Stubborn problems always require a shift in paradigm.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos was nothing if not stubborn, and he refused to let this transformation keep him down. With no specific deadline to look forward to, he felt that he had no choice but to train, until he regained, even in this body, at least a modicum of skill at what he usually did best: fighting. It didn't help that the breeches he'd secured for himself in this form were a lot tighter than anything he was used to, but he was learning to move about in them well enough.

Much more troubling by far was the weight of his broadsword. The Schiavona was much too heavy for his current strength, but it was all he had to practice, and so he found himself outside in the gardens, going through the basic motions of swordfighting as if he were only getting to know it, hoping that repetition would help. But in this body, not only was his sword too heavy, but his balance was off, and even his very style was wrong for someone who could no longer fight like a force of nature.

Fifteen minutes into his exercises already found his oversized shirt sticking to his back with sweat, and after stumbling through yet another move that should've been easy, he pulled off the kerchief he wore over his hair and threw it aside in a show of temper, planting his sword down in the soft damp soil and looking about as frustrated with himself as a not-a-lady Musketeer could get.

Which was, apparently, a lot.

Comments

[armedagainstlove]

Athos is not being overly challenged, but he endeavours to look as though he is, aware that Porthos will not take it well if Athos doesn't at least offer a touch of resistance and show difficulty. Even this, however, cannot do the job. He sighs when Porthos lambasts himself and unclips his sword belt, the musket and pistol going soon after. "You're being too hard on yourself," he counters.

"I'm sure you've still the advantage in hand to hand," he says, bracing himself for what comes next. "Come on, let's try and see."

[praiseandglory]

"That's not funny," Porthos pointedly tells Athos, now very much scowling at him. Of course he wouldn't have the advantage now, in this lighter, weaker body. He wouldn't even know how to start brawling.

But he's not one to back down from a challenge, of course, so he sets the dagger down and unbuckles his scabbard. He's going to find out how to fight in this body if it kills him, although he's still hoping that it won't come to that.

Lighter, weaker body or not, he turns around and charges Athos without an instant's hesitation, hoping to surprise him and manage to throw him to the ground. He knows one thing; he has no chance in a prolonged fight.

[armedagainstlove]

Porthos may not see the truth of the matter, but Athos does not have half as many doubts. He knows all too well what Porthos is capable of, no matter the form. In fact, it begins quickly, given how off guard Athos has been when Porthos comes charging at him, stumbling back and falling to the ground hard, wincing as he shifts.

"You see?" True, that had mainly been surprise, but it had still caught him off his guard.

[praiseandglory]

"That was you being terrible," Porthos points out gruffly, although he can't deny the satisfaction at having been able to put Athos down, no matter the reason.

He holds a (bare) hand out to help Athos back to his feet. He half expects his friend to get him back by using that to try and unbalance him, though, mostly because it's what he would do, so he's ready for that.

[armedagainstlove]

"I've never been skilled with hand to hand," Athos says truthfully, brushing the dust from his arse as he sits up, reaching out to take Porthos' hand to help himself back to his feet. He manages to get steady again, giving Porthos an expectant look. "You can show me again, if that's what you'd like."

[praiseandglory]

Holding Athos's gloved hands makes Porthos wish he could be wearing, for a fleeting second. It's not the kind of thought worth lingering on, but it's one more reason to hate the change that has come over him. He isn't sure he could show Athos again, so he huffs out a gruff little sigh, then offers an alternative that is certain to meet Athos's approval. "Or we could just drink," with a sweep of his hand indicating the bottle of wine he's left leaning against one of the nearby trees.

The water might be fine here, but he still doesn't like its taste, if it can be called a taste.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos raises his brow, approving of course of the suggestion though unsure where it has come from. Porthos is usually always so quick to wish to fight, which means that whatever is plaguing him about this odd change must run deeper than previously thought. He knows that no pity should be shown, but he does feel wary about stopping before Porthos feels better. "How long have you been like this, now?"

[praiseandglory]

Porthos definitely needs a drink to answer that question, so he's heading for the bottle as he tells Athos, very definitely, "Too long." He pulls the cork out and takes a drink, then holds it out to his friend. "Two weeks." Two very long weeks, if you ask him.

[armedagainstlove]

That is a very long time and he thinks he recalls d'Artagnan being in a similar position. He welcome the drink, though he only takes a small sip, given that he doesn't want to steal it all from Porthos, who seems to need it much more than he. "Are you concerned such a thing might become permanent?" Or, more frighteningly, that he, like d'Artagnan, would begin to think it normal.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos scowls at Athos as if he'd just insulted his mother. "No." Which, of course, means that he isn't concerned but in proper denial of the possibility. He's got to turn back eventually; he can't wrap his mind around being this way forever.

[armedagainstlove]

Reacting with little more than a passive look, Athos shrugs. If he were in the same position, he would have to think about what might happen if it were permanent, but it seems that Porthos doesn't even want to consider it. "I'm sure you're right," he offers, as if a balm. "I'm sure you'll be back to normal soon."

[praiseandglory]

"You're bloody right I will," Porthos mutters under his breath, and gets the bottle back from Porthos to take another drink. The day he turns back can't come soon enough.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos is having a hard time subduing his amusement for Porthos' terrible reaction to the plight, though he knows better than to let any of it show. "And you've not thought to explore your new condition?" he wonders, curious as to Porthos' whims. "I imagine in a similar situation, Aramis would see fit to."

And Athos is often quick to associate bad ideas between the both of them.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos shoots him a look, almost amused by the question. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?" Because that's all well and good (really, really good, as a matter of fact, once you get the hang of it), but it doesn't exactly help in the grand scheme of things.

[armedagainstlove]

Porthos seems amused by Athos' struggles to remark on what he would assume has already happened. "You cannot fault me for asking," he notes wryly. "I feel that you would torture me with similar questions, should our positions be reversed."

[praiseandglory]

"Oh, Aramis and I would team up on you," Porthos replies without missing a beat. He takes another drink, and holds the bottle out to his friend. All sign of amusement is gone as he adds, simply, "That doesn't help with anything, though, does it."

[armedagainstlove]

Athos is well aware that they would be relentless and give him no quarry. Perhaps it's for that reason that Athos doesn't feel too guilty for pressing the issue. "No, I don't think help would be the reason." He flushes, but only in the tips of his ears. "Perhaps I assumed you would wish to cause trouble, looking like that."

It is more idiotic the more he speaks, but Athos fears it is because he knows his friends to be fearless and adventurous. Why would they not? Had Athos not done the same, in Las Vegas?

[praiseandglory]

Porthos suddenly isn't sure that they are talking about the same thing after all, at least, not exactly. Well, not by a long mile, actually, if he understands him correctly this time. Better make certain. "What kind of trouble?" he asks, frowning again, because they're back on territory that makes him deeply uneasy, and he wishes he hadn't given the bottle to Athos now.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos lets out a soft huff, the sound of a man who cannot believe he is having the sort of conversation that he is. He rubs at his face and takes the bottle deep for a long drink. "Must I specify? I have been to many doors and already told you of many of them. If I'm suddenly the one misbehaving the most, I will have to worry for the world."

[praiseandglory]

That clears absolutely nothing up, but Porthos doesn't mind letting it go. "The world might come to an end. I can't exactly misbehave like this," not when he can hardly fight, "and Aramis has developed a fear of doors." He could still misbehave in the hotel, of course, but the minute Porthos is back to his regular self, he intends to start showing his friend the myriad possibilities the doors offer. "I suppose the fate of the world rests on d'Artagnan's shoulders. Is he still changed?"

[armedagainstlove]

Well, now, Athos thinks that he could, but if he has yet to think of any ideas on his own, then he is not about to help him by providing them. And so, he keeps quiet then on many of the notions that pop into his head. "The last I saw him, he was still changed. He seems to have the ill luck to bear such changes for longer than most."

[praiseandglory]

"Probably to counter balance the good luck of managing to evade me for so long," Porthos remarks, because he still intends to make d'Artagnan pay for this. He hasn't tried to find the young man as hard as he could have, but that's only because Porthos would rather make him pay once he has shifted back, once he knows for certain that, yes, this was only temporary. He doesn't want to make d'Artagnan pay for the fears he barely acknowledges, because that way lies madness.

[armedagainstlove]

"He is small and fits into tiny nooks," Athos deadpans, given that Porthos is a hard man (or woman, in this case) to avoid. "He did this to you?" he does ask, given that the notion seems strange and mad. After all, he does not see how d'Artagnan could willingly have brought this on.

[praiseandglory]

"I laughed when he told me of his time as a woman," Porthos replies, a little grudgingly. He might have deserved this a little, but nothing that would stretch for so long.