| Details for Let's Call It A Draw |
| Summary: | Grayson and Roe have a bit of spell practice.. with interesting results. |
| Date: | May 2nd, 1941 |
| Location: | Training Room, Ministry of Magic |
| Related: | Preparation, Preparation and Umm |
| Characters |
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The Practice Room is, luckily, rather empty. Grayson leads the way in and immediately shrugs out of his robes and his suit-coat. He pauses to undo a pair of onyx cuff-links and slide them into a pocket, then requisitions a practice dummy to hold his coat. His wand, when he draws it out, looks to be almost fourteen inches of polished oak. Maneuvering into the open square, he says, jovially, "So how shall we work it, then?"
Despite her own brand of almost bravado, Roe does look a little lost as she trails into the room after the brisk man, padding along in her soft suede brogues. "Well, which would you prefer, as the more experienced of us? To put me through my paces or to take me one on one..?" Yes, the enquiry is made in complete innocence, any possible entendres completely missed. Quite plainly she thinks the former is the more appealing.. and therefore likely the option he'll ignore. So says the way her green eyes follow Grayson a touch warily. Still, she draws her wand and toys with it fondly as she draws to a halt - a pristine specimen of golden pear wood. There's no robes or jacket to discard.. she's only in a skirt and blouse, after all. Not exactly the most rough and ready opponent!
Grayson doesn't answer immediately. By the way his eyes flicker wider and a bit of a smile teases around the corner of his lips, he is trying to select an option from the many and varied forms of teasing available to him. "I think I'd quite like taking you on one-on-one," he finally says. "Let's see who shall wind up on top, shall we?"
He draws his wand up to a guard position, wrist high, the oaken tip pointed toward Rowena. Mischief alights in his gaze. "Is it fair enough to say that we'll begin when both declare themselves fully ready to engage with one another?"
"However you like." Yep, she's still blissfully ignorant. Mirroring Gray's stance, though with a more delicate grip upon her wand and a far less intimidating posture by the very nature of her looks, Roe offers him a faint smile, only slightly bemused by his mischievous expressions. "It's not a real duel, after all.." Huffing a wayward strand of chestnut hair out of her face, the young lady then inclines her head gently. "Ready when you are, Mister Loring."
No pressure. No, no. None whatsoever.
It's a good thing he can't tell her heart is thudding against her ribs at a rather alarming pace. He'd no doubt make fun of her for it!
"Well, then. Let's —" And with a cheap trick, Grayson doesn't even finish his sentence. He simply flicks his wand to the side, just off of Rowena's shoulder, and says in the same breath, "Oppugno." He's grinning even more mischievously as his jacket, so neatly hung, lifts off the dummy and comes flying at Rowena's back, trying to drape itself over her head and to wrap its well-tailored sleeves around her arms in a woolen bear-hug.
In all fairness, Roe is quick - she just doesn't anticipate well enough! "Prote-.." The shield she had been thinking of never actually comes to fruition, as there's suddenly sleeves flapping about her person. "Oh, for goodness.. Gray." She wrestles with the garment indignantly, a touch tousled and pink of cheek when she manages to emerge, the fingers of one hand hooked threateningly into the breast pocket of the finely-tailored coat and a brow arching in warning. One good yank and bye bye… his choice. She squints, wrinkling her nose as the fabric continues to flap at her.
"Not the pocket! Rowena!" The protest is a yelp, but Grayson is still grinning hugely as he sidesteps to one side and, quite coolly, announces "Expelliarmus!" His wand is leveled at Rowena, and there is a spark of mischief in his gaze as he takes advantage of the woman's entangled state.
Oh good, at least she's threatening to hit him where it hurts. Right in the couture. And, despite the bloody jacket desperately seeking attention from her, Roe manages to extricate her wand-arm and level it upon Gray. "Flipendo!"
It is imperative that Grayson remove that hand from his jacket. But first, he really must stop her before she can cast any more nasty spells at him. And he was quicker on the cast once again — even as Roe levels her wand at him and begins to cast, Grayson's own spell catches her on the wrist, yanking the beautiful pearwood into the air and sending it spinning several feet away.
How typical that the jackot stop being such a pestilence in the same moment her wand is snatched from her grasp. A lesser person would chuck the garment down and stamp on it. A more generous person wouldn't even have such a thought occur to them, of course. Flinging the garment back haphazardly toward the dummy it had been draped upon previously, she simultaneously places herself behind the figure, drawing a breath and flitting her gaze about until it alights upon her wand. Good, not too far. Or, you know.. just far enough for some other spell to thwack her in the backside. Only one way to find out!
"Come out.. Come out.. wherever y'are.." As the duel continues on, Grayson slips more and more into his Cockney accent. He sidles to one side, attempting to get a bead on Roe. "Ah, there's my lovely. And I have you right..where..I.." And then the teasing is over, again using the trick of casting in the middle of a sentence. "Incarcerous!" Thick ropes whip out oh his wand, spinning toward Roe's backside, just as she had feared.
What she's lacking thus far in flair, Roe more than makes up for in sheer desperation. Hurling herself away from the mannequin, this time actually accurately guessing when the man's about to cast, the redhead makes a grab for her wand, skidding slightly as she draws upright and to a halt again. Facing him, wand raised and a few errant locks straying across her features, it seems she's not giving up quite yet.. despite having narrowly avoided her second entanglement of the day.
Not giving Gray the chance this time to distract her, there's a deft flick of wrist from the redhead.. and a decidedly sly use of a generally amusing little charm. "Mimble Wimble!" Oh, it might sound funny. But good luck spouting any overly complex phrases now.
And Grayson, over-confident, walks right into the flying charm. His face changes, first in dismay, and then in amused approval. "Obschuro!" His spell comes out slightly slurred, but it still works, conjuring a blindfold from thin air. And he uses it to his advantage, trying to rush behind Roe.
There's something extremely disconcerting about finding oneself suddenly without sight. Only a splitsecond after a glimmer of pride in return to that approving look from the cocksure Cockney, the world goes dark and Roe's smile fades abruptly. For a moment, she goes instinctively perfectly still.. and it's perhaps that that gives her the sensation of a presence behind her. Whirling in that direction, wand still aloft and blood pounding in her ears, she finds her gaze upon Grayson the instant her vision clears. "Expelliarmus!" The motion is swift, but precise.
Grayson has been retreating still further, raising his wand to begin to cast. "Prothe—" He doesn't get the rest of the jumbled spell out at all, his wand going flying. The confident wizard staggers a few steps backward, windmilling his arms to get his balance. "Buther. Buther, buther." And then he's moving in the direction of his wand, keeping his eyes cautiously on Rowena, sidestepping all the while.
His eyes narrowed briefly, Grayson glances toward where his wand lies. Too far. He has no chance of making it before Rowena can cast again, perhaps even twice. And then, suddenly, a grin crosses his face - twisted upward even further with the scar on his lip. He feints toward the wand, then dashes directly at Rowena. One arm flashes out to wrap around her waist and yank her toward him, while the other reaches for her wand-wrist to try and point it firmly upward.
Oh, and she had so been looking forward to knocking him across the chamber.. "Flipend-oof!" Caught entirely off-guard by such unseemly antics, Roe is momentarily dumbfounded as to what's happening. Then he reaches for her wand. "Well.. that's hardly fair, Mister Loring.." she grits out, wriggling and standing on tiptoe to try and keep some semblance of movement in her wrist, trying to angle it down toward her opponent even as he tries to keep it ceilingward. "What's next, hair pulling?"
Finally coming out of the effects of the clever tongue-tying spell, Grayson leers down at Rowena, keeping his arms tightly in place, pressing himself against her for a moment as he speaks. But his voice, despite his demeanor, is perfectly serious. "Rowena, fights are not fair. Fights are to win or lose." His arm continues to struggle to keep hers pinned. "I'd pull hair. I'd kick. I'd bite. Or I'd cast spells. When your opponent has you beaten, Rowena, change the paradigm."
"You very much deserve a good shinkicking!" Looking the very picture of helpless indignance as she fights to keep control of her wand (rather futilely really, given his grasp), Roe still doesn't look the sort to bite. Or even protest very harshly at such an unfair victory, when she was actually doing rather well. So she thought, anyway. Slowing her attempts to free herself, grudgingly recognising that Gray has the upper hand, she regards his features in proximity, a down-up flit of ebon lashes. "..so who wins..?" The question is decidedly soft-spoken, even by her standards.
"I rather think I do," says Grayson. But his voice is a little husky, a little lower-pitched than usual. He is not, however, quite foolish enough to release that wand-wrist as he lowers his head. "And I'm of a mind to claim my prize." He watches her for a moment, hazel eyes locked onto emerald once, then dives forward in an attempt to capture her lips with his own. Perhaps this might induce the young woman into biting, where other provocations did not.
Well.. that escalated quickly. She's clearly better at this than she thought! A soft sound of surprise is exhaled as Gray's lips descend upon her own and for a moment the young woman freezes in place. And then, rather than the shinkicking she had promised or the biting he might anticipate.. Roe simply sinks into the embrace, her light weight settling against the man's chest. Alright, so it wasn't exactly the plan.. but it'll do. Her free hand glides to a gentle cup at the side of his throat, fingertips unthinkingly tracing the scarred flesh and she does, having gathered her wits, return the pressure of the kiss. Perhaps that, if anything, will catch him off guard? Or, more likely, he's arrogant enough to be completely unsurprised by the swooning creature in his arms.
And already, she knows him so well. As Rowena eases herself into the kiss, Grayson's head turns slightly into her hand, pressing his neck against her, like a cat seeking further attentions on its own terms. And he lowers her wand-hand, slowly, still keeping a looser and looser grasp on it until it's at their sides. And it's really a token grasp, at this point. His other hand loosens as well until it's more of an embrace than a grasp. Perhaps he's arrogant, or perhaps he's been deceived.
Perhaps both. That's not to say she wasn't actually swooning, of course. Just that.. well, she's a good student. Change the paradigm? Tracing her thumb along his cheekbone as Gray leans into her touch, he can sense rather than see the smile curving her lips, before she pulls away just a fraction; uttering his name like a prayer on the softest of breaths. "Grayson…"
It would have been such a tender moment. If it weren't abruptly cut short by the distinctive press of a wand-tip at the underside of his jaw, beneath the chin. Shoving herself back from the solid warmth of his form, she even has the moxie to flash him a dazzling smile. And then.. "FLIPENDO!"
There's just a moment before the spell lands. A moment where his eyes widen — not with shock, not with anger, but with surprised approval. Amusement, even. And then they widen even further with the impact of the spell. Grayson doesn't just stagger backward; he goes flying. Arms fly forward, legs wobbling in the air, he lets out a great 'OOMPH!' And then he strikes, landing on his right shoulder and rolling over until he's lying on his belly, a hand beneath him. "Oh.. Shit. Well.." a cough. "Well-played, you."
"Are you alright..?!" There's genuine concern in Roe's sweet tone as he lands so hard, and her wand falters from it's delicate hold. Still, she does permit herself a shaky laugh as he speaks up, plainly at least still breathing. "I'm sorry. But you did say.. erm.. that is.. how dare you be so presumptuous! Yes. Serves you right!" Despite the attempt at severity, she starts toward the felled dragonologist, clearly intending to offer him a hand up.
Grayson manages to draw himself up onto a knee, supporting himself on one hand, his back toward Rowena. His head comes up slightly as he wheezes. "Yes, well. I rather thought you'd be a good kisser. I was quite right, you know." He falls silent for several beats, and then a few more. Letting Rowena get closer. Until, when she's only a few feet away, he rolls over onto his stomach and thrusts his wand out toward her. Apparently, he landed near enough to it to have concealed it beneath himself. "Carpe retractum!" A rope of light flies from the tip of his wand, encircling itself and creating a lasso which lands neatly around Rowena's arms. Grasping his wand in both hands, Grayson yanks.
"Well, if you will insist on fighting so unfairly.. what else am I supposed to do?" A touch flustered by the compliment, rosy warmth rising to her cheeks, Roe looses a sound that's half exasperation and half amusement, not quite sure how to take it. Fortunately, perhaps, there's little time to ponder over such matters. Completely and utterly distracted, either by his words or the memory of a moment ago, the redhead has lowered her guard entirely on approach. The 'lasso' settles about her unimpeded and that forceful heave forward has her careering toward Gray, stumbling off-balance with an "Oh!" of despairing surprise. Well, it won't be the first time she's fallen on her face in front of him.
As the young woman comes diving toward him, utterly out of control, Grayson drops his wand and opens his arms in an attempt to catch her and hold her against some harsher impact. But his gallant notion was a moment too late. His eyes widening, he can't quite grab Rowena in time. She flies past his encircling arms to come crashing into him, throwing the dragonologist headlong into the ground with Rowena sprawled atop him, the pair lying in an undignified heap. And Grayson begins to laugh, raucously. "Alright.." he drawls. "We'll call it a draw."
With barely time for an "Agghhh!" as the sensation of falling assails her, Roe lands atop the man, thankfully lightweight. Without arms or elbows to brace herself, she ends up with her cheek against his chest and legs tangled, a position from which she doesn't immediately attempt to move, instead heaving a deep sigh. "So…" she begins, after a few beats, in the wake of Gray's thrumming laughter, "..do you think we'll survive in the wild..?" Only then does she succumb to a bout of helpless giggling.
Pride of the RCMC, this pair.