will_scarlett | More Adventures with Atton

"S'good music. Is musical," Atton says, gravely.

"Aye, should be fun."

"Should be," Atton says, and then stands there awkwardly.

Social interaction that doesn't involve mockery of some sort doesn't come easily to him.

Will walks towards the crowd, all the things they bought are slung over his back in a sort of pack and he grins as some girls smile at them,

"Think that one likes ye."

"They're ... not going to expect anything more than dancing, right? 'Cause, y'know, dancing is fun and good, but I'm taken, and I don't want to let anyone down if they think that the dancing is actually a prelude to something else ..."

"Nay, they willna, just dancin', Atton an can tell 'im ye're already taken an willna e'en ask."

Atton gets patted on the back, Will's trying to be reassuring as one of the women comes closer and says to Atton,

"Ye fought well this day."

"Oh, thanks," awkwardly. He manages a grin, though. "S'was fun."

She takes his hand, "Will ye dance with me?"

"Right. Dance. Yes, sure."

Atton's slowly realising he has no idea how to dance. Not too much of a problem, since he's a fast learner, and his assassin's training means that, despite looking like he should be the most awkward and clumsy man ever, he's actually fairly graceful.

The music isn't too fast and the dance isn't terribly complicated or formal. Also the woman is smiling and moving around and nearer to him,

"I 'ear ye're called Doran."

"Yeah. I'm not from around these parts, I'm just visiting. I didn't catch your name, sorry." Atton picks up the dance pretty quickly, which lets him relax a little bit.

"I'm Amanda an are ye 'njoyin' the fine town o'Lincoln?"

Brightly: "Well. The fighting here's good." Beat. Quickly: "Oh, and the dancing, too."

She moves a little closer,

"Do 'ope ye willna leave too quickly."

Atton would move back a little, but that would be rude.

"Why's that?"

"Cause dinna get 'nough interestin' folks like ye 'ere."

"I'm not that interesting."

"Aye, ye are, ye're tall an strong an carry tales on ye. Tell me o'where ye're from."

Her hand wanders to where the scar on his shoulder is.

Ah.

Atton's not sure how to describe a bi-seasonal planet in a binary star system, where the suns can't be seen on account of the unique properties of the thick clouds that cover the planet, and where there are no herbivores - only carnivores and photovores - to somebody from medieval England.

"It's snowy. Or it is most of the time, but sometimes the snow melts and makes huge great rivers where there used to be valleys. The lands are divided up amongst various clans - there are about a dozen - and mine is one of the larger ones, and one of the more warlike ones. Pretty much everyone there is dark-haired and tall - I'm actually kinda considered short by the standards of my people."

"An 'ow did ye up so far from there?"

He sounds like he must be almost like the Vikings from far in the North where its cold and snowy.

"Yeah. Far up North."

Atton hears that Earth has a cold North and a warm South, after all.

"Is yer friend a Vikin'?"

"No, just descended from them."

"Oh aye."

The music starts to slow and she moves closer to him,

"Does someone wait for ye somewhere in the cold?"

"Yes, yes, someone does. You know, it's a shame Will didn't fight. He's good, y'would've liked him."

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