• Closed • [Krome] Krometheus

[Alistair]

5th of Cylus, Arc 717
The Duchy of Krome, Rynmere

He felt his body tremble in the face of the cold, one so pervasive that not even the stone fortifications of this home could withstand it. While a fire raged in the room he’d been granted as a guest, he found himself shaking and shivering throughout the night, longing for the tower of Sabaissant in the Duchy of Roses, the place where he and his younger siblings had slept. The warmth rose and the tower had been designed to keep heat within its walls, capable of doing so only due to the moderation of the cold in Venora, comparatively to that of the stark frost that permeated the Duchy of Krome.

He would be glad to be free of the season of Cylus, as it grew disarmingly unpleasant once the hearth became a bore and the days of contemplation had ended. While he’d kept himself entertained by the charming and alluring company of a certain Xander Krome, still did he long for the warm days of Ashan, where festivities of wine and artistic genius were sprawled throughout the streets of Venora, from Sabaissant du Cristel to Lamonte.

The nobleman placed a warm fur coat over his chest, pulling himself away from the bed covers and sitting beside the fire. He stepped into a pair of white undergarments, resting his legs by the fire, as he lacked proper winter casualwear for them. He’d arrived in a brocade doublet with full-on riding attire beneath it, which was entirely ironic considering he didn’t actually travel via horseback, though he at least pretended to do so.

It made the fact that he’d utilized teleporting to get around everywhere... a little less obvious.

Settling himself near the hearth, the man looked to the surroundings of his room. There were crafted hangings on the wall, deer heads and stone etchings, though nothing of particular interest to a visitor. He wished to know of this home's history, and of the people within it, which would help to decorate his view of Xander... who he'd become fast friends with, some would say. Opening the wooden drawers by his bed, he found a piece of what almost seemed like an impressionist painting. It was not all too refined, and somewhat shoddy, as if the work of someone with a passion for art yet not quite the discipline or experience to pursue it professionally.

The man stood from the bedside, stepping towards the door. It was still early morning, and Cylus was quite dark, so he figured there would be few individuals making rounds through the house. A perfect time to explore.

Slipping on his woolen trousers and tying the fur coat to conceal most of his chest, the Venora stepped through the door and explored the floor he was on, looking at the paintings and the stories that came with them. "If I recall..." he whispered to himself, "Xander's mother and father are... Sophia and Jersey Krome. He has... no, had, three siblings. They were..." he paused. The nobleman honestly couldn't remember their names - he only knew that they'd not been all too far apart in age, and that his line had been proven to be fairly fertile, with a significant number of offspring.

"One of them died, didn't they?" he asked himself. "A young woman - younger than Andraska, even. I can't put my hand on her na-" he paused, hearing servants climb the steps. Looking to his side, he made eye contact with one of them, before turning his head back to one of the fairly typical familial paintings. His thoughts were in many different directions, though at least a few of them fell back to the line of succession in Krome, and determining which particular individual would pose the greatest threat to the succession of Sophia's line. If he were to place his support in the direction of Xander, the man would need to become Duke, or else his investment would be entirely wasted.

Everything mattered, if one wished for a line far back in succession to take the mantle. One's parents, one's siblings, one's familial history and ancient reputation. Sophia's branch would need to be one of strength, and Alistair and Xander would have the challenge of making the other lines appear to be ones of weak hereditary material and historical insignificance. The nobleman sighed; this was a challenging prospect, but securing powerful allies who were truly loyal friends was never easy. He'd done much in his life to secure the loyalty of his vassals in the Duchy of Venora, but even now, he could not claim to guarantee the trustworthiness of the majority of them.

Turning around and allowing for the serving boy to pass into his own chambers to keep them tidy, the Venora decided to pass the time by knocking on the door of the man who'd slept in the room beside him, Xander.

"Good morning, Xander," he called him quite informally through the door, by his first name. "I hope I'm not bothering you, but I grow anxious from too much idleness," he said. "May I come in?"

[Xander Andaris]

Xander had slept rather well, the warmth from the fires burning around the house caused the room to be of a comfortable temperature for him. He had also found himself calm and collected after the meeting with Alistair. It had been a productive evening that was always something that called the young Lord. With the prospects of peace and a good relationship between their two houses they had parted for bed. He as always slept in the nude, he found clothes uncomfortable between the bed sheet. Besides, there was warmth enough in his opinion without the need of clothes. He knew that he could always add another blanket if necessary.

He was always one to wake early, sleeping in did not suit his productive personality. Therefore, he would always wake early and get a start on something, be that reading or in the warmer months he might go for a run. In the case of today he was going through some strength training his old sword tutor had taught him. He was stood holding the sheathed sword above his head, the aim was to hold the sword there for around 10 bits. This part he would normal succeed with, the more difficult part was when he had to move to holding them out directly in front of him. Then he could only manage the hold for around 6 bits before he could not keep his arms in place. He was aware that he was not as strong as he should be, hence his training.

This was how Alistair would find Xander when he knocked. The young lord was stood in his casual brown wool trousers without his shirt, his back to the door as he heard the call from Alistair. “Come in.” He said as he released the tension in his muscles and allowed the sword to drop down to his thighs. “Good morning Lord Venora, I had not expected you to be an early riser.” He reached for his shirt, having already placed the sheathed sword back on the peg from where it hanged. If he was to be honest with himself he had no plan for what the two would get up to this trial.

“Did you sleep well? I hope it wasn't too cold, I'm sure you southerners aren't as used to the cold as we are here in Krome.” He pulled his shirt over his bare toned upper body. He relished on the warmth of the fabric, it was not like diving back into bed but it was certainly a nice shield for his skin. “We can get some food if you are hungry, otherwise I am lacking in plans for the day.” He felt a little ashamed of his lack of planning but he had not known the man before he could not have known what he would want to do. “I would suggest we start with a small breakfast and then we can move onto something more productive, be that discussion like last night or something a little more entertaining. I do not mind I would just prefer not to sit around and do nothing.” He laughed a little before picking up his warm coat and pulling it over his shirt it was accompanied by his boots aswell.

Once fully dressed he moved over to the door to lead the way back down stairs to collect some food. His stomach grumbled a little as he remembered he hadn't eaten since lunch the trial before. “Would you like some eggs or maybe something sweet, I think there was some fig pie left.” he began to walk with the man guiding him through the quiet house. The sound of people in the kitchen could be heard but beside that it was clear that the dimly lit house was quite empty.

“I am happy to have your company, it can get lonely out here.” He smiled at the new friend as they entered into the hearth room they had been in the night before. The fire was already lit, waiting for the steward and his guest to enter into the room. “Are you skilled with a blade, we should spar sometime i wish to increase my own skill but have nobody to practice with most of the time.” He leaned against the chair and looked at the lord. “Besides I feel like you would make a fun opponent, much more interesting than old Badon. You look like you can move well.” He looked rather smug as he moved around to warm himself by the fire.

[Alistair]

Opening the door, the first thing he witnessed was the Lord with his bare chest revealed. The nobleman's brow rose, and his expression grew almost embarrassingly silly for a moment before the man pulled his shirt over his head. He wasn't just surprised by the man's attractive figure, but also by his boldness in wearing so little on such a cold day. "Can't imagine why anyone would want to wear less clothing in this weather," he remarked, shaking his head. "But yes, good morning," the man waved his hand at the Krome. "As for my sleeping habits, well..."

He looked towards the fire, his iris reflecting the flames as he thought upon a proper way to display his words. "There's a sort of solace that comes with waking before the crack of dawn. You get to witness the silent, pleasant bustling of the streets before they're filled, with nothing but cobble and the howling of dogs behind you. You see the sky before it's emboldened by the sun, and the still breath of the horizon before all comes to be. To be quite honest, Lord Krome, I am a man who would have been much more happy if the world were quite a lot less full than it is now. Waking early and sleeping late, I can at least have my placebo stillness at the ends of the margins, where it's just I and my imagination." Did that mean he did not enjoy the presence of people? Not necessarily.

But, Alistair was a lonely sort, a man who enjoyed the peace and quiet, the times of reflection, and contemplation. If Cylus were not so bloody cold, he would have adored this season most of all, but alas.

Perhaps that was part of why he'd enjoyed his stay in the Northern Krome House so far - while Xander may have found its halls empty and bleak, it was a welcome relief from the fullness of the Sabaissant du Cristel, with hundreds of people going about their business on a daily basis. Venora, and all of its branches, and all of their servants and slaves - it was practically a township in itself. Here, it had been only he and Xander, which was a clear and welcome relief.

"I did sleep well," he confirmed. "I woke a bit miffed from the cold, but the rest of the night I was... relatively well-suited. I'm just not quite as used to this chilling frost as your people are." In Venora, the weather complimented the people, and they complimented the weather. They wore open-chested attire, short-sleeved vests and dresses, and they paid little attention to what may conceal them from the frost, for it never came. Even in Cylus, its appearances were scarce.

"Hungry?" he paused. "Ah..." Frankly, he wasn't hungry, as he'd already eaten last night. Due to the mutations that came from his... witchcraft, some called it, the man only needed to eat once in a few days. But of course, that was impossible to explain to other nobles, who would quickly use that secret to defame him. Alistair would have to come up with some excuse. "No, I'm quite alright. I ate an evening snack last night before I fell asleep," he said, though that was a lie. Luckily, it was one casual enough that he doubted anyone would investigate that claim.

Nevertheless, he followed the man to the kitchen, denying any offers of food in the meanwhile.

Upon being told of the other Lord's happiness at Alistair accompanying him, the Venora smiled, faintly. "I am happy to have you as my company as well," he said, nodding. The man did not wish to sound too easily agreeable, but he and Xander had clicked well and early, and he had no fear or inhibition in informing him of that. The man was, after all, a fast friend. The fact that Alistair woke alive even further proved his good intentions.

"I am not quite all that... skilled with a blade, to be frank," he replied, sighing. "Though ironically, I do have a lot of combat experience."

He referred, of course, to the many duels and battles he'd undergone as a mage. Magic far super-imposed over the power of mortal weaponry, and so he'd focused spellcasting over martial skills for much of his life. However, he understood that he was near the peak of his magical ability, and soon enough he'd need to learn how to fight without the arcane arts backing him, particularly for wars within the realm of the Kingdom.

Moving himself closer to the fire, beside Xander, the man stared silently at the open flames. "We could spar now, if you'd like," he offered. "Though, I can't guarantee you won't be injured in the exchange," Alistair teased, glancing into Xander's eyes as a small smirk grew on the corners of his lips.

[Xander Andaris]

Curious, Xander had not expected Alistair to be a lover of solitude, yet then again he himself was happy when alone. Yet, he spent too long alone up at this house and thus he had begun to see the harsher sides of a solitary life. He doubted that Alistair had ever been alone long enough to see that even when you appreciated the solitude it eventually becomes a sort of prison. "I understand the appeal of time alone, I enjoy solitude myself. Yet, even I get lonely, eventually the solitude becomes more a prison than anything else." He expressed the view openly, he was among good company and healthy discussion would be no trouble.

"I am glad to hear you slept well, as for the cold I can have you brought some extra blankets if you would like? I am sorry that it is so cold up here, I am used to it. Sometimes I think my body doesn't even notice it anymore." Of course that was an exaggeration because he did feel the cold, but while he exercised he was warm and inside the house it was plenty warm enough for the noble. "I hope you were comfortable I truly do, I know that there is little worse than being uncomfortable when trying to sleep." He chuckled at the memory of when he had once tried to sleep on an old rickety wooden bed in an inn. It had been so wobbly he was afraid to move, else he might make it fall. That had been the worst night of sleep he had ever had, he got barely a wink.

The man refused his offer of food and he shrugged it off thinking little of it. What was there to think , the man was not hungry, simple. Although Alistair would accept nothing he would at least take a small chunk of bread to keep him going through the morning. He had already finished the bread once they were in the Hearth room chatting, he looked at the man rather confused and intrigued by his comment. Not skilled with a blade but well versed in combat, Xander struggled for a short while on what he could mean and quickly came to the conclusion that maybe the man was a brawler. "Oh I see, so you are a brawler then, or a boxer, maybe you prefer a mace?" He questioned the man unaware of the true meaning behind his statement.

There was nothing to lead Xander to believe that the other lord was a user of magic. He was curious as to where the mans horse was and all his equipment. Yet, then again he too had hired horses for travel before and also traveled light. When trying to reach a location with haste it was often much more effective to leave all unnecessary items at home.

The other lord had joined him by the fire now and they both stood warming themselves before it. Alistair was quite clearly a handsome man and the low flickering light was certainly flattering for him. Xander observed the smirk on his lips as he challenged him to a sparring match. His words were certainly more confident than Xander had hoped them to be. He knew that his new friend had triumphed over his captors when under his cousins imprisonment. For all he knew it was due to the mans skills with a blade, although modesty did not appear something that ran strongly in the Venoran blood lines and so he did find himself believing the man when he said he was not that skilled with a blade.

"Well Lord Venora, shall we see if that concern is well placed?" He was again being rather playful and enjoying some harmless banter with the Lord. "We can spar now, unless you are scared of course, I would obviously understand if you didn't want to bruise your pristine flower like body." He grinned at the man as he stepped back from the fire and went to retrieve the two practice swords that his father kept in the house.

He was back very quickly having been gone only around three bits. "Catch." He said as he entered and threw the weighted wooden sword to the man. It was certainly harder to throw than he had imagined, he really did need to work on his strength. It would have been pointless for him to have ambitions of such grandeur and not be able to succeed as he was killed the first time he ever faced an opponent. He did not want to be remembered as the one day revolutionary.

[Alistair]

Could solitude be a prison? He believed it could be. No people meant no competition, and no competition meant no knowledge, no growth, no entertainment. The man was correct, though Alistair would have worded it differently. Solitude could also be an escape from the entrapment that was others -- individuals who so often could bring one harm. It was not a prison, but a deathly, lone march, of a man free from the shackles of his peers yet condemned to death for his rejection of them. It was a slow poison, brought about by an even slower one.

He did not believe in total isolation, yet he understood why so many mages had walked that path, in loathing of the world that had rejected them for a lifetime.

"A few more blankets would suit me well, thank you," the man said, nodding. His train of thought went null, allowing for his mind to focus on more pressing discussions, away from the hyperbole, allegory and inquisitive nature of a discussion about "solitude" or any such nuanced thing.

His combative interests being questioned, the man bit his lower lip and stared at Xander. "Neither of those things," he replied, reciting one of his typically utilized answers that still yet refrained from the admission of his magical use. "I am a strategist," he said, conveniently, "My expertise in combat does not come entirely from my martial finesse, but the sharpness of my mind. Of course, with no loyal men around me, such a skill is without use... which would explain why I'm interested in expanding my horizons." He did not need to appear stronger than he was. That would only make Xander suspicious of him. As such, he dialed himself two steps back, not pressing any further on the line of how he'd managed to gain so much combat experience without being particularly skilled in any form of physical combat, save for the art of building muscle and utilizing it to his advantage.

Being teased by the Krome, the Venora shook his head playfully and laughed. "Pristine, flower-like body?" he asked. "That's what you call this, Xander?" The man flexed his muscles, though the action of showing off almost prevented him from being able to pull his arms back in order to catch the blade. Fumbling over himself to grab the weapon in time, the nobleman blushed slightly and held the sword outward. "I'm not scared, Xander," he replied. "If anyone should be, it's you. If there's anything to be said about my particular skillset, it's that I hit hard. You ready for an example?"

The Venora quickly lunged forward, throwing all of the strength in one of his arms into the pommel of his blade, tensing his muscles and tightening his grip, and striking at Xander while his off-hand remained vigilantly at his side, in order to catch any attempts at a side stab from the Krome. If Xander wished to contend with Alistair's blows, he'd likely need to utilize the strength of both arms to match Alistair's, which would ultimately disadvantage him. "I'm no legend with a blade," he began, "but I'm a savant of the human anatomy. Everything is a weapon - especially the mind."

[Xander Andaris]

He nodded at the man's comment, he wanted his guest to be comfortable. “I will have them sent up before bed this evening. Then I hope you will remain warm throughout the night.” He smiled casually and was growing comfortable around the lord. He was at the point of considering the use of the first name, although he knew it inappropriate. Alistair had used his first name already, opting for lord Xander mostly rather than Lord Krome. Maybe he was being too uptight about how he addressed the lord, in reality he probably wouldn't mind if Xander called him Alistair. Yet his etiquette told him to hold back a little longer, the use of first names would be a big step for two lords. Especially two lords who met only the day before.

Xander shrugged as the man explained away his curiosity at the lack of physical skill with that of tactics. A strategist should be what he had assumed in the first place, he know that many noble men chose the position of commander over that of a warrior. It was much safer to stand at the back of a battle and give orders than charge in the front line and risk being stabbed by a stray spear. He himself had not decided what his preference was, but he knew that either way knowing how to fight was important. Now they would see who was the more skilled out if the two of them, or at least who could take the most bruises.

He chuckled as the man fumbled the practice sword, he had expected as much when he started showing off his well formed muscles. “We will see what happens, I am not one to speculate on entrance to a new fight. I instead shall take it as it comes.” And so he wrapped his fingers titly around the hilt of his sword, the leather binding providing him with plenty of grip. Although grip would not be enough apparently as Alistair took him by surprise. He had not been fully prepared or ready for the attack, he had been busy listening to the other lord's words.

He did, however, manage to bring his blade up to meet Alistairs. Only just managing to parry it, the loud clack of wood resonating in the large room. It had taken all the strength he could muster to force his opponent’s blade off target and knock it just a fraction of an itch to the side of his abdomen. He now knew the man was serious when he said he hit hard, the sound of the air being moved by the blade was a loud swish. Xander now returned a slash swinging the blade upwards from the low angle it had started at and amining for for the man's stomach. He doubted for it to remain on course but he used all the might he could muster to swing it.

His mind was focused on the fight before him, nothing could distract him from this. Xander had nothing more important than this fight right now. He wanted to win, or at least put up a good fight. Respect as much as personal growth was the aim of this game, the victor would most likely be seen by the other as more skilled. In this world the more skilled was always the better, or so Xander believed. His view was that there was two things considered when deciding respect, lineage and skill. He had one of those down and although he preferred to gain the respect of others by ignoring this part of his background he knew it helped.

Skill was the most important of the two. A general would much prefer to have his men's respect because they are impressed by him, rather than his name is one of a noble house. Respect and loyalty gained through skill and trust was always preferable over that which was gained through circumstance. His parents for example, he had gained the loyalty and respect of the servants through acts expressing his skill. Although he also treated them as equals and not like trash which influenced the situation.

His mind was wandering now and so he pulled it back to the fight, his focus returning completely to the swinging of his sword. If parried he would take a couple of steps back to attempt avoiding an immediate counter. It would also give him chance to prepare to block another powerful swing from his opponent. If the attack hit, however, he would follow up with another quick slash. His for that one would be to continue upwards from the stomach and hot the man's free underarm. Although he doubted that would succeed off not blocked as he already felt off balance, his feet were placed too close together from his movement forward.

[Alistair]

Part of utilizing one's strength was learning to counter-act weakness with a show of force. Not only could one cancel out the kinetic force of another's blow, or at least meet it, but they could entirely negate and deflect an attack by matching one with a display of superior strength. While Alistair was not very skilled in a blade, he was exceptionally strong, and that strength would show itself in the course of this battle. It was what he relied on to gain an advantage.

As Xander parried his blow, Alistair quickly pulled his blade back, ensuring that he could defend for a counter-attack. Instead of trying to move around, or practice his footing, he focused on a style of combat that was more about being a bastion against the opponent. While Xander was more lithe, Alistair was larger, bulkier and more focused on surviving and withstanding. So, he did not step back, but instead he stood his ground and deflected the man's oncoming swing towards his stomach -- but rather than pulling his sword back to him, he quickly swung upwards and met the man's swing towards his stomach with a powerful slash. Focusing his strength into his right arm -- the one that wielded the sword -- his upward slash, countering against Xander's, had enough force to throw the Krome's arm back from its swing, or entirely disarm him.

Then, if his maneuver succeeded, he would immediately move forward and try to grab the Krome's collar with his left fist, securing his dominance in the fight as long as he maneuvered correctly. Alistair used his advantage of strength in stride, and also fought in a way that utilized every portion of his body. He would not go swinging around with Xander until one of them was hit or disarmed; instead, he was perfectly content to step in and wrestle the other Lord to the floor. That was Alistair's fighting style -- utilizing everything at his disposal to gain an advantage, regardless of the chivalrous way in which others typically fought.

[Xander Andaris]

Xander was certainly surprised by the force with which Alistair could wield the sword. It was clear from watching that he did not care for finesse or great technical skill, but instead the use of his immense strength. Xander felt his arm jar a little as he tried to resist the swing that was caused by Alistair's parry. He struggled to control his muscles as they jerk back and his arm windmilled. It was a good job the room had a high ceiling that opened up to the second floor, otherwise he would have taken a chunk out of it. His sword arm was now useless as it was sent spiralling backwards leaving him almost completely defenceless.

This was taken advantage of by the much stronger Venora who lunged forward taking a hold of his collar. They were close now their bodies almost touching as the lighter and more agile Xander was taken into Alistair's tight grip. As their faces came close Xander saw something strange with Alistair's eyes, the irises, they were like a moving scene of paint in water. He looked at them, an interesting trait, one he had never seen before. He stared into the other Lords eyes, surprised by how the eyes made him feel. They made him feel somewhat entrapped, he struggled to look away from them.

Right now it would have appeared that Xander was completely trapped, as Alistair's sword moved towards him he assumed to finish the fight. His was still hanging behind him. Yet, like the Venoran Lord, Xander was a man that would use any advantage he had. In this case it was his quicker light body and the mans strong grip.

He hooked his leg out under Alistair's and twisted himself, the whole force contained within his upper body muscles plus his mass was being used to pull him down, this relied on the mans grip keeping hold thinking he was just trying to break free. He felt every muscle he had pull at the bulkier man as he attempted to manoeuvre himself to land atop Alistair when they came to the ground. If he managed this he would end up being half laid, half knelt, atop the Lord having then taken the advantage back.

[Alistair]

The strength of his blow connected, and Xander's arm was sent flying back from the force Alistair applied to the blow. It was almost instantly after their wooden swords connected that Alistair swept forward, locking Xander with a tight grip, suppressing the other nobleman's mobility. If this were a real battle, the Venora would've slipped a dagger to his throat immediately after, but alas he found himself ill-equipped. Of course, suppressing the man's movement and gaining a grip on him was useful regardless, and Alistair had all but ensured that he'd won the confrontation.

Until something strange happened - something he almost forgot tended to happen, as it had been a long time since he'd gotten so close, and so face-to-face, with anyone who was not exposed to the oddities of the outside world. While Xander found himself staring into Alistair's eyes, which displayed the gradient of a nebula, the nobleman didn't quite really know why the Krome was staring directly into his eyes, and so intensely. His mind went racing, wondering of what was going through Xander's head. Was he accepting defeat? Was he scared? Was he going through a seizure? Was he hosting a spontaneous erection, and terrified that the Venora would notice it?

Okay, he doubted that one, truth be told.

Nevertheless, the pause prevented Alistair from gaining his victory, as he'd become too distracted by what may be going on in Xander's head. As a result, the man's maneuver worked, though Alistair regained his senses very shortly after Xander began to throw him off balance. Though he still landed on the floor, with Xander , he'd managed to retain his potential for victory by securing an important objective: as Xander pulled Alistair underneath him, the mage grabbed the other man's wrists amidst their fall, gripping them as tightly as he could to ensure they did not break free. Then, struggling against the man's body weight, Alistair propelled himself upward via the muscles in his legs, pulling Xander up with him and forcing the man's hands behind him.

Alistair knelt upward, with Xander seated atop his legs from his thigh to his knees, the mage struggling to keep the other Lord's arms locked behind his back. Both of them had been disarmed in the equation, and so neither of them could land a decisive blow. Their sword spar had turned more into a wrestle for dominance, with Alistair's heart beating rapidly and his body enthralled by the actions.

However, it was unlikely that Xander would be able to break free of his grip this time, and so he called the fight.

"I'm... not sure if I'd consider this victory, since we were both disarmed," he said, grinning. "Even so, you fought well, Lord Krome, and cleverly. I can see you're quite the strategist yourself."

Letting go of the man's wrists, the mage leaned back playfully, likely causing for Xander to fall onto his chest. His stomach rose and dropped rhythmically, as his arms pulled back to create a cushion for his head.

"Hey," he called to the other Lord. "I have a question -- why were you staring at me earlier? It was... disarming, literally even," the mage chuckled. "Were you enthralled by the peppermint smell of my breath? Or my fluttering lashes? Perhaps the whiteness of my teeth through the grimace?" He jested, though in reality he was curious as to the purpose of the man's... alarming stare.

[Xander Andaris]

The move had worked and the two men came tumbling to the ground, although not exactly as planned. Alistair had managed to take hold of Xander's wrists, seizing them tightly in his hands. As they came to the ground Xander on top his hands were forced behind his back, where he found he could not break free of the much stronger lords grasp. He struggled a littel wriggling and trying to worm free of the man's hold but to no avail, he was truly stuck in Alistair's hands. He sighed as he gave up and let himself go limp in the lords grasp.

When the Lord suggested it was not a win for either of them he nodded and let out a chuckle. "You would have won had I not made a dirty move and tripped you. You are truly strong Lord Alistair, I did not realise it at first. I guess you are more of a tree than a flower after all." He let out another laugh at his comment shaking his head a little. "I did my best, I need a little more practise don't you think?" He said in response to the compliment he was offered, he was not the best at accepting compliments when he didn't see himself as worthy of them. But he let it slide and they quickly moved on.

He was dropped by the Venoran and landed on his chest with a groan. "I will learn not to get into a wrestling match with you in the future." He said with a sigh as he used his weakened arms to role himself off of the other noble. They laid side by side briefly before he sat up, his muscles aching a little. He had not really expected the fight to consume that much of his energy, then again, he had not realised he was going up against such a physically strong opponent. One good thing that had come out of it was that he needed to work on his strength and skill with a sword. He made a mental note to get more lessons before the season was out. He also made a note to increase his strength exercises.

He pushed himself to his feet as he faced the rather comfortable looking Alistair. He didn't think he had seen anyone look that comfortable after a sparring match before, not necessarily a bad thing though. "Comfortable down there? I know you won but no need to look so smug." He nudged the mans leg with his foot playfully. He had no doubt the man was happy with the outcome even if he was being modest about it not being a proper victory.

He had almost forgotten about his staring at the mans eyes. It was certainly something he had not observed from a distance but in close he felt like he was looking into some strange vortex. "Your eyes, they are very interesting. Why do they seem to bleed colours, almost like a vortex or paint in water." He rubbed his chin as he tried to figure out what it could be. He had never seen anything like it, to him it appeared unique.

"It is not an unattractive thing, I found it quite mesmerising actually if that is what you are worried about." He said reassuringly, looking down at the Lord and offering him a hand up. He dangled it out for the man to take if he wished, beckoning the man to take it with his fingers. He held no grudge against the other Lord for winning, in fact he had expected it so it made it a lot less painful of a loss. If he had expected to win on the other hand, then he may have been a little more unhappy.