never_promised | (no subject)

(no subject)

The conversation with Teja has had at least one outcome worth noting: Harry's remembered his fondness for football. He's scrounged up a ball from the gym, and has been kicking it up and down the hallways all day.

Probably making a nuisance of himself, in fact.

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Sure they are! After all, Orsino gets much handsier than that.

"Cannot and would not. I would be thy faithfullest subject."

"O, do not say it! For I have heard so much before--" Bah. All right, he does need to say more of it. "--from a dear friend. Thou wouldst have laughed to see me, Hal o' Eastcheap, in such company, so fitting for any prince or king! A man of good family, good counsel, every grace and honor, perfect in every quality a prince might admire. Grave and learned, attentive to religion, governed by no gross appetites for meat and drink, moved to glory and yet still modest; my very bedfellow, he; and all those perfect qualities were bought by France and turned into naught but a tongue ready for deceit and a hand ready for murder."

Viola starts. "What, murder! In truth?"

"Such was the plot." He glances away down the hall at the neglected football. "Why--is it not what one does with a king? The French here would have it so, they that are so dear to Harry Percy."

...That's a really unattractive sound of self-pity in his voice, isn't it. Ugh. "But here, thou hast promised to mock me, wilt not do thy duty?"

"You see now, sir, why I must be a page and not a fool," she says. "I can find no mirth in death, or the threat thereof. I am sorry for thy false friend."

"--Nay, there is no mirth in it."

A pause, and he touches her shoulder. "But come, shall we play at football, we being alive and being good friends, with no treason over our heads?"

"--I have never played it," she says, which can be taken as agreement. "And much doubt I shall show any native skill."

"Thou wert a very natural at tennis, as I recall! Why, thou didst know on the instant where the ball would be--and didst flee it most nimbly--"

He mimes flinching away from an incoming ball, and laughs. "Thou'lt learn."

She laughs too, and swats at his arm. "Why, for this reason thou need'st fear no treason: I am a very coward, my might cannot be bought and sold for any price."

"O, yes, such a coward! A coward that goes to live with great dragons, and laughs at kings, and goes to strange lands to buy horses. What a coward thou art, Cesario! --Now, let us find that room where we did play at tennis; unless thou dost prefer the snow to play in?"

There's not much snow on the ground at the moment, but--yeah. Snow.

"O, that is no courage," she laughs. "It is no war, no duel, no feat of arms. --but ay, let us keep indoors, if we may."

If we may being the operative phrase: the next door they find opens out onto the grounds. Right, well, must have turned wrong somewhere. Try again.

The next door, and also the next, open again into the brisk January air. "...I have no luck with doors in this place."

Viola makes a face. "Well... it seems the lady of the house would have us venture forth."

She's definitely wishing she'd worn a cloak.

"So it seems." Yeah, Hal is wishing much the same; he tucks his chin into his collar and gives the ball a solid kick out onto the frosty turf. Yay. There's less snow than there was after the first onslaught of magic winter, but it's not gone

"The ground by the stables may be clearer." And rougher, where people exercise their horses, but eh.

Viola bows and says quite formally, "And I shall beat you there, your majesty."

And she takes off. Race?

"Nay, but--!" Yep, his majesty is very apparent as he bounds along after her laughing. It takes about five seconds for him to catch up, and then another second to wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her just off balance. "Nay, but thou hast o'errun our football, thou loon."

Nooo, unfair! There's enough snow to cushion her fall, at least.

"O, dishonorable!" she cries.

He doesn't let her fall! Well--he doesn't mean to, but they do sort of tangle one another up, and as soon as she's on her way down so is he. Floof. "No more dishonorable than thy trick of stealing a start."

"True indeed," she concedes. "We shall be equal in dishonesty, and need demand no satisfaction."

He starts to sit up, but flops back. "Dost thou always settle so easily, demanding no satisfaction?"

Viola has a funny feeling that's a dirty joke she doesn't quite get.

"I prefer to be peaceable," Viola says. "But even a lady hath some honor."

Hm that's weird what gave her that idea.

"And having honor, may demand satisfaction..." This time he manages to sit up, and reaches over to brush some of the snow out of Viola's hair.

"Just so." She squeezes her eyes shut as he brushes the snow away. "Though a lady does not demand satisfaction in the field."

"Not in the field, if she be a lady." Right. He flicks her hair again with a finger, then gathers his feet under himself and stands. "Must I turn back for the football?"

"No, no, 'tis for me to serve, is't not?" She stands up as well and takes a moment to brush herself off.