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 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.