07.08.3013: Launching Bolts
Summary: Lionel endures an archery lesson from Jeremy.
Date: 8 July 2013
Related: None
Lionel Jeremy 


Meadow in the Mountain Pass, The Spine
High up in the mountains, the air gets thin and the views get spectacular. The forested plains stretch out below like the Gods' own carpet, and a narrow track winds its way along the shoulder of the mountain toward the entrance to Khar-Mordune. These gates are heavy, hewn from solid stone and inlaid with electrofilaments mimicking arcane runes. That track may not really be necessary for moving masses of people or materiel down into Khar-Mordune, but it is there for those who prefer to take the long way around. One side of the path falls away precipitously to a narrow canyon far below, while the other rises sharply up the face of the mountain. The path winds behind a waterfall just out of sight of the gates, and then down toward the forest far below.
July 8, 3013

A thunderstorm has just rolled past over the mountain meadow where the Keatses have set up their campsite. It recedes with low growls and luminous scars of lightning, rolling out toward the Arborenin Woods to the east. Lionel peeks his head out of the circular mouth of their tent, squinting at the offending skies just as the sun starts to slowly peek through the thinning clouds. He glances over his shoulder back into the tent. "Alright, we're in the clear." Then he starts to pull himself up and out onto the wet grass and wildflowers, rubbing both hands back across his short, soft hair.

Jeremy reaches forward to give Lionel a shove on the bum, "Then get out there." Laughter fills his words as he reaches up to get the pair of crossbows hanging from the ceiling of the tent, handing them out one after the other, "You know that in the real world, we would still have to shoot even in the rain." He tumbles out of the tent after his husband, handing over a crossbow and a quiver of bolts, "Not that I mind missing the rain though."

Lionel oofs at the shove, stumbling out of the tent the rest of the way. He starts to laugh, his feet sliding across the wet grass just a little bit until he gets his bearings once more. He grunts a bit, though his eyes dance with mirth and earnest good-naturedness. He stretches his arms above his head, fingers latched together as he rolls his shoulders forward a bit. There is a faint, satisfying crack, and then he huffs out a sigh before he looks over to Jeremy. "Alright… remind me what this thing is again?" He asks, holding out a hand to accept one of the crossbows.

"It's the shoots-pointy-sticks-machine." Jeremy slings the quiver under one arm, tucking his own crossbow under one arm and pulling the magazine lock open to start feeding bolts into the crossbow, "And I know that you can't hit anything, so we'll start close. You remembered how I taught you had to feed it in, right?" He laughs softly, waggling his eyebrows.

"That's a rather long name," Lionel points out dryly as he looks over the weapon idly. "And rather unimpressive." Then he rolls his shoulders back a bit before he starts to chuckle. "I remember how to feed it, alright." He casts a heated smile toward Jeremy before he starts to load the crossbow. He looks to be competent at that at least.

Jeremy shakes his head at the dry note, setting the quiver back into the tent and then locking the crossbow shut and slinging it behind his back. "You've seen one of these go through a breastplate end for end, right?" His eyes go white for a moment, spectral leaves and branches spreading out about him, waving as if in a wind. He reaches out one hand, lifting up a haybale from under its tarp covering and slumping it down against a treetrunk. "First tip, remember to check out your target's backside." One pure-white eye closes in a wink, and he adds, "Make sure there isn't anything vulnerable down-range."

The dance of leaves and branches does send Lionel back a step as if to give his husband some space to tap into those druidic abilities. He glances toward the haybale, watching with raised brows as it is lifted and slumped and then he starts to grin. He does start to chuckle at the flirtation, stepping and leaning back to admire Jeremy's backend before he straigthens once more. "Check." Then he offers him a wry smile before he raises up the crossbow, looking down the length of meadowlands toward the target. "No unsuspecting bunnies, check."

Jeremy tilts his head slightly as Lionel steps back, breathing out as the dance of foliage fades into the ether once more, "Are you worried that I'm going to swat your ass, Lie?" The ranger turns to allow his husband to check him out, then turns back, "Snug the butt into your shoulder…" Walking around to face the other man, he reaches out to touch the blunt end of the crossbow, "That's the butt I'm talking about, by the way. Not mine."

"The thought crossed my mind, but I wouldn't call it a worry," Lionel points out, his mouth cracking with a broad and boyish grin that gently warms his blue eyes. Though at the suggestion of snugging a butt into his shoulder, his expression turns almost impish. He opens his mouth to say something completely filthy and absolutely unrelated to the archery lesson, but is promptly silenced by Jeremy's further instruction. He grunts good-naturedly before he snugs the crossbow's butt into his shoulder. "Check."

Jeremy shakes his head, "Don't worry, you can snug my butt into your shoulder later." Patting Lionel's shoulder as he walks around behind his husband again, he boots the inside of the other man's feet, "Spread your legs a little. About shoulder width apart. Don't lock your knees." And Jere bends his knees to bump Lionel in the back of his knee lightly, "You have to keep yourself loose and steady."

Lionel accepts the direction easily — and he even behaves himself. He widens his stance, keeping his knees loose and easy without too much bend. He ducks his head a little bit, looking down the length of the body toward the haybale. He is doing so well, and then he starts to grin. "I've heard these instructions before," he murmurs as he glances over his shoulder toward Jeremy.

Jeremy pats his partner's ass lightly, a reward for being good so far, "And I'm sure you've given them just as many times. Just don't get caught up in the moment and bend over too far." He leans forward to press a kiss to the back of Lionel's neck, "Square up your feet perpendicular to the target, close one eye, and sight down the body of the crossbow. Line up the front sight between the prongs of the back sight. Breathe out, and squeeze the trigger gently."

Lionel chuckles huskily at the ass pat, shaking his head. "You are distracting," he says firmly to his husband, though the last syllable is slightly hitched by the kiss to the back of his neck. He shudders a bit, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Square up my feet," he mutters as he follows these instructions, and then he closes one eye to look down at the target. He inhales, and when he exhales, he compresses the trigger. The magnetically energized bolt goes flying out toward the haybale, but it misses. Terribly.

Jeremy nods his head, "Yes. But not so distracting as combat." He steps back, watching the shot, then shakes his head, "Your other eye." He steps back, circling around to where Lionel can see him more easily, "What how I do it… and don't just look at my ass." Turning away from his husband, he sets his feet carefully, "Feet, knees, square, check down-range," he raises the crossbow to his shoulder, "Butt to shoulder, close one eye, breathe out, fire." There's a soft thrum, and the bolt goes flying down-range, piercing the haybale and the tree trunk beyond.

Lionel drops the bow with a touch of exasperation, casting a charitable glare at his husband. "I closed the right eye." Then he pauses. "I mean the correct eye." The Valen heeds his warning, earnestly watching Jeremy's frame in order to get a sense of where he might have gone wrong. He does want to learn. Really. He frowns thoughtfully, though his brows do arch a bit at the successful bolt. He grunts. "Show off." Then he shakes his head a bit, reestablishing his stance. Feet, knees, square, check down-range. He breathes out slowly as he closes one eye and compresses the trigger once more. This time the thrum announces the successful strike of bolt to hay, though it does not pierce as deeply as Jeremy's.

Jeremy lowers the crossbow, turning around to watch the whole affair all over again. "Feet, knees, square, check, butt, breath…" And then he goes quiet watching the shot, "There you go. And that's why we aren't trying anything with a bow. Because you can actually learn to use a crossbow in a few days." Letting his own crossbow dangle on its strap, he spreads his hands, "Nice shooting, Arb. How does it feel to put a bold right in the middle of the target?"

Lionel looks up to see his bolt sticking out of the hay, and he actually starts to grin with a hint of satisfaction. "It is the Valen dedication," he says firmly. He flashes his husband a bright grin before he narrows another shot down the target, letting the weapon recharge. Then he lets loose another bolt, but the world is always here to humble poor Lionel. Again, the shot goes wide and ends up piercing the leaves of the tree above rather than the hay and trunk. "Fuck," he grunts.

Jeremy steps up to his husband, patting one stubble-fuzzed cheek, "It's a good thing you're cute." A grin bursts across his lips, a touch more of his backwoods drawl touching his voice, "Because you shoot like shit, Lie." Laughing lightly, he leans in to give the other knight a sharp kiss on the lips, "Keep the fore-sight down a little further. Don't get up too fast, or you won't be able to pierce your target."

Lionel grunts disappointedly at the trajectory of the arrow. "Yeah, well… lets not talk about your lancing skills," he quips back. His jaw sets with a hint of stubborn dedication as he starts to prepare to launch his third bolt — but then he turns a bit at the shadow of Jeremy leaning in toward him. He starts to smile, but it is smothered by the sharp kiss. He stands taller in his stance, reaching up to grasp at the back of Jeremy's head. Then he grins, looking proud and confident once more as he lines up another shot. His smile goes a little lopsided. "Weren't we just talking about getting it off too quick?"

Jeremy straightens away from Lionel, laughing easily, "You should have picked on my riding skills." He watches the flight of the bolt and shakes his head, "Yes, yes we were. And we were remembering back to when we were squires." Of course, he doesn't know anything about whether or not Lionel had any of those problems at that age, but doesn't everyone? "And how bad it is to fire off too quick. Let the breath flow in, let it out, and then fire before you breathe in again."

Lionel is in the company of his husband, so he doesn't necessarily have an issue admitting with a bit of a sheepish smile. "You know… 126 seconds…" He then rolls his shoulders back as he aims up another shot, breathing out a steady exhale. This time he just barely misses the target, kicking some hay into the air as he does. He looks up a bit before he shakes his head with a wry smirk. Then he shakes his head a bit before he unshoulders the crossbow. "Better," he says with a bit of a grimace.

Jeremy arches his eyebrows, "Oooh, a long distance runner." He nods at Lionel's shot, agreeing, "Better." He smiles, "Why don't you run through that quiver, then you can shoot mine for a while," His blue-gray eyes sparkle, and he leans close, whispering, "And then we go find all the bolts that you shot off beyond the target." That should probably have been something a lot sexier, but by his crooked grin, that's part of the reason he finds it funny.

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