Cri 06, 229: You Don't Know What It's Like

You Don't Know What It's Like
Summary: Kierne tries to get to the bottom of Oxley's hatred for him.
OOC Date: 06/04/2014
Related: A Couple
Players:
Kierne Oxley 
Royal Stables - Darfield Castle
Horses, equipment, &c.
06 Cri, 229

Kierne prowls the stables, done up in a light, flowing undertunic of cream-colored linen, now that the weather's better, and his riding trousers and boots, moving here and there and going through the motions of tidying with a certain intensity which might well indicate he's got more on his mind than polishing tack.

Oxley is laying in a pile of hay near his own horse. He's in tight riding pants and his beige button up shirt is a few buttons loose at the top, revealing the tufts of his rather hirsute chest. His eyes are closed, chest rising and falling in a rather relaxed state.

Kierne strides down a corridor, hefting a heavy armored collarpiece aloft to hang on a peg along the wall, now properly polished. He's built up a little bit of a light sheen of sweat moving back and forth with the armor among his other chores, and, spotting Oxley there in the hay, he stops, lips twisting to one side. He hesitates a moment, since he knows that minutes to rest are few and far between, and knows Aidan's been working his squire just as hard as his own Lord Knight is working him. Still, he steps over, rapping his knuckles on a post. "Hey."

The knock does indeed stir the squire, and his face scrunches a bit as he wakes, stretching his arm up over his head and letting out a bit of a grunting sound. He smacks his lips together a bit and his squinted eyes slowly open. He stares up at Kierne, and then he sighs. "Get your own. I stacked this here myself," he grumbles, apparently thinking Kierne said "hay."

"Heh," is all Kierne can muster for the sleep-addled pun. "No, I mean. We need to talk." This, without his customary slice of jovial wit that usually marks his speech. All in all a rather somber sight, unusual from the usually quite jocular squire.

Oxley furrows his brow, and he slowly pushes himself up to his feet. He runs his fingers through his long, ratty hair, scratching his head a bit. "We do, huh?" He looks over at his horse and reaches out, patting it's side. "So?"

Kierne leans there against the post, lifting his arm and sticking his elbow against it to prop himself up, elbow bending to let his hand rest at the back of his head. He watches the other squire from that distance, not approaching. "If I've done you some wrong, you should tell me what it is so we can have it out. As far as I know I've never done a thing to you, and yet the very sight of me seems to have you one pique away from spitting on the floor in distaste."

Oxley shrugs, not looking at Kierne, his attention staying on the horse. "You put Duke Aidan in a healer's bed after sparring with him." He finally looks at Kierne, face stern and serious. "I've not had the chance to avenge him."

Kierne is quiet for a short while. "Yeah, I did do that, didn't I? I hope you know it wasn't on purpose. My uncle Aidan's very dear to me, I'd never hurt him with intent to do so. Still, you want to avenge him? Here I am. Come and hit me, as you like. Hit me and be done with it. We're likely as not to be going off to war together, soon, each alongside our knight, and there shouldn't be bad blood."

Oxley slowly sighs, pursing his lips in thought. Finally, he tilts his head a bit, "Really? You just want to do this right here?" He shifts his weight a bit from one foot to the other. "Fine." He begins to pull his fist back, preparing to punch, but then instead, lunges at Kierne's midsection as hard and fast as he can, attempting to topple him down to the ground.

Kierne braces himself to take whatever he has coming to him, turning his head slightly so that he might not get a broken nose from a punch to the face, but then the next moment he's on his back with Oxley on top of him, breathless with a stabbing pain, as Oxley seems to have found the very place where he had been chopped with an axe some weeks previously and put all of his weight there on it. "Auugh," he gurgles a little bit, then breathes through the pain, collecting himself.

Oxley isn't finished. As soon as they're on the ground, the boy begins laying punches to Kierne's face. He's like a wild animal, punch after punch, his long hair flailing a bit as he relentlessly attacks the downed Kierne. Kierne, however, holds his own, doing his best to block the incoming barrage. "Come on, you perfect son of a bitch! Fight me!"

Kierne just gets his arms overhead and takes the pummelling, grunting as he twists subtly one way or the other to help the blows land less painfully, but, holy crap, he's still just sort of putting up with it. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow," is his only commentary.

There doesn't seem to be an end as Oxley continues to pummel Kierne. "I said fight me! Come on!" he shouts as he punches, his fist finally slipping between Kierne's blocks and connecting with Kierne's cheekbone.

"I— ow, ow, I already hurt you, remember? Now it's ow. OW. Your turn," Kierne grimaces. "Go on, get it all out of your system," he goads Oxley, not really trying to get away from the blows, just trying to get through this in one piece.

Oxley stops, grabbing Kierne by the shirt and shaking him a little, "Are you fucking kidding me!?!?" He shoves the other boy into the ground a bit. "You aren't better than me! Now come on! Fight me!"

Kierne's shirt is less sturdy than he is, the light, airy fabric ripping under Oxley's shaking, "Ghhh!" he expels a breath when shoved into the ground, "Pff," he pants, "Who even said I was better than you? Heh, I'm no better than anyone else. And a great deal worse than most."

Oxley scowls, "Don't act like you don't get it!" He snarls a bit, "You don't think I SEE it? The fuckin' way your uncle looks at you? How he sees me and wishes I was more like you? Well fuck you! Now come on! Fight me, you fuckin' horse's ass!" He lifts his fist back again, ready to hit Kierne again.

Kierne lets his guard down a little as Oxley does the same, showing the real hurt Kierne had caused him. A hurt he knows only too well, growing up never quite as good as his brother at anything, always coming in a late second to find his mother and father preoccupied with his victory. His eyes might be seen to water a little if they weren't already watery from the pain, that blow to his cheekbone already making one eye darken a little. Keeping one arm lifted to the side of his head, he lets the other arm drop, hand coming to rest on Oxley's leg where the other squire is straddling him. "Man…" comes the word in a sympathetic whisper.

When Kierne lays his hand on him, Oxley jumps back, pushing himself up to his feet. "Don't touch me. Just… don't fucking touch me." He scowls a bit, and steps away, turning his back on Kierne, dusting his knees off. "When you're ready to fucking fight and show your honor, you let me know," he grumbles, the disdain still in his voice.

Kierne's hand jumps back overhead when he's reprimanded. He doesn't think, somehow, that now would be the best time to point out that if he tried to hit him, he'd also be touching him. But that's what's rattling around in his head when Oxley turns away, finally sighing. "Alright, fine. Sunset in the courtyard, we'll have a proper spar. But after that we're hitting the town. First man to yield buys the drinks." Nothing to mend bridges like getting shitfaced together.

Oxley looks back, his scruffy cheeks still flush with anger. "I'll be there. But I'm not drinking with you." He finally spits, "Your privileged life can suck it. Buy your own damned piss to drink for all I care." He begins to slowly walk towards the door to leave.

Kierne crawls to his feet, staggering a little bit, leaning on a post. Oh, that one hurt. Not the blows, but the accusation of being privileged. "What the… hell… first you were mad at me because I hit uncle Aidan in the head. Then because uncle Aidan likes me better than you. Then because I have too much money? What is your problem with me? Just pick one so I can figure out how to make it right, for fuck's sake!"

Oxley turns around, "Maybe it's just YOU. Has that ever crossed your mind? I've worked my ass off to get here while you just get handed a squireship with my cousin. He doesn't even know my fucking name, you know that?" Okay, so there's some baggage here, apparently. "And you just prance around him like you're the fuckin' shit, while all I hear is how it's too fucking bad I'm not more like you and how fucking ready you are to be a knight!" He takes a step back toward Kierne, "Well, fuck you!"

Kierne's brow furrows a little bit. "I don't know what you've heard, but I had to prove myself worthy as a page before I was assigned a knight to squire for, same as anybody else," he tries to clear up what he obviously sees as some misinformation. "And yeah, Uncle Aidan did talk about knighting me at the tourney. But you know what? That would have been incredibly stupid. The only reason I won the stupid thing was that nobody thought I was a threat enough to bother with until they had all already knocked the living shit out of one another. Trust me, now that they've had a chance to see me in actual battle, nobody's going to be knighting me anytime soon." If Ronan doesn't know his cousin's name, there's not much he can do about that, either, but he doesn't think heaping that on there will be productive at all.

Oxley nods, "Yeah. You won that tourney. Ready to be knighted, he said. So, we'll see tonight just how ready you are." He shakes his head then, "You're put in charge of training the locals while I clean the stalls. You know what that's like? Seeing my cousin hand you that kind of honor while I can't even get Aidan to look at me because he's so infatuated with his new wife?"

"I know I'm not ready. You know I'm not ready. If it's about letting Uncle Aidan know, at least let him be there to watch," Kierne replies. "It'll be good for him to see you win. It's not cool of him to treat you like that. Though to be fair I didn't see your cousin for about a month after he was married, he was so busy trying to bury an heir somewhere inside of her," he wrinkles up his nose a bit. "And he didn't hand me any kind of honor. I asked him if I could help, and he said that as long as I get all the rest of my chores done it'd be fine with him. It's not like it's an official position or anything. I just wanted to help out, because I thought it was a good idea the king had, and think that the people have a right to know how to defend themselves."

Oxley furrows his brow again, the anger seeming to have finally faded from his face. Apparently, the niceness is finally starting to work. "You don't know what it's like to be told it's too bad you weren't someone else." He huffs, looking away, "I don't need Aidan to watch." He looks back at Kierne, "And I don't need you to LET me win. You fight and you fight hard. I'll win on my own."

Kierne opens his mouth. Closes it again. Opens it one more time, mouth twisted into a wide smile of pain, eyes springing with tears again, then the tears starting to fall, "Hoo. Um, sorry," he wipes one arm across his eyes. "No, I'm not saying I'm going to let you win. Just based on what I've felt so far, I seriously doubt you have anything to worry about. Not that I couldn't possibly get a lucky shot in, but," he shrugs, tears still coming unbidden to his eyes. He laughs and turns about, "Ow, uh, that eye's really starting to smart," he tries squeezing both eyes shut, but the tears are unfortunately audible in his voice in between the chortles he tries to laugh it away with.

Oxley stands there for a moment, not quite sure what's just happened her. He rubs his chin, a little nervous, glances around, and then just says, "I'll see you at sunset." He nods to himself, turns, and heads off.

Yeah, Oxley just broke Kierne, somehow. Kierne's just going to go… place. He has work still to do, here in the stables, polishing the tack, so that'll give him a nice long time to sit and think. Which is exactly what he doesn't need right now.

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