture of both.
When the girl asked him why he wasn't using the practice courts that her family possessed, Vangelis' expression remained stony and inexpressive. His eyes were shrewd and his mouth tight, his fingers held onto the hilt of his weapon with a casual sureness that was like second nature to him. Finally, when she suggested he make improvements to the courts during his stay if he found them unsatisfactory, Vangelis broke his side of silence.
"I apologise if I startled you, cousin." Vangelis offered, sheathing his weapon and offering out a hand, palm up in a gesture of an olive branch that might sooth her vexation. "I can assure you I had complete control over the blade, if you were at all worried that I would injure someone." A man of his experience did not make such silly mistakes in those who came upon him, no matter how quietly.
"But, if you would prefer that I work at these so stated practice courts, perhaps you would be so kind as to show them to me." His eyes were shrewd as he revealed the very simple reason that he had had not been using them - the fact that he did not know they existed. Such a comment would likely flare a moment of awkwardness, but he cared little for that. He wasn't about to be admonished when he had had no clue of the courts even being in place. But he would accept her direction for getting there and perhaps a friendly contest between cousins once there...
Vangelis watched the expressions and feelings pass upon his cousin's face. It was a curious mix of cultures that he could witness within Iason and Dorothea. Whilst a lack of age and maturity meant that Alexa did not yet portray any of the Colchian stoicism that had been carried through in his own branch of the family, it was clear in Dorothea and her brother. Yet the Taengean characteristic of saying exactly what you thought - even, perhaps, before it had been considered by one's mind - was also very apparent.
Curious how such genetics and cultural influence could form two branches of a family with so many conflicts and similarities between the two. And there would be his mother, Queen Yanni, hovering on the bridge between them, a mixture of both.
When the girl asked him why he wasn't using the practice courts that her family possessed, Vangelis' expression remained stony and inexpressive. His eyes were shrewd and his mouth tight, his fingers held onto the hilt of his weapon with a casual sureness that was like second nature to him. Finally, when she suggested he make improvements to the courts during his stay if he found them unsatisfactory, Vangelis broke his side of silence.
"I apologise if I startled you, cousin." Vangelis offered, sheathing his weapon and offering out a hand, palm up in a gesture of an olive branch that might sooth her vexation. "I can assure you I had complete control over the blade, if you were at all worried that I would injure someone." A man of his experience did not make such silly mistakes in those who came upon him, no matter how quietly.
"But, if you would prefer that I work at these so stated practice courts, perhaps you would be so kind as to show them to me." His eyes were shrewd as he revealed the very simple reason that he had had not been using them - the fact that he did not know they existed. Such a comment would likely flare a moment of awkwardness, but he cared little for that. He wasn't about to be admonished when he had had no clue of the courts even being in place. But he would accept her direction for getting there and perhaps a friendly contest between cousins once there...
Dorothea attempted to get a read on her cousin – he had always been rather stoic, even in their youth. Although they had interacted when they were younger, Doro’s interest in boy was about the same as her interest in men now. When she failed to find much of a commonality between the two of them, she had rather quickly lost interest and left Vangelis to be in Iason’s company. Now, she wondered if she hadn’t been too quick to judge. Although their preferred weapon was not the same, it appeared that they both were experts in their realm.
She finally slowed in her short tirade, allowing her inner calm to wash back over her. It wasn’t often Dorothea managed to get so heated in front of others, but she supposed he had managed to rattle her nerves just a bit. Getting nearly sliced with a sword might do that to one. Despite Vangelis’s proclamation that he had complete control, she wasn’t inclined to believe him so quickly. However, she accepted his apology with a nod.
His next statement received a brow raise from her. Had nobody thought to show their guests to the practice courts? Part of her supposed that the task probably fell to her as Iason was very much a guest in their home as well at this moment. He had his own preoccupations. And it would never be her father’s job to show their guests around unless forced to do so. He had never been much of a host except when it came to presiding over the dinner table. That, he could do with ease. Showing their guests around the estate was a task that rather fell in Dorothea’s bucket of tasks. Unfortunately, with their home currently filled with more guests than it had seen in years, she had been too preoccupied with other tasks to remember who had been shown what and when. Perhaps she had also been doing a little bit of avoidance as well, she thought, unconsciously touching the strap of her bow.
“It appears that my apologies are in order,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I failed to realize that others may want to use them. I forget that not every estate has such an area to practice. Please, if you’ll let me show you to them?” The Dimitrou family was nothing if not honest in their ways. She would not fail to make notes of her errors and would be quite frank about it. She would also make an effort to ensure a correction of those errors as soon as possible.
As Vangelis agreed, Dorothea led him down the path she had been following originally, though it was not the most straightforward way to get there. It was a quiet few minutes as her cousin didn’t seem like one for much small talk. Doro wouldn’t push it. Finally, they approached the courts from behind. The main practice area was fenced in, filled with a heavy dirt and sand combination for easy movement. There were small courts with different surfaces or obstacles for more of a challenge in practice. Around the courts was a small inlay in the ground that marked a course for running, should one wish. On the far end of the field was the small grove in which her archery range resided.
“There is a more direct path from our home and I would be happy to show you the way back when you’re done,” Dorothea offered. “You’re welcome to take your pick of any of the courts. We have a small enclosure with some practice materials should you wish to use it. I hope there will be everything to suit your needs, but if not please let me know. I’m certain something can be found.”
Now that she was near to her archery range, her body itched to move towards it, but she didn’t want to rudely leave her cousin just yet. “Are you a fan of archery?” she asked suddenly, curious to see what other skills her cousin might display.
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Dorothea attempted to get a read on her cousin – he had always been rather stoic, even in their youth. Although they had interacted when they were younger, Doro’s interest in boy was about the same as her interest in men now. When she failed to find much of a commonality between the two of them, she had rather quickly lost interest and left Vangelis to be in Iason’s company. Now, she wondered if she hadn’t been too quick to judge. Although their preferred weapon was not the same, it appeared that they both were experts in their realm.
She finally slowed in her short tirade, allowing her inner calm to wash back over her. It wasn’t often Dorothea managed to get so heated in front of others, but she supposed he had managed to rattle her nerves just a bit. Getting nearly sliced with a sword might do that to one. Despite Vangelis’s proclamation that he had complete control, she wasn’t inclined to believe him so quickly. However, she accepted his apology with a nod.
His next statement received a brow raise from her. Had nobody thought to show their guests to the practice courts? Part of her supposed that the task probably fell to her as Iason was very much a guest in their home as well at this moment. He had his own preoccupations. And it would never be her father’s job to show their guests around unless forced to do so. He had never been much of a host except when it came to presiding over the dinner table. That, he could do with ease. Showing their guests around the estate was a task that rather fell in Dorothea’s bucket of tasks. Unfortunately, with their home currently filled with more guests than it had seen in years, she had been too preoccupied with other tasks to remember who had been shown what and when. Perhaps she had also been doing a little bit of avoidance as well, she thought, unconsciously touching the strap of her bow.
“It appears that my apologies are in order,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I failed to realize that others may want to use them. I forget that not every estate has such an area to practice. Please, if you’ll let me show you to them?” The Dimitrou family was nothing if not honest in their ways. She would not fail to make notes of her errors and would be quite frank about it. She would also make an effort to ensure a correction of those errors as soon as possible.
As Vangelis agreed, Dorothea led him down the path she had been following originally, though it was not the most straightforward way to get there. It was a quiet few minutes as her cousin didn’t seem like one for much small talk. Doro wouldn’t push it. Finally, they approached the courts from behind. The main practice area was fenced in, filled with a heavy dirt and sand combination for easy movement. There were small courts with different surfaces or obstacles for more of a challenge in practice. Around the courts was a small inlay in the ground that marked a course for running, should one wish. On the far end of the field was the small grove in which her archery range resided.
“There is a more direct path from our home and I would be happy to show you the way back when you’re done,” Dorothea offered. “You’re welcome to take your pick of any of the courts. We have a small enclosure with some practice materials should you wish to use it. I hope there will be everything to suit your needs, but if not please let me know. I’m certain something can be found.”
Now that she was near to her archery range, her body itched to move towards it, but she didn’t want to rudely leave her cousin just yet. “Are you a fan of archery?” she asked suddenly, curious to see what other skills her cousin might display.
Dorothea attempted to get a read on her cousin – he had always been rather stoic, even in their youth. Although they had interacted when they were younger, Doro’s interest in boy was about the same as her interest in men now. When she failed to find much of a commonality between the two of them, she had rather quickly lost interest and left Vangelis to be in Iason’s company. Now, she wondered if she hadn’t been too quick to judge. Although their preferred weapon was not the same, it appeared that they both were experts in their realm.
She finally slowed in her short tirade, allowing her inner calm to wash back over her. It wasn’t often Dorothea managed to get so heated in front of others, but she supposed he had managed to rattle her nerves just a bit. Getting nearly sliced with a sword might do that to one. Despite Vangelis’s proclamation that he had complete control, she wasn’t inclined to believe him so quickly. However, she accepted his apology with a nod.
His next statement received a brow raise from her. Had nobody thought to show their guests to the practice courts? Part of her supposed that the task probably fell to her as Iason was very much a guest in their home as well at this moment. He had his own preoccupations. And it would never be her father’s job to show their guests around unless forced to do so. He had never been much of a host except when it came to presiding over the dinner table. That, he could do with ease. Showing their guests around the estate was a task that rather fell in Dorothea’s bucket of tasks. Unfortunately, with their home currently filled with more guests than it had seen in years, she had been too preoccupied with other tasks to remember who had been shown what and when. Perhaps she had also been doing a little bit of avoidance as well, she thought, unconsciously touching the strap of her bow.
“It appears that my apologies are in order,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I failed to realize that others may want to use them. I forget that not every estate has such an area to practice. Please, if you’ll let me show you to them?” The Dimitrou family was nothing if not honest in their ways. She would not fail to make notes of her errors and would be quite frank about it. She would also make an effort to ensure a correction of those errors as soon as possible.
As Vangelis agreed, Dorothea led him down the path she had been following originally, though it was not the most straightforward way to get there. It was a quiet few minutes as her cousin didn’t seem like one for much small talk. Doro wouldn’t push it. Finally, they approached the courts from behind. The main practice area was fenced in, filled with a heavy dirt and sand combination for easy movement. There were small courts with different surfaces or obstacles for more of a challenge in practice. Around the courts was a small inlay in the ground that marked a course for running, should one wish. On the far end of the field was the small grove in which her archery range resided.
“There is a more direct path from our home and I would be happy to show you the way back when you’re done,” Dorothea offered. “You’re welcome to take your pick of any of the courts. We have a small enclosure with some practice materials should you wish to use it. I hope there will be everything to suit your needs, but if not please let me know. I’m certain something can be found.”
Now that she was near to her archery range, her body itched to move towards it, but she didn’t want to rudely leave her cousin just yet. “Are you a fan of archery?” she asked suddenly, curious to see what other skills her cousin might display.
Vangelis' expression barely changed during his interactions with his cousin. As she realised the error that had led him to practice his military craft in a space that was perhaps inappropriate, her anger at his disruption to her day seemed to evaporate and she kept her maturity and dignity by admitted fault, apologising and suggesting a solution to the problem at hand.
Whilst an apology and admittance of fault was not something Vangelis had either expected nor needed from his pretty cousin, he was admiring of her attitude in offering it. The Dimitrou and Kotas were perhaps more alike than he had supposed over the years and saw the benefit of truth and learning over that of reputation and saving face. That at least, regardless of the circumstances that had brought it to the surface, he could respect and like in the young woman.
When she offered to show him the way to practice courts for just such honing of crafts, Vangelis was in agreement with her that not all manors separated out an area of land for such activities. Not even Kotas held a specially designed area to encourage the training that all of the men within the bloodline were expected to master.
Perhaps it was the fact that militia was so ingrained into the genetics of the Kotas line that there was no need to create a specifically delegated area for such things. The entirety of the Kotas land became a potential mock battlefield for honing such expertise.
Waving aside her apologies as if they were not required - which he didn't believe that they were - Vangelis instead turned to follow the young woman with the thick dark hair down a side path that she seemed to know better than her own name. Her feet found the easiest steps and avoided any potential trip hazard without her needing to look down. And very quickly they arrived at an open grassy space that stood devoid of any trees or bushel and had been trimmed and kept clear for work outs and physical exertion.
Vangelis glanced around, accepting that he was impressed and holding a passing fancy that it was a shame Colchis did not own such easily accessible open space. Perhaps such a thing would be of use to the training of military units.
It took only a moment for Dorothea to naturally gravitate towards that which she was most skilled at - as if she were drawn there by a force beyond her own powers. While made sense given that it was rumoured the girl was blessed by Artemis in her skills with her bow.
"In a way." Vangelis answered in reply to her query. "I admire that it is a skill that can be praised without the need for bloodshed."
Archery was just as much as sport as it was a skill to be used in battle. Yet, if one wanted to show that he was a skilled bladesmith or other such weapons, he had to be fighting another person - able to draw blood in their mastery over the other. Archery one could prove their skills without it being violent upon another.
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Vangelis' expression barely changed during his interactions with his cousin. As she realised the error that had led him to practice his military craft in a space that was perhaps inappropriate, her anger at his disruption to her day seemed to evaporate and she kept her maturity and dignity by admitted fault, apologising and suggesting a solution to the problem at hand.
Whilst an apology and admittance of fault was not something Vangelis had either expected nor needed from his pretty cousin, he was admiring of her attitude in offering it. The Dimitrou and Kotas were perhaps more alike than he had supposed over the years and saw the benefit of truth and learning over that of reputation and saving face. That at least, regardless of the circumstances that had brought it to the surface, he could respect and like in the young woman.
When she offered to show him the way to practice courts for just such honing of crafts, Vangelis was in agreement with her that not all manors separated out an area of land for such activities. Not even Kotas held a specially designed area to encourage the training that all of the men within the bloodline were expected to master.
Perhaps it was the fact that militia was so ingrained into the genetics of the Kotas line that there was no need to create a specifically delegated area for such things. The entirety of the Kotas land became a potential mock battlefield for honing such expertise.
Waving aside her apologies as if they were not required - which he didn't believe that they were - Vangelis instead turned to follow the young woman with the thick dark hair down a side path that she seemed to know better than her own name. Her feet found the easiest steps and avoided any potential trip hazard without her needing to look down. And very quickly they arrived at an open grassy space that stood devoid of any trees or bushel and had been trimmed and kept clear for work outs and physical exertion.
Vangelis glanced around, accepting that he was impressed and holding a passing fancy that it was a shame Colchis did not own such easily accessible open space. Perhaps such a thing would be of use to the training of military units.
It took only a moment for Dorothea to naturally gravitate towards that which she was most skilled at - as if she were drawn there by a force beyond her own powers. While made sense given that it was rumoured the girl was blessed by Artemis in her skills with her bow.
"In a way." Vangelis answered in reply to her query. "I admire that it is a skill that can be praised without the need for bloodshed."
Archery was just as much as sport as it was a skill to be used in battle. Yet, if one wanted to show that he was a skilled bladesmith or other such weapons, he had to be fighting another person - able to draw blood in their mastery over the other. Archery one could prove their skills without it being violent upon another.
Vangelis' expression barely changed during his interactions with his cousin. As she realised the error that had led him to practice his military craft in a space that was perhaps inappropriate, her anger at his disruption to her day seemed to evaporate and she kept her maturity and dignity by admitted fault, apologising and suggesting a solution to the problem at hand.
Whilst an apology and admittance of fault was not something Vangelis had either expected nor needed from his pretty cousin, he was admiring of her attitude in offering it. The Dimitrou and Kotas were perhaps more alike than he had supposed over the years and saw the benefit of truth and learning over that of reputation and saving face. That at least, regardless of the circumstances that had brought it to the surface, he could respect and like in the young woman.
When she offered to show him the way to practice courts for just such honing of crafts, Vangelis was in agreement with her that not all manors separated out an area of land for such activities. Not even Kotas held a specially designed area to encourage the training that all of the men within the bloodline were expected to master.
Perhaps it was the fact that militia was so ingrained into the genetics of the Kotas line that there was no need to create a specifically delegated area for such things. The entirety of the Kotas land became a potential mock battlefield for honing such expertise.
Waving aside her apologies as if they were not required - which he didn't believe that they were - Vangelis instead turned to follow the young woman with the thick dark hair down a side path that she seemed to know better than her own name. Her feet found the easiest steps and avoided any potential trip hazard without her needing to look down. And very quickly they arrived at an open grassy space that stood devoid of any trees or bushel and had been trimmed and kept clear for work outs and physical exertion.
Vangelis glanced around, accepting that he was impressed and holding a passing fancy that it was a shame Colchis did not own such easily accessible open space. Perhaps such a thing would be of use to the training of military units.
It took only a moment for Dorothea to naturally gravitate towards that which she was most skilled at - as if she were drawn there by a force beyond her own powers. While made sense given that it was rumoured the girl was blessed by Artemis in her skills with her bow.
"In a way." Vangelis answered in reply to her query. "I admire that it is a skill that can be praised without the need for bloodshed."
Archery was just as much as sport as it was a skill to be used in battle. Yet, if one wanted to show that he was a skilled bladesmith or other such weapons, he had to be fighting another person - able to draw blood in their mastery over the other. Archery one could prove their skills without it being violent upon another.
Dorothea was aware that their practice courts were unusual. She had never seen another place like it in all of the estates that she had visited. She was slightly surprised to discover that her cousin did not seem to have one at his home. He had not known to look for theirs, so she was making an assumption. They were an active family, she thought, much like her own. Doro knew that without their practice courts, she likely would have gone crazy. As a child she had a lot of energy – well, she still had a lot of energy. The courts started as a place for her to practice her archery skills, then grew to a place where they could all practice as her energy overflowed.
Her cousin was a man of few words, Dorothea’s memory filling in with her current experience. He dismissed her apology with a wave of the hand, yet said nothing. She wondered what he was really thinking. At the very least, he answered her question. She was beginning to wonder if he communicated everything by waves of hands and grunts. At least his sister was not so untalkative. That would have made their lessons dreadfully boring.
“Unnecessary bloodshed,” Dorothea clarified. There was an aspect to the sport that certainly involved bloodshed of others. They had gone on many hunts over the years and her skill with the bow was what felled many of the creatures. “I promise that the bow and arrow can be lethal.”
She had never used her weapon upon another person. That wasn’t the way that it could be practiced normally. She could certainly point out all the parts of the human body that her arrow would do the most damage, trusting her aim to be true should she ever choose to hurt someone.
Suddenly, she was very curious to see what skills her cousin possessed. She had some idea of his skills with a sword, but could he do it with another weapon? He seemed to have some appreciation of the weapon, having gifted his sister with a beautiful one. Could he also shoot?
“I was impressed by your sister’s weapon – it’s quite beautiful. Would you care to take a look at our practice bows? Perhaps a friendly competition between cousins? I would be honored to watch you shoot.” She was being truthful – she wanted to learn more about his skills. However, there was also a small desire in her to see who was better. She excelled at archery, but whenever there was a chance to put her skills to the test she was anxious to try.
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Dorothea was aware that their practice courts were unusual. She had never seen another place like it in all of the estates that she had visited. She was slightly surprised to discover that her cousin did not seem to have one at his home. He had not known to look for theirs, so she was making an assumption. They were an active family, she thought, much like her own. Doro knew that without their practice courts, she likely would have gone crazy. As a child she had a lot of energy – well, she still had a lot of energy. The courts started as a place for her to practice her archery skills, then grew to a place where they could all practice as her energy overflowed.
Her cousin was a man of few words, Dorothea’s memory filling in with her current experience. He dismissed her apology with a wave of the hand, yet said nothing. She wondered what he was really thinking. At the very least, he answered her question. She was beginning to wonder if he communicated everything by waves of hands and grunts. At least his sister was not so untalkative. That would have made their lessons dreadfully boring.
“Unnecessary bloodshed,” Dorothea clarified. There was an aspect to the sport that certainly involved bloodshed of others. They had gone on many hunts over the years and her skill with the bow was what felled many of the creatures. “I promise that the bow and arrow can be lethal.”
She had never used her weapon upon another person. That wasn’t the way that it could be practiced normally. She could certainly point out all the parts of the human body that her arrow would do the most damage, trusting her aim to be true should she ever choose to hurt someone.
Suddenly, she was very curious to see what skills her cousin possessed. She had some idea of his skills with a sword, but could he do it with another weapon? He seemed to have some appreciation of the weapon, having gifted his sister with a beautiful one. Could he also shoot?
“I was impressed by your sister’s weapon – it’s quite beautiful. Would you care to take a look at our practice bows? Perhaps a friendly competition between cousins? I would be honored to watch you shoot.” She was being truthful – she wanted to learn more about his skills. However, there was also a small desire in her to see who was better. She excelled at archery, but whenever there was a chance to put her skills to the test she was anxious to try.
Dorothea was aware that their practice courts were unusual. She had never seen another place like it in all of the estates that she had visited. She was slightly surprised to discover that her cousin did not seem to have one at his home. He had not known to look for theirs, so she was making an assumption. They were an active family, she thought, much like her own. Doro knew that without their practice courts, she likely would have gone crazy. As a child she had a lot of energy – well, she still had a lot of energy. The courts started as a place for her to practice her archery skills, then grew to a place where they could all practice as her energy overflowed.
Her cousin was a man of few words, Dorothea’s memory filling in with her current experience. He dismissed her apology with a wave of the hand, yet said nothing. She wondered what he was really thinking. At the very least, he answered her question. She was beginning to wonder if he communicated everything by waves of hands and grunts. At least his sister was not so untalkative. That would have made their lessons dreadfully boring.
“Unnecessary bloodshed,” Dorothea clarified. There was an aspect to the sport that certainly involved bloodshed of others. They had gone on many hunts over the years and her skill with the bow was what felled many of the creatures. “I promise that the bow and arrow can be lethal.”
She had never used her weapon upon another person. That wasn’t the way that it could be practiced normally. She could certainly point out all the parts of the human body that her arrow would do the most damage, trusting her aim to be true should she ever choose to hurt someone.
Suddenly, she was very curious to see what skills her cousin possessed. She had some idea of his skills with a sword, but could he do it with another weapon? He seemed to have some appreciation of the weapon, having gifted his sister with a beautiful one. Could he also shoot?
“I was impressed by your sister’s weapon – it’s quite beautiful. Would you care to take a look at our practice bows? Perhaps a friendly competition between cousins? I would be honored to watch you shoot.” She was being truthful – she wanted to learn more about his skills. However, there was also a small desire in her to see who was better. She excelled at archery, but whenever there was a chance to put her skills to the test she was anxious to try.
Grunts, gestures and hand waves were exactly how Vangelis would most often communicate. Long ago, he had worked out through more experience than explicit lessons that were you to say nothing, the words could not come back to haunt you, taken out of context and twisted into the purpose and use that other men considered most valuable to themselves. A simple wave, a gesture or a nod could never be manipulated. For when asked to prove that he had in fact given permission, assented to their plans or determined their plans and means to be correct, they could never provide real words or happenstance that he had given.
That, and the fact that words just simply weren't his forte.
When his young cousin corrected his wording by specifying that archery could be applied without unnecessary bloodshed and that the weapon of Artemis cold be just as fatal as any that were wielded by her uncle the God of War, Vangelis glanced her way. His expression was calm but his gaze pointed, straight and focused.
"I meant to praise the skill that it can be applied without bloodshed at all." He commented, his gaze turning pointedly to the targets lined up at head of them. "Dealing damage to only straw and yet still proving your skill is more than can be done with a sword." When his stare turned back to his cousin, his words left him a little disenchanted; haunted by the combat he had seen throughout his life.
"I can assure you that any skill with any weapon being lethal is valiant if one need food or to defend their people. But is otherwise far from praise-worthy."
Perhaps a strange thing for a military man to admit, Vangelis was neither embarrassed nor ashamed to speak his mind, his confidence and self-assurance in position and in life permitting him the liberty to speak with total truth.
Yet, when the young girl mirrored his own thoughts regarding a contest, his tone of voice turned lighter, even if his expressions did not relax.
"I think it foolish of me to accept a challenge from one deemed as blessed but there is no audience to see me falter so I shall accept the learning opportunity." He determined, half serious and half joking.
For whilst he might not be blessed by any Goddess in the skill of stringing a bow and setting the arrow loose, he was a man who had been trained in every form of weapon since the age of six. At thirty-two years of age, he was hardly a man inexperienced with such a craft and could hold his own against almost any archer in his army. Despite the fact that his own preference for weaponry was the swords. Such a talent was neither born nor God-given but simply the product of more time than others spent honing away at the skill. He would be honestly curious to see where such dedication landed him on the spectrum of alacrity with a bow, next to a young woman supported by the divine...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Grunts, gestures and hand waves were exactly how Vangelis would most often communicate. Long ago, he had worked out through more experience than explicit lessons that were you to say nothing, the words could not come back to haunt you, taken out of context and twisted into the purpose and use that other men considered most valuable to themselves. A simple wave, a gesture or a nod could never be manipulated. For when asked to prove that he had in fact given permission, assented to their plans or determined their plans and means to be correct, they could never provide real words or happenstance that he had given.
That, and the fact that words just simply weren't his forte.
When his young cousin corrected his wording by specifying that archery could be applied without unnecessary bloodshed and that the weapon of Artemis cold be just as fatal as any that were wielded by her uncle the God of War, Vangelis glanced her way. His expression was calm but his gaze pointed, straight and focused.
"I meant to praise the skill that it can be applied without bloodshed at all." He commented, his gaze turning pointedly to the targets lined up at head of them. "Dealing damage to only straw and yet still proving your skill is more than can be done with a sword." When his stare turned back to his cousin, his words left him a little disenchanted; haunted by the combat he had seen throughout his life.
"I can assure you that any skill with any weapon being lethal is valiant if one need food or to defend their people. But is otherwise far from praise-worthy."
Perhaps a strange thing for a military man to admit, Vangelis was neither embarrassed nor ashamed to speak his mind, his confidence and self-assurance in position and in life permitting him the liberty to speak with total truth.
Yet, when the young girl mirrored his own thoughts regarding a contest, his tone of voice turned lighter, even if his expressions did not relax.
"I think it foolish of me to accept a challenge from one deemed as blessed but there is no audience to see me falter so I shall accept the learning opportunity." He determined, half serious and half joking.
For whilst he might not be blessed by any Goddess in the skill of stringing a bow and setting the arrow loose, he was a man who had been trained in every form of weapon since the age of six. At thirty-two years of age, he was hardly a man inexperienced with such a craft and could hold his own against almost any archer in his army. Despite the fact that his own preference for weaponry was the swords. Such a talent was neither born nor God-given but simply the product of more time than others spent honing away at the skill. He would be honestly curious to see where such dedication landed him on the spectrum of alacrity with a bow, next to a young woman supported by the divine...
Grunts, gestures and hand waves were exactly how Vangelis would most often communicate. Long ago, he had worked out through more experience than explicit lessons that were you to say nothing, the words could not come back to haunt you, taken out of context and twisted into the purpose and use that other men considered most valuable to themselves. A simple wave, a gesture or a nod could never be manipulated. For when asked to prove that he had in fact given permission, assented to their plans or determined their plans and means to be correct, they could never provide real words or happenstance that he had given.
That, and the fact that words just simply weren't his forte.
When his young cousin corrected his wording by specifying that archery could be applied without unnecessary bloodshed and that the weapon of Artemis cold be just as fatal as any that were wielded by her uncle the God of War, Vangelis glanced her way. His expression was calm but his gaze pointed, straight and focused.
"I meant to praise the skill that it can be applied without bloodshed at all." He commented, his gaze turning pointedly to the targets lined up at head of them. "Dealing damage to only straw and yet still proving your skill is more than can be done with a sword." When his stare turned back to his cousin, his words left him a little disenchanted; haunted by the combat he had seen throughout his life.
"I can assure you that any skill with any weapon being lethal is valiant if one need food or to defend their people. But is otherwise far from praise-worthy."
Perhaps a strange thing for a military man to admit, Vangelis was neither embarrassed nor ashamed to speak his mind, his confidence and self-assurance in position and in life permitting him the liberty to speak with total truth.
Yet, when the young girl mirrored his own thoughts regarding a contest, his tone of voice turned lighter, even if his expressions did not relax.
"I think it foolish of me to accept a challenge from one deemed as blessed but there is no audience to see me falter so I shall accept the learning opportunity." He determined, half serious and half joking.
For whilst he might not be blessed by any Goddess in the skill of stringing a bow and setting the arrow loose, he was a man who had been trained in every form of weapon since the age of six. At thirty-two years of age, he was hardly a man inexperienced with such a craft and could hold his own against almost any archer in his army. Despite the fact that his own preference for weaponry was the swords. Such a talent was neither born nor God-given but simply the product of more time than others spent honing away at the skill. He would be honestly curious to see where such dedication landed him on the spectrum of alacrity with a bow, next to a young woman supported by the divine...
It seemed as though they were engaging in a game of clarifications, attempting to understand one another. Her cousin elucidated upon his statement, prompting thought in Dorothea. She understood what he meant completely and found that was partly why she had been drawn to the bow and arrow. Yet, it was more than just a game for her, a competition to prove her skill. It was about being so in tune with something that it felt like an extension of herself. She had never gotten this from anything else in her life, except with her bow. Dorothea felt instantly calmer with her instrument in hand and the world felt sharper and more focused. Yes, she could display her skill without hurting anyone, but it wasn’t always about displaying skill at all. She would, and often did, shoot happily for hours without another soul seeing her work.
Dorothea had to admit that she only understood a fraction of Vangelis’s comment. At least, in who it came from. She would have thought he might have professed a stronger affection for his sword. Yet, it seemed that they saw their weapons in a different light. She assumed that his sword felt like an extension of him – that was obvious by how he moved – but perhaps he didn’t feel the same way about it as she did her bow. Of course, she had never killed a human with her weapon and perhaps that was all the difference.
“Well, from what I’ve heard you’ve always used your weapon in such a valiant effort. The great care I see you take with it deserves praise. It is not all men who behave in such a careful manner.” Truly, men when they were fighting sometimes seemed as though they had not a thought about who they might kill or why. She could tell that her cousin spent a great deal of time thinking about exactly such things.
She had been curious if he would accept her challenge – he seemed to know her skill (that was why his sister had brought into her care), but she was certain that he would feel some sense of superiority having not seen her shoot himself. It was the way of men. They always thought they were better than women, especially when it came to the fighting arts.
Dorothea grinned back at him, pleased by his acceptance and slightly surprised by his humility. If there was anything she was already learning about her cousin, it was that he was certainly not what she expected of men. His vulnerability had been quite pleasant.
“I am honored to compete with you,” Dorothea smiled back. She led him back towards the archery range and motioned for him to pick a weapon of his choosing from their locked weapons area. There were several different bows there for him to choose from seeing as he had not brought his own.
“We shall keep this simple,” she said once he had selected his weapon. “There will be three rounds. Each round will consist of us shooting three arrows in a row from a particular distance away. After each round, we shall retrieve our arrows, count the points and move to a further distance. The sum of our points shall declare one of us a winner. Additionally, we shall be keeping time during each of the rounds so that if our scores are equal, we have another measurement of scorekeeping. You may take as long as you need between shots, but swiftness is a valued component of archery. Any questions?”
As the Dimitrou spoke, she gestured to the various lines that had been marked on the range, indicating distances from the targets. Everything had been painstakingly measured out at some point and was generally what Dorothea used to gauge her skill.
“Do you have a coin on you?” she asked. “I think it’s only fair we flip to see who goes first.” Oh, this was going to be interesting.
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It seemed as though they were engaging in a game of clarifications, attempting to understand one another. Her cousin elucidated upon his statement, prompting thought in Dorothea. She understood what he meant completely and found that was partly why she had been drawn to the bow and arrow. Yet, it was more than just a game for her, a competition to prove her skill. It was about being so in tune with something that it felt like an extension of herself. She had never gotten this from anything else in her life, except with her bow. Dorothea felt instantly calmer with her instrument in hand and the world felt sharper and more focused. Yes, she could display her skill without hurting anyone, but it wasn’t always about displaying skill at all. She would, and often did, shoot happily for hours without another soul seeing her work.
Dorothea had to admit that she only understood a fraction of Vangelis’s comment. At least, in who it came from. She would have thought he might have professed a stronger affection for his sword. Yet, it seemed that they saw their weapons in a different light. She assumed that his sword felt like an extension of him – that was obvious by how he moved – but perhaps he didn’t feel the same way about it as she did her bow. Of course, she had never killed a human with her weapon and perhaps that was all the difference.
“Well, from what I’ve heard you’ve always used your weapon in such a valiant effort. The great care I see you take with it deserves praise. It is not all men who behave in such a careful manner.” Truly, men when they were fighting sometimes seemed as though they had not a thought about who they might kill or why. She could tell that her cousin spent a great deal of time thinking about exactly such things.
She had been curious if he would accept her challenge – he seemed to know her skill (that was why his sister had brought into her care), but she was certain that he would feel some sense of superiority having not seen her shoot himself. It was the way of men. They always thought they were better than women, especially when it came to the fighting arts.
Dorothea grinned back at him, pleased by his acceptance and slightly surprised by his humility. If there was anything she was already learning about her cousin, it was that he was certainly not what she expected of men. His vulnerability had been quite pleasant.
“I am honored to compete with you,” Dorothea smiled back. She led him back towards the archery range and motioned for him to pick a weapon of his choosing from their locked weapons area. There were several different bows there for him to choose from seeing as he had not brought his own.
“We shall keep this simple,” she said once he had selected his weapon. “There will be three rounds. Each round will consist of us shooting three arrows in a row from a particular distance away. After each round, we shall retrieve our arrows, count the points and move to a further distance. The sum of our points shall declare one of us a winner. Additionally, we shall be keeping time during each of the rounds so that if our scores are equal, we have another measurement of scorekeeping. You may take as long as you need between shots, but swiftness is a valued component of archery. Any questions?”
As the Dimitrou spoke, she gestured to the various lines that had been marked on the range, indicating distances from the targets. Everything had been painstakingly measured out at some point and was generally what Dorothea used to gauge her skill.
“Do you have a coin on you?” she asked. “I think it’s only fair we flip to see who goes first.” Oh, this was going to be interesting.
It seemed as though they were engaging in a game of clarifications, attempting to understand one another. Her cousin elucidated upon his statement, prompting thought in Dorothea. She understood what he meant completely and found that was partly why she had been drawn to the bow and arrow. Yet, it was more than just a game for her, a competition to prove her skill. It was about being so in tune with something that it felt like an extension of herself. She had never gotten this from anything else in her life, except with her bow. Dorothea felt instantly calmer with her instrument in hand and the world felt sharper and more focused. Yes, she could display her skill without hurting anyone, but it wasn’t always about displaying skill at all. She would, and often did, shoot happily for hours without another soul seeing her work.
Dorothea had to admit that she only understood a fraction of Vangelis’s comment. At least, in who it came from. She would have thought he might have professed a stronger affection for his sword. Yet, it seemed that they saw their weapons in a different light. She assumed that his sword felt like an extension of him – that was obvious by how he moved – but perhaps he didn’t feel the same way about it as she did her bow. Of course, she had never killed a human with her weapon and perhaps that was all the difference.
“Well, from what I’ve heard you’ve always used your weapon in such a valiant effort. The great care I see you take with it deserves praise. It is not all men who behave in such a careful manner.” Truly, men when they were fighting sometimes seemed as though they had not a thought about who they might kill or why. She could tell that her cousin spent a great deal of time thinking about exactly such things.
She had been curious if he would accept her challenge – he seemed to know her skill (that was why his sister had brought into her care), but she was certain that he would feel some sense of superiority having not seen her shoot himself. It was the way of men. They always thought they were better than women, especially when it came to the fighting arts.
Dorothea grinned back at him, pleased by his acceptance and slightly surprised by his humility. If there was anything she was already learning about her cousin, it was that he was certainly not what she expected of men. His vulnerability had been quite pleasant.
“I am honored to compete with you,” Dorothea smiled back. She led him back towards the archery range and motioned for him to pick a weapon of his choosing from their locked weapons area. There were several different bows there for him to choose from seeing as he had not brought his own.
“We shall keep this simple,” she said once he had selected his weapon. “There will be three rounds. Each round will consist of us shooting three arrows in a row from a particular distance away. After each round, we shall retrieve our arrows, count the points and move to a further distance. The sum of our points shall declare one of us a winner. Additionally, we shall be keeping time during each of the rounds so that if our scores are equal, we have another measurement of scorekeeping. You may take as long as you need between shots, but swiftness is a valued component of archery. Any questions?”
As the Dimitrou spoke, she gestured to the various lines that had been marked on the range, indicating distances from the targets. Everything had been painstakingly measured out at some point and was generally what Dorothea used to gauge her skill.
“Do you have a coin on you?” she asked. “I think it’s only fair we flip to see who goes first.” Oh, this was going to be interesting.
Vangelis' expression was calm and one of subtle thought when his cousin mentioned of his reputation with a blade. Had he truly been given such a rumour in her family? Around the nobles and talkers of Colchis, he was known as the Blood General. The man who slayed and killed without discrimination and in a manner of bloody violence that saw an end to skirmishes and battles before more than the necessary sacrifices had been slain to the God of War.
Hardly a man considered 'careful' in his craft.
Yet the Dimitrous were an extension of family. Perhaps it was safe to say that Yanni had spoken of a different kind of Vangelis to her brother and such words had found their way to his cousin. Whilst his own people might think of him as a killing machine, his bloodline was perhaps a little more open minded.
With a soft sort of nod that didn't wholly across with the Lady Dorothea's assessment, nor discard it from the conversation, Vangelis was simply his own way, of bluntly honest.
"If that be true, you have our shared aunt to thank for that. Perhaps for your talent with a bow also. She was a good huntress and always respectful of the power weapons hold."
Surprised that the young woman considered careful fighting to be a praise-worthy quality in a man; when normally strength, power and the ability to crush your enemies were the most significant attributes required in the male of the species, Vangelis found himself regretful that he had not spoken more with his cousin before. She had a mind that he liked and seemed about to co-exist with.
When she set about organising their little contest, Vangelis turned to his belt buckle and shed himself of the sheathes at his hips and across his chest so that he might be able to move well enough to compete with an entirely different weapon. He listened as she explained the rules of the competition and nodded at the appropriate intervals to show that he understood. As he did so, he turned to the plethora of archery weapons that were open to his choice and selected the longest one.
Bows of long shape were the hardest to draw in terms of strength - the length of the stem and reed giving more power against the shooter's direction. Yet, for taller beings they worked well with the shape and dynamics of their arms and shoulders. So, if one had the strength, the longer bows to fit impressive heights were certainly the deadliest. And Vangelis was several inches over six foot.
Testing the curve of the reed, the tightness of the string and picking up a hip quiver of arrows that he fastened quickly into place, Vangelis offered a half smile at Dorothea's suggestion to flip a coin.
"You think me willing to anger the Goddess by not permitting her chosen to go first. I wouldn't give myself such a disadvantage." He offered, half serious and half teasing. His nudged his temple in the direction of the targets. "You're first, My Lady."
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Vangelis' expression was calm and one of subtle thought when his cousin mentioned of his reputation with a blade. Had he truly been given such a rumour in her family? Around the nobles and talkers of Colchis, he was known as the Blood General. The man who slayed and killed without discrimination and in a manner of bloody violence that saw an end to skirmishes and battles before more than the necessary sacrifices had been slain to the God of War.
Hardly a man considered 'careful' in his craft.
Yet the Dimitrous were an extension of family. Perhaps it was safe to say that Yanni had spoken of a different kind of Vangelis to her brother and such words had found their way to his cousin. Whilst his own people might think of him as a killing machine, his bloodline was perhaps a little more open minded.
With a soft sort of nod that didn't wholly across with the Lady Dorothea's assessment, nor discard it from the conversation, Vangelis was simply his own way, of bluntly honest.
"If that be true, you have our shared aunt to thank for that. Perhaps for your talent with a bow also. She was a good huntress and always respectful of the power weapons hold."
Surprised that the young woman considered careful fighting to be a praise-worthy quality in a man; when normally strength, power and the ability to crush your enemies were the most significant attributes required in the male of the species, Vangelis found himself regretful that he had not spoken more with his cousin before. She had a mind that he liked and seemed about to co-exist with.
When she set about organising their little contest, Vangelis turned to his belt buckle and shed himself of the sheathes at his hips and across his chest so that he might be able to move well enough to compete with an entirely different weapon. He listened as she explained the rules of the competition and nodded at the appropriate intervals to show that he understood. As he did so, he turned to the plethora of archery weapons that were open to his choice and selected the longest one.
Bows of long shape were the hardest to draw in terms of strength - the length of the stem and reed giving more power against the shooter's direction. Yet, for taller beings they worked well with the shape and dynamics of their arms and shoulders. So, if one had the strength, the longer bows to fit impressive heights were certainly the deadliest. And Vangelis was several inches over six foot.
Testing the curve of the reed, the tightness of the string and picking up a hip quiver of arrows that he fastened quickly into place, Vangelis offered a half smile at Dorothea's suggestion to flip a coin.
"You think me willing to anger the Goddess by not permitting her chosen to go first. I wouldn't give myself such a disadvantage." He offered, half serious and half teasing. His nudged his temple in the direction of the targets. "You're first, My Lady."
Vangelis' expression was calm and one of subtle thought when his cousin mentioned of his reputation with a blade. Had he truly been given such a rumour in her family? Around the nobles and talkers of Colchis, he was known as the Blood General. The man who slayed and killed without discrimination and in a manner of bloody violence that saw an end to skirmishes and battles before more than the necessary sacrifices had been slain to the God of War.
Hardly a man considered 'careful' in his craft.
Yet the Dimitrous were an extension of family. Perhaps it was safe to say that Yanni had spoken of a different kind of Vangelis to her brother and such words had found their way to his cousin. Whilst his own people might think of him as a killing machine, his bloodline was perhaps a little more open minded.
With a soft sort of nod that didn't wholly across with the Lady Dorothea's assessment, nor discard it from the conversation, Vangelis was simply his own way, of bluntly honest.
"If that be true, you have our shared aunt to thank for that. Perhaps for your talent with a bow also. She was a good huntress and always respectful of the power weapons hold."
Surprised that the young woman considered careful fighting to be a praise-worthy quality in a man; when normally strength, power and the ability to crush your enemies were the most significant attributes required in the male of the species, Vangelis found himself regretful that he had not spoken more with his cousin before. She had a mind that he liked and seemed about to co-exist with.
When she set about organising their little contest, Vangelis turned to his belt buckle and shed himself of the sheathes at his hips and across his chest so that he might be able to move well enough to compete with an entirely different weapon. He listened as she explained the rules of the competition and nodded at the appropriate intervals to show that he understood. As he did so, he turned to the plethora of archery weapons that were open to his choice and selected the longest one.
Bows of long shape were the hardest to draw in terms of strength - the length of the stem and reed giving more power against the shooter's direction. Yet, for taller beings they worked well with the shape and dynamics of their arms and shoulders. So, if one had the strength, the longer bows to fit impressive heights were certainly the deadliest. And Vangelis was several inches over six foot.
Testing the curve of the reed, the tightness of the string and picking up a hip quiver of arrows that he fastened quickly into place, Vangelis offered a half smile at Dorothea's suggestion to flip a coin.
"You think me willing to anger the Goddess by not permitting her chosen to go first. I wouldn't give myself such a disadvantage." He offered, half serious and half teasing. His nudged his temple in the direction of the targets. "You're first, My Lady."
Dorothea could admit to not knowing her cousin very well, but she had heard enough about him to understand some about him. She was not unaware of his reputation in Colchis but chose not to let any of that impact her opinion of him. Dorothea always preferred to make her own opinions of others. In her experience, what others had to say always missed elements of the truth. She didn’t always see things the same way as even those she would consider to be peers. As such, Dorothea took little stock in what others said until she could form her own opinion. Up to now, Vangelis had conducted himself in a fitting manner. Despite her initial reaction about his nearly slicing her with his sword, she relaxed. It was clear he was in control.
“Yes, perhaps we do. Respect for weapons is extremely valuable. Not everyone shares that,” Dorothea replied to his comment about their shared relative.
The woman watched as Vangelis carefully assessed his weapon options before making his selection. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he would choose the largest bow there. It was one that Dorothea rarely shot from. Aside from her natural preference for her own bow, that one was sized too large for her. She could, of course, pull its mighty string back and even manage to shoot her intended target. It took more work than she wanted in a sport that preferred speed. Yet, she could see how it would be a good match for her cousin. He was far larger than she and Dorothea hadn’t not noticed his muscles when she happened upon him earlier. He clearly trained for hours a day, so drawing the string wouldn’t be as much of an issue as it would for her. Still, she was curious to watch him shoot.
Dorothea shot her cousin a smile at his suggestion that she go first. That was only fair, after all, but she thought she would offer him an impartial decision. “Of course,” she replied politely. “My pleasure.”
Ever since she had been suggested the competition, Dorothea had debated how to shoot. She could, of course, shoot from this distance in her sleep. It was not much of a challenge for her. The targets weren’t even moving. However she was competing against a man who she was fairly certain was used to winning. Did he expect to win here? Should she let him? That thought was dismissed after a mere moment. It did not matter what he was used to doing. She should not give him one ounce of leeway. She had skills that she had honed after many years of practice. Much like he had with swordplay. She should not hold anything back. Perhaps it was a bit unfair to him, but Dorothea decided he could handle it. If not…well, then he wasn’t going to be the person she thought he was.
She took a moment to grab three arrows, stepping up to the line to fire at her target. Dorothea took a deep breath—this was her arena—and upon the exhale, released the arrows in quick succession. The entire exchange took less than five seconds, perhaps three. And from their vantage point, it appeared each arrow had found center, creating a tight nook. Of course, they would compare each other’s with a closer inspection once Vangelis made his shots.
“Your turn, cousin,” she said, turning around, smiling.
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Dorothea could admit to not knowing her cousin very well, but she had heard enough about him to understand some about him. She was not unaware of his reputation in Colchis but chose not to let any of that impact her opinion of him. Dorothea always preferred to make her own opinions of others. In her experience, what others had to say always missed elements of the truth. She didn’t always see things the same way as even those she would consider to be peers. As such, Dorothea took little stock in what others said until she could form her own opinion. Up to now, Vangelis had conducted himself in a fitting manner. Despite her initial reaction about his nearly slicing her with his sword, she relaxed. It was clear he was in control.
“Yes, perhaps we do. Respect for weapons is extremely valuable. Not everyone shares that,” Dorothea replied to his comment about their shared relative.
The woman watched as Vangelis carefully assessed his weapon options before making his selection. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he would choose the largest bow there. It was one that Dorothea rarely shot from. Aside from her natural preference for her own bow, that one was sized too large for her. She could, of course, pull its mighty string back and even manage to shoot her intended target. It took more work than she wanted in a sport that preferred speed. Yet, she could see how it would be a good match for her cousin. He was far larger than she and Dorothea hadn’t not noticed his muscles when she happened upon him earlier. He clearly trained for hours a day, so drawing the string wouldn’t be as much of an issue as it would for her. Still, she was curious to watch him shoot.
Dorothea shot her cousin a smile at his suggestion that she go first. That was only fair, after all, but she thought she would offer him an impartial decision. “Of course,” she replied politely. “My pleasure.”
Ever since she had been suggested the competition, Dorothea had debated how to shoot. She could, of course, shoot from this distance in her sleep. It was not much of a challenge for her. The targets weren’t even moving. However she was competing against a man who she was fairly certain was used to winning. Did he expect to win here? Should she let him? That thought was dismissed after a mere moment. It did not matter what he was used to doing. She should not give him one ounce of leeway. She had skills that she had honed after many years of practice. Much like he had with swordplay. She should not hold anything back. Perhaps it was a bit unfair to him, but Dorothea decided he could handle it. If not…well, then he wasn’t going to be the person she thought he was.
She took a moment to grab three arrows, stepping up to the line to fire at her target. Dorothea took a deep breath—this was her arena—and upon the exhale, released the arrows in quick succession. The entire exchange took less than five seconds, perhaps three. And from their vantage point, it appeared each arrow had found center, creating a tight nook. Of course, they would compare each other’s with a closer inspection once Vangelis made his shots.
“Your turn, cousin,” she said, turning around, smiling.
Dorothea could admit to not knowing her cousin very well, but she had heard enough about him to understand some about him. She was not unaware of his reputation in Colchis but chose not to let any of that impact her opinion of him. Dorothea always preferred to make her own opinions of others. In her experience, what others had to say always missed elements of the truth. She didn’t always see things the same way as even those she would consider to be peers. As such, Dorothea took little stock in what others said until she could form her own opinion. Up to now, Vangelis had conducted himself in a fitting manner. Despite her initial reaction about his nearly slicing her with his sword, she relaxed. It was clear he was in control.
“Yes, perhaps we do. Respect for weapons is extremely valuable. Not everyone shares that,” Dorothea replied to his comment about their shared relative.
The woman watched as Vangelis carefully assessed his weapon options before making his selection. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he would choose the largest bow there. It was one that Dorothea rarely shot from. Aside from her natural preference for her own bow, that one was sized too large for her. She could, of course, pull its mighty string back and even manage to shoot her intended target. It took more work than she wanted in a sport that preferred speed. Yet, she could see how it would be a good match for her cousin. He was far larger than she and Dorothea hadn’t not noticed his muscles when she happened upon him earlier. He clearly trained for hours a day, so drawing the string wouldn’t be as much of an issue as it would for her. Still, she was curious to watch him shoot.
Dorothea shot her cousin a smile at his suggestion that she go first. That was only fair, after all, but she thought she would offer him an impartial decision. “Of course,” she replied politely. “My pleasure.”
Ever since she had been suggested the competition, Dorothea had debated how to shoot. She could, of course, shoot from this distance in her sleep. It was not much of a challenge for her. The targets weren’t even moving. However she was competing against a man who she was fairly certain was used to winning. Did he expect to win here? Should she let him? That thought was dismissed after a mere moment. It did not matter what he was used to doing. She should not give him one ounce of leeway. She had skills that she had honed after many years of practice. Much like he had with swordplay. She should not hold anything back. Perhaps it was a bit unfair to him, but Dorothea decided he could handle it. If not…well, then he wasn’t going to be the person she thought he was.
She took a moment to grab three arrows, stepping up to the line to fire at her target. Dorothea took a deep breath—this was her arena—and upon the exhale, released the arrows in quick succession. The entire exchange took less than five seconds, perhaps three. And from their vantage point, it appeared each arrow had found center, creating a tight nook. Of course, they would compare each other’s with a closer inspection once Vangelis made his shots.
“Your turn, cousin,” she said, turning around, smiling.
Vangelis was no amateur with a bow. As it was the least dangerous weapon to wield when inexperienced (at least in terms of being able to harm yourself) it was one of the first weapons that Vangelis had ever taken in hand as a youngster. He had learnt to shoot almost as soon as he had learnt to walk, not moving on to blades and more dangerous weaponry (the kind he could take his own fingers off with) until later in life. But, as his focus had been turned to kinglier role of militant leader, he had focused on the use of swords, pikes and halberds. The weapons that could be used from the back of a horse. For, as skilled a horseman as Vangelis was, he could not ride without holding onto the reins in some manner and archery required two. As such, his focus had moved elsewhere and he now prided himself as a swordsman beyond most other trades of war. Yet, archery had always been a talent that he was forced to keep in reasonably good condition. For a talent unused as a talent lost; a skill forced to be relearnt from scratch. And Vangelis was all about the efficiency of his time, actions and training.
So, when Dorothea had suggested a little competition between the two, he had not been fearful of the outcome. A man - as she so rightly considered - used to winning, Vangelis was not arrogant nor egoistic over this fact. He simply knew that, by luck of birth, he had been given far more hours of open occupation in his day with which to train and perfect his crafts. He was good because he practised. and he was lucky to be born to a family and blood line that permitted him the time for such practice. That was all.
But regardless of the whys and hows, Vangelis knew himself to be a skilled fighter. A skilled archer. He also knew that Dorothea was heralded as being blessed by Artemis she was so skilled with a bow. And whilst Vangelis had never considered women to be inferior in the art of archery - for he had female archers in his own army - it wasn't until now that he had a moment of self-reflection that he had never considered them to be equal to men of the same profession.
Yet, he knew that females could draw a bow as easily as men. Yes, he knew that their aim and eyesight could be just as good. But men could pull a lower bow string, could pack more power behind a shot and send an arrow further. And when push came to shove a man could give up on firing arrows and simply use their bow as some kind of javelin or mace. Women held less of such power.
It wasn't until he witnessed the speed, grace and accuracy with which Dorothea launched a powerful three-pronged attack on her target, that Vangelis realised such a misjudgement. That he recognised his natural propensity to cast women as inferior in this area of expertise.
For there was nothing inferior about Dorothea's skills with a bow.
"I think I have made a mistake in playing the gentleman." Vangelis stated, with a dry sense of humour. He placed the end of his bow in the grass and folded his hands upon the other end, casually looking out towards the target. He raised a brow at his cousin in a gesture that spoke of his difficulties now. For if he was to aim at the same target as she, how was he now supposed to get his arrows any closer to the centre when her own were in his way?
Taking a moment of thought, Vangelis hefted his bow and took up an arrow ready to be nooked. He pulled the string back and drew the bow in a practiced motion that saw his muscles change and bulge and his hold on the weapon grow firm. His entire stance changed and turned to liquid stone, ready to move with fluidity and yet holding strong against the pressure of the bow. After taking a breath, and feeling no pressure to beat Dorothea in speed, Vangelis let the arrow loose.
It sailed through the air at an impressive rate and, before finding its purchase in the wrapped rope target snapped and clattered against the ends of Dorothea's firmly implanted arrows. The pieces of his own fell to the floor without finding their mark and Vangelis' upper lip protruded as his tongue found the front of his top teeth in thought.
Changing his stance slightly, Vangelis nooked another arrow and then turned his frame as if he were aiming wide of the target. Given his larger bow, the greater power and the faster rate that the arrow would fly, his watched with a careful observation waiting for the gentle breeze around them to die down. Then he loosed his second arrow.
This one didn't hit the target either, but this seemed more deliberate given his positioning. Instead of striking for the rings painted on the target, Vangelis' arrow shot straight passed it and landed in the grass nearby. But not before it had soared through the air with great power and sliced off the ends of two of Dorothea's shafts. Now there was an open space in which a clear view could be seen of the central point on the target. Provided it was sought on the diagonal.
Keeping his odd and slightly sideways stance, Vangelis wasted no time this go around and fired his third arrow directly for that spot, the head of the weapon hitting dead centre on the target, directly between the three points of Dorothea's with its shaft pointed out almost sideways from where he had sent it in on an angle.
He turned to look at Dorothea.
"How was the winner to be dictated again?"
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Vangelis was no amateur with a bow. As it was the least dangerous weapon to wield when inexperienced (at least in terms of being able to harm yourself) it was one of the first weapons that Vangelis had ever taken in hand as a youngster. He had learnt to shoot almost as soon as he had learnt to walk, not moving on to blades and more dangerous weaponry (the kind he could take his own fingers off with) until later in life. But, as his focus had been turned to kinglier role of militant leader, he had focused on the use of swords, pikes and halberds. The weapons that could be used from the back of a horse. For, as skilled a horseman as Vangelis was, he could not ride without holding onto the reins in some manner and archery required two. As such, his focus had moved elsewhere and he now prided himself as a swordsman beyond most other trades of war. Yet, archery had always been a talent that he was forced to keep in reasonably good condition. For a talent unused as a talent lost; a skill forced to be relearnt from scratch. And Vangelis was all about the efficiency of his time, actions and training.
So, when Dorothea had suggested a little competition between the two, he had not been fearful of the outcome. A man - as she so rightly considered - used to winning, Vangelis was not arrogant nor egoistic over this fact. He simply knew that, by luck of birth, he had been given far more hours of open occupation in his day with which to train and perfect his crafts. He was good because he practised. and he was lucky to be born to a family and blood line that permitted him the time for such practice. That was all.
But regardless of the whys and hows, Vangelis knew himself to be a skilled fighter. A skilled archer. He also knew that Dorothea was heralded as being blessed by Artemis she was so skilled with a bow. And whilst Vangelis had never considered women to be inferior in the art of archery - for he had female archers in his own army - it wasn't until now that he had a moment of self-reflection that he had never considered them to be equal to men of the same profession.
Yet, he knew that females could draw a bow as easily as men. Yes, he knew that their aim and eyesight could be just as good. But men could pull a lower bow string, could pack more power behind a shot and send an arrow further. And when push came to shove a man could give up on firing arrows and simply use their bow as some kind of javelin or mace. Women held less of such power.
It wasn't until he witnessed the speed, grace and accuracy with which Dorothea launched a powerful three-pronged attack on her target, that Vangelis realised such a misjudgement. That he recognised his natural propensity to cast women as inferior in this area of expertise.
For there was nothing inferior about Dorothea's skills with a bow.
"I think I have made a mistake in playing the gentleman." Vangelis stated, with a dry sense of humour. He placed the end of his bow in the grass and folded his hands upon the other end, casually looking out towards the target. He raised a brow at his cousin in a gesture that spoke of his difficulties now. For if he was to aim at the same target as she, how was he now supposed to get his arrows any closer to the centre when her own were in his way?
Taking a moment of thought, Vangelis hefted his bow and took up an arrow ready to be nooked. He pulled the string back and drew the bow in a practiced motion that saw his muscles change and bulge and his hold on the weapon grow firm. His entire stance changed and turned to liquid stone, ready to move with fluidity and yet holding strong against the pressure of the bow. After taking a breath, and feeling no pressure to beat Dorothea in speed, Vangelis let the arrow loose.
It sailed through the air at an impressive rate and, before finding its purchase in the wrapped rope target snapped and clattered against the ends of Dorothea's firmly implanted arrows. The pieces of his own fell to the floor without finding their mark and Vangelis' upper lip protruded as his tongue found the front of his top teeth in thought.
Changing his stance slightly, Vangelis nooked another arrow and then turned his frame as if he were aiming wide of the target. Given his larger bow, the greater power and the faster rate that the arrow would fly, his watched with a careful observation waiting for the gentle breeze around them to die down. Then he loosed his second arrow.
This one didn't hit the target either, but this seemed more deliberate given his positioning. Instead of striking for the rings painted on the target, Vangelis' arrow shot straight passed it and landed in the grass nearby. But not before it had soared through the air with great power and sliced off the ends of two of Dorothea's shafts. Now there was an open space in which a clear view could be seen of the central point on the target. Provided it was sought on the diagonal.
Keeping his odd and slightly sideways stance, Vangelis wasted no time this go around and fired his third arrow directly for that spot, the head of the weapon hitting dead centre on the target, directly between the three points of Dorothea's with its shaft pointed out almost sideways from where he had sent it in on an angle.
He turned to look at Dorothea.
"How was the winner to be dictated again?"
Vangelis was no amateur with a bow. As it was the least dangerous weapon to wield when inexperienced (at least in terms of being able to harm yourself) it was one of the first weapons that Vangelis had ever taken in hand as a youngster. He had learnt to shoot almost as soon as he had learnt to walk, not moving on to blades and more dangerous weaponry (the kind he could take his own fingers off with) until later in life. But, as his focus had been turned to kinglier role of militant leader, he had focused on the use of swords, pikes and halberds. The weapons that could be used from the back of a horse. For, as skilled a horseman as Vangelis was, he could not ride without holding onto the reins in some manner and archery required two. As such, his focus had moved elsewhere and he now prided himself as a swordsman beyond most other trades of war. Yet, archery had always been a talent that he was forced to keep in reasonably good condition. For a talent unused as a talent lost; a skill forced to be relearnt from scratch. And Vangelis was all about the efficiency of his time, actions and training.
So, when Dorothea had suggested a little competition between the two, he had not been fearful of the outcome. A man - as she so rightly considered - used to winning, Vangelis was not arrogant nor egoistic over this fact. He simply knew that, by luck of birth, he had been given far more hours of open occupation in his day with which to train and perfect his crafts. He was good because he practised. and he was lucky to be born to a family and blood line that permitted him the time for such practice. That was all.
But regardless of the whys and hows, Vangelis knew himself to be a skilled fighter. A skilled archer. He also knew that Dorothea was heralded as being blessed by Artemis she was so skilled with a bow. And whilst Vangelis had never considered women to be inferior in the art of archery - for he had female archers in his own army - it wasn't until now that he had a moment of self-reflection that he had never considered them to be equal to men of the same profession.
Yet, he knew that females could draw a bow as easily as men. Yes, he knew that their aim and eyesight could be just as good. But men could pull a lower bow string, could pack more power behind a shot and send an arrow further. And when push came to shove a man could give up on firing arrows and simply use their bow as some kind of javelin or mace. Women held less of such power.
It wasn't until he witnessed the speed, grace and accuracy with which Dorothea launched a powerful three-pronged attack on her target, that Vangelis realised such a misjudgement. That he recognised his natural propensity to cast women as inferior in this area of expertise.
For there was nothing inferior about Dorothea's skills with a bow.
"I think I have made a mistake in playing the gentleman." Vangelis stated, with a dry sense of humour. He placed the end of his bow in the grass and folded his hands upon the other end, casually looking out towards the target. He raised a brow at his cousin in a gesture that spoke of his difficulties now. For if he was to aim at the same target as she, how was he now supposed to get his arrows any closer to the centre when her own were in his way?
Taking a moment of thought, Vangelis hefted his bow and took up an arrow ready to be nooked. He pulled the string back and drew the bow in a practiced motion that saw his muscles change and bulge and his hold on the weapon grow firm. His entire stance changed and turned to liquid stone, ready to move with fluidity and yet holding strong against the pressure of the bow. After taking a breath, and feeling no pressure to beat Dorothea in speed, Vangelis let the arrow loose.
It sailed through the air at an impressive rate and, before finding its purchase in the wrapped rope target snapped and clattered against the ends of Dorothea's firmly implanted arrows. The pieces of his own fell to the floor without finding their mark and Vangelis' upper lip protruded as his tongue found the front of his top teeth in thought.
Changing his stance slightly, Vangelis nooked another arrow and then turned his frame as if he were aiming wide of the target. Given his larger bow, the greater power and the faster rate that the arrow would fly, his watched with a careful observation waiting for the gentle breeze around them to die down. Then he loosed his second arrow.
This one didn't hit the target either, but this seemed more deliberate given his positioning. Instead of striking for the rings painted on the target, Vangelis' arrow shot straight passed it and landed in the grass nearby. But not before it had soared through the air with great power and sliced off the ends of two of Dorothea's shafts. Now there was an open space in which a clear view could be seen of the central point on the target. Provided it was sought on the diagonal.
Keeping his odd and slightly sideways stance, Vangelis wasted no time this go around and fired his third arrow directly for that spot, the head of the weapon hitting dead centre on the target, directly between the three points of Dorothea's with its shaft pointed out almost sideways from where he had sent it in on an angle.
He turned to look at Dorothea.
"How was the winner to be dictated again?"
While Dorothea was confident in her skills, she knew not to completely discount her cousin. He had the reputation as a warrior and she was sure that he had taken his time to hone various crafts. In fact, she would have been rather disappointed if this was a dull showing on his behalf. She expected to be challenged. Also, this was what all men thought when they competed against her—that they were going to be supremely challenging. Now, her reputation was well known throughout most of Taengea and it was rare for her to come across anyone who felt that way. Still, there was the rare occasion and Dorothea remembered the feeling well. Not to say that she thought that Vangelis underestimated her. In fact, he probably did not as he had come all this way so that his sister could study with her. Still, he had not yet seen her shoot.
The look upon his face when Dorothea turned around was all she needed to see. It spoke nothing about his own skills, but volumes about hers. She only smiled at his comment, even chuckling slightly when he admitted to being wrong about playing the gentleman. She knew that her arrows marked dead center and it would be difficult for him to find a way between them. But only difficult, not impossible. Dorothea didn’t doubt that he would find some way to try.
Dorothea stepped back as her cousin approached the shooting line, thinking through his options. She watched his form with the critical eye of a teacher, looking to determine just how well he had learned. He was much slower than she, but his posture was correct and his aim true. Though she didn’t much care about the competition, she felt a small burst of satisfaction when his arrow failed to reach the target. Only for a moment, however. His one shot already proved to her that he was more than competent.
His second shot was more deliberate, missing the target, but giving himself an open space to the center. Dorothea raised her brows slightly as she watched, impressed by his strategic thinking. Of course, that was his real strength here. It wasn’t his skill with the weapon, but his ability to think his way around a seemingly impossible situation. Dorothea had played this game more than once and more than once did her opponents fail to win. None of them had thought this through the way that Vangelis was doing. She found her respect for the man growing and selfishly wondering what she could learn from him.
Now that there was an opening, the third shot was not impossible, though it would be difficult. To Dorothea, the time that passed between the shots seemed to take forever. Yet, as a teacher she was patient. And as a competitor, she willed herself to be too. Finally, Vangelis released his last shot and Dorothea genuinely smiled, pleased with his skill. He had beaten her to the center. With one arrow.
She shook her head in amusement as he turned, asking her how they were to score again. “Well done, cousin,” she congratulated him. “I have never seen someone attempt to outthink that arrangement before. Most simply accept that they will not reach center.”
She set her bow down and gestured for him to join her in retrieving the arrows. “You have made it to the center,” she said, pulling their arrows out after they both had had a look. “Which is ten points. My arrows are also in the center ring, which is the same score, multiplied by each arrow. Speed is also a factor, but we shall discount that in this first round as there is no tie.”
Despite everything, he really had managed to impress her. And he was not yet gloating about it, which Dorothea liked. “You think around the problem. Most do not do that—I am impressed. Who taught you such strategy?” It was a rare compliment to give to a man not part of her immediate family. Vangelis might not know that, but this was akin to high praise coming from Dorothea.
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While Dorothea was confident in her skills, she knew not to completely discount her cousin. He had the reputation as a warrior and she was sure that he had taken his time to hone various crafts. In fact, she would have been rather disappointed if this was a dull showing on his behalf. She expected to be challenged. Also, this was what all men thought when they competed against her—that they were going to be supremely challenging. Now, her reputation was well known throughout most of Taengea and it was rare for her to come across anyone who felt that way. Still, there was the rare occasion and Dorothea remembered the feeling well. Not to say that she thought that Vangelis underestimated her. In fact, he probably did not as he had come all this way so that his sister could study with her. Still, he had not yet seen her shoot.
The look upon his face when Dorothea turned around was all she needed to see. It spoke nothing about his own skills, but volumes about hers. She only smiled at his comment, even chuckling slightly when he admitted to being wrong about playing the gentleman. She knew that her arrows marked dead center and it would be difficult for him to find a way between them. But only difficult, not impossible. Dorothea didn’t doubt that he would find some way to try.
Dorothea stepped back as her cousin approached the shooting line, thinking through his options. She watched his form with the critical eye of a teacher, looking to determine just how well he had learned. He was much slower than she, but his posture was correct and his aim true. Though she didn’t much care about the competition, she felt a small burst of satisfaction when his arrow failed to reach the target. Only for a moment, however. His one shot already proved to her that he was more than competent.
His second shot was more deliberate, missing the target, but giving himself an open space to the center. Dorothea raised her brows slightly as she watched, impressed by his strategic thinking. Of course, that was his real strength here. It wasn’t his skill with the weapon, but his ability to think his way around a seemingly impossible situation. Dorothea had played this game more than once and more than once did her opponents fail to win. None of them had thought this through the way that Vangelis was doing. She found her respect for the man growing and selfishly wondering what she could learn from him.
Now that there was an opening, the third shot was not impossible, though it would be difficult. To Dorothea, the time that passed between the shots seemed to take forever. Yet, as a teacher she was patient. And as a competitor, she willed herself to be too. Finally, Vangelis released his last shot and Dorothea genuinely smiled, pleased with his skill. He had beaten her to the center. With one arrow.
She shook her head in amusement as he turned, asking her how they were to score again. “Well done, cousin,” she congratulated him. “I have never seen someone attempt to outthink that arrangement before. Most simply accept that they will not reach center.”
She set her bow down and gestured for him to join her in retrieving the arrows. “You have made it to the center,” she said, pulling their arrows out after they both had had a look. “Which is ten points. My arrows are also in the center ring, which is the same score, multiplied by each arrow. Speed is also a factor, but we shall discount that in this first round as there is no tie.”
Despite everything, he really had managed to impress her. And he was not yet gloating about it, which Dorothea liked. “You think around the problem. Most do not do that—I am impressed. Who taught you such strategy?” It was a rare compliment to give to a man not part of her immediate family. Vangelis might not know that, but this was akin to high praise coming from Dorothea.
While Dorothea was confident in her skills, she knew not to completely discount her cousin. He had the reputation as a warrior and she was sure that he had taken his time to hone various crafts. In fact, she would have been rather disappointed if this was a dull showing on his behalf. She expected to be challenged. Also, this was what all men thought when they competed against her—that they were going to be supremely challenging. Now, her reputation was well known throughout most of Taengea and it was rare for her to come across anyone who felt that way. Still, there was the rare occasion and Dorothea remembered the feeling well. Not to say that she thought that Vangelis underestimated her. In fact, he probably did not as he had come all this way so that his sister could study with her. Still, he had not yet seen her shoot.
The look upon his face when Dorothea turned around was all she needed to see. It spoke nothing about his own skills, but volumes about hers. She only smiled at his comment, even chuckling slightly when he admitted to being wrong about playing the gentleman. She knew that her arrows marked dead center and it would be difficult for him to find a way between them. But only difficult, not impossible. Dorothea didn’t doubt that he would find some way to try.
Dorothea stepped back as her cousin approached the shooting line, thinking through his options. She watched his form with the critical eye of a teacher, looking to determine just how well he had learned. He was much slower than she, but his posture was correct and his aim true. Though she didn’t much care about the competition, she felt a small burst of satisfaction when his arrow failed to reach the target. Only for a moment, however. His one shot already proved to her that he was more than competent.
His second shot was more deliberate, missing the target, but giving himself an open space to the center. Dorothea raised her brows slightly as she watched, impressed by his strategic thinking. Of course, that was his real strength here. It wasn’t his skill with the weapon, but his ability to think his way around a seemingly impossible situation. Dorothea had played this game more than once and more than once did her opponents fail to win. None of them had thought this through the way that Vangelis was doing. She found her respect for the man growing and selfishly wondering what she could learn from him.
Now that there was an opening, the third shot was not impossible, though it would be difficult. To Dorothea, the time that passed between the shots seemed to take forever. Yet, as a teacher she was patient. And as a competitor, she willed herself to be too. Finally, Vangelis released his last shot and Dorothea genuinely smiled, pleased with his skill. He had beaten her to the center. With one arrow.
She shook her head in amusement as he turned, asking her how they were to score again. “Well done, cousin,” she congratulated him. “I have never seen someone attempt to outthink that arrangement before. Most simply accept that they will not reach center.”
She set her bow down and gestured for him to join her in retrieving the arrows. “You have made it to the center,” she said, pulling their arrows out after they both had had a look. “Which is ten points. My arrows are also in the center ring, which is the same score, multiplied by each arrow. Speed is also a factor, but we shall discount that in this first round as there is no tie.”
Despite everything, he really had managed to impress her. And he was not yet gloating about it, which Dorothea liked. “You think around the problem. Most do not do that—I am impressed. Who taught you such strategy?” It was a rare compliment to give to a man not part of her immediate family. Vangelis might not know that, but this was akin to high praise coming from Dorothea.
Vangelis was fully aware of Dorothea's skill. He wouldn't have sailed for two weeks with his sister in tow for her to learn from someone of equal or lesser skill than himself or his brothers. She could learn from them just fine and had no need to take lessons with another - even a cousin - with a household of skilled warriors at her beck and call. As such, he was not at all underestimating of the skill he was matched up against in this particular contest.
He was equally, however, not demeaning of his own talents. Whilst the bow was not his preferred method of fighting and he would rather turn to his swords if given the choice, his level of training and royal tutorship did not leave room for error or for being second best. Yet, before Dorothea, it was likely that that was exactly what he was about to become.
Pleased that his efforts had not been received with a defensiveness that many masters of craft experienced when challenged, Vangelis smiled when Dorothea took his rhetorical question seriously and graded the two of them. He knew that she had won the round from the moment her first arrow had landed. With a skill of hers, she had clearly had a plan and he had been able to anticipate it as soon as that first shaft had struck the target not dead-centre. She had set him up to be unable to win from the first. Yet, he took encouragement that he had reached closer to the central point than she - hitting the target in the forbidden area. It went some way to relieving his own ego. Regardless of the loss.
When Dorothea complimented him upon his logic, Vangelis glanced her way. How was it exactly that he had learnt such a strategy? He could argue that it came from his father, that his military commanders helped to hone his skills... that the ancestors who had left notes on their more successful campaigns had been his teachers in some way or form. But such things were all individual elements of a whole.
"War." He stated. The single word was spoken with determination but not arrogance. "War was my teacher." He offered a half shrug as if such a thing was no big deal. He spoke, his eyes on the target rather than his companion as he considered his words carefully. "Campaigns and plans do not always work as arranged and an enemy can surprise you. Thinking around a situation is the purpose of a leader." He gave that half shrug again.
"Sometimes the choices you make as a General are outside of the box or unpopular until proven successful."
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Vangelis was fully aware of Dorothea's skill. He wouldn't have sailed for two weeks with his sister in tow for her to learn from someone of equal or lesser skill than himself or his brothers. She could learn from them just fine and had no need to take lessons with another - even a cousin - with a household of skilled warriors at her beck and call. As such, he was not at all underestimating of the skill he was matched up against in this particular contest.
He was equally, however, not demeaning of his own talents. Whilst the bow was not his preferred method of fighting and he would rather turn to his swords if given the choice, his level of training and royal tutorship did not leave room for error or for being second best. Yet, before Dorothea, it was likely that that was exactly what he was about to become.
Pleased that his efforts had not been received with a defensiveness that many masters of craft experienced when challenged, Vangelis smiled when Dorothea took his rhetorical question seriously and graded the two of them. He knew that she had won the round from the moment her first arrow had landed. With a skill of hers, she had clearly had a plan and he had been able to anticipate it as soon as that first shaft had struck the target not dead-centre. She had set him up to be unable to win from the first. Yet, he took encouragement that he had reached closer to the central point than she - hitting the target in the forbidden area. It went some way to relieving his own ego. Regardless of the loss.
When Dorothea complimented him upon his logic, Vangelis glanced her way. How was it exactly that he had learnt such a strategy? He could argue that it came from his father, that his military commanders helped to hone his skills... that the ancestors who had left notes on their more successful campaigns had been his teachers in some way or form. But such things were all individual elements of a whole.
"War." He stated. The single word was spoken with determination but not arrogance. "War was my teacher." He offered a half shrug as if such a thing was no big deal. He spoke, his eyes on the target rather than his companion as he considered his words carefully. "Campaigns and plans do not always work as arranged and an enemy can surprise you. Thinking around a situation is the purpose of a leader." He gave that half shrug again.
"Sometimes the choices you make as a General are outside of the box or unpopular until proven successful."
Vangelis was fully aware of Dorothea's skill. He wouldn't have sailed for two weeks with his sister in tow for her to learn from someone of equal or lesser skill than himself or his brothers. She could learn from them just fine and had no need to take lessons with another - even a cousin - with a household of skilled warriors at her beck and call. As such, he was not at all underestimating of the skill he was matched up against in this particular contest.
He was equally, however, not demeaning of his own talents. Whilst the bow was not his preferred method of fighting and he would rather turn to his swords if given the choice, his level of training and royal tutorship did not leave room for error or for being second best. Yet, before Dorothea, it was likely that that was exactly what he was about to become.
Pleased that his efforts had not been received with a defensiveness that many masters of craft experienced when challenged, Vangelis smiled when Dorothea took his rhetorical question seriously and graded the two of them. He knew that she had won the round from the moment her first arrow had landed. With a skill of hers, she had clearly had a plan and he had been able to anticipate it as soon as that first shaft had struck the target not dead-centre. She had set him up to be unable to win from the first. Yet, he took encouragement that he had reached closer to the central point than she - hitting the target in the forbidden area. It went some way to relieving his own ego. Regardless of the loss.
When Dorothea complimented him upon his logic, Vangelis glanced her way. How was it exactly that he had learnt such a strategy? He could argue that it came from his father, that his military commanders helped to hone his skills... that the ancestors who had left notes on their more successful campaigns had been his teachers in some way or form. But such things were all individual elements of a whole.
"War." He stated. The single word was spoken with determination but not arrogance. "War was my teacher." He offered a half shrug as if such a thing was no big deal. He spoke, his eyes on the target rather than his companion as he considered his words carefully. "Campaigns and plans do not always work as arranged and an enemy can surprise you. Thinking around a situation is the purpose of a leader." He gave that half shrug again.
"Sometimes the choices you make as a General are outside of the box or unpopular until proven successful."