Polo and Dreameh's Medieval RP.

Archer ignored Derek's annoyed comments, and just nodded for him to follow him until they'd reached the neighbouring stall to Little Brother. It was no wider and a few feet, but it created some distance between them and the pony, and at least Archer could still fuss over his steed with naught but a post between them. He placed a hand on Little Brother's short back and patted it fondly, then turned to his friend, who looked the most displeased at being brought to such an unclean place. Archer rolled his eyes, but decided to ignore his friend's actions. Perhaps Derek wasn't used to living in the gutter, but Archer was, and Derek could either deal with it or be traumatised. ((You lovely friend, Archer. ))
"I am a thief, Derek." Archer began, caressing the fur on Little Brother's back. "I have stolen many things. I regret some of them, but not this horse." He patted the horse's rump, then leant his arm back on the post and watched the pony for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he began to speak again.
"I first saw him on a moor. He was fully tacked, being dragged around by a stupid old fart who thought this boy could pull a rusty cart carrying three stags and a water trough on his own. Of course he struggled. He's no Shire horse, I tell you." Archer shook his head, disgusted. "But he tried. He was underweight, and it was hardly decent hunting weather anyhow. I had nothing better to do, so I followed him. Turns out his owner hadn't been feeding him as punishment for going too slow. But that wasn't all."
Archer leant forward on the post and gestured so a few faint slash marks on Little Brother's rump.
"He'd been beating him. Not with a crop, or rope. But with a small tree branch."
He pointed to another series of slash marks, more around the pony's stomach.
"It hadn't been the first time, either. After a few times Little Brother eventually freaked out and escaped by breaking his harness. It took me weeks to finally earn his trust." Archer reached over and scratched the pony's withers, and he soon went still. Then, after a few moments, he straightened up and turned to Derek.
"A monster did this to him." He jerked a thumb bitterly towards the pony. "A monster gave him scars that he can never erase." He paused, then narrowed his eyes. "In more ways than one."
Turning back to Derek, Archer continued. "But those scars don't make him a monster." He patted Little Brother's wide rump. "Nor will they ever. And do you think he cares about them now? Do you think he cares about what they make him look like? He's still a horse." He shrugged. "A horse is a horse, right?"
Raising an eyebrow, William stared expectantly at his friend.
"Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"I am a thief, Derek." William stated bluntly, Derek watching nervously from a distance while he petted Little Brother's back, "I have stolen many things. I regret some of them, but not this horse." Of course, this would be about the horse. The stolen horse. He should have guessed. Derek was about to tell his friend, 'I don't want to hear it', but then Will began speaking, and as he started telling Little Brother's story, Derek felt his objections die on his lips. Humbled, he hid his hands in his pockets, and watched the pony with a cautiously curious gaze as William explained all that the poor animal had gone through. To endure starvation, overwork, and then to be beaten atop it all... It was certainly not a fate that Derek would wish upon any man... Or beast for that matter. He may have been afraid of horses, but he could still sympathize with Little Brother's suffering. Horse or not, he was a living animal, with thoughts and feelings, and pride to be hurt. Derek could relate to that...
"A monster did this to him." Will said bitterly, and Derek's eyes followed his pointing thumb to trace the scars just visible through the pony's thick coat, "A monster gave him scars that he can never erase. In more ways than one. But those scars don't make him a monster. Nor will they ever. And do you think he cares about them now? Do you think he cares about what they make him look like? He's still a horse."
Swallowing anxiously, Derek took a step forward, leaning hesitantly on the barrier between the stables as he studied Little Brother more closely, his own scars tinging slightly as he thought over what Will had said.
"A horse is a horse, right?"
Feeling Will's eyes burning into him, Derek nodded mutely in agreement. Yes, scarred or not, Little Brother was still a horse.
"Do you see what I'm getting at?" Will asked gently, and again, Derek nodded, secretly touched by his friend's actions. It was bizarre, of course, to compare a horse to a man, but it was William's eccentric nature that had always made him the brilliant man that he was. It was one of the things that Derek respected most about him. And, even as bizarre as the concept was, Derek understood the point that his friend was making, and he appreciated it more than he could ever explain. Just like the horse, he was scarred. But likewise, just like the horse was still a horse, Derek Argyle was still a man. A scarred man, yes, but a man nevertheless. In essence, he had not changed. The scars were only skin deep - it was merely the effect of them that ran deeper.
"Thank you, Will." Derek said at last, his voice gently hushed, and his eyes still trained on the pony quietly munching at his hay in the next stall. He reached up to push his unruly hair back into place, and when his fingers brushed his mask, he paused thoughtfully, feeling the painfully familiar chill of the porcelain.
Sighing quietly, he dropped his hand back to his side, and turned to face Will with an earnest gaze.
"Really... Thank you." He repeated softly, his expression deeply serious, "There are not many who share your open mind, but your acceptance, at least, means a lot." He slapped a heavy palm to Will's shoulder, gripping it firmly, and smiled as he said, "I've said it before, but... You're a good man, Will. And an even better friend."

"You're welcome." Archer replied, his eyes sparkling when he saw the gratitude in his friend's features. It may have taken a while, but at least they'd now got somewhere with each other. Telling Derek about Little Brother seemed to have opened his eyes somewhat, and he no longer looked quite so uncomfortable in the filthy room.
As if one 'thank you' wasn't enough. Derek continued. "Really... Thank you. There are not many who share your open mind, but your acceptance, at least, means a lot."
Archer grinned, evidently pleased with himself, and pulled himself up so he was sitting up on the slightly unstable post, leaning back on the pony for support. Little Brother didn't even flinch. "Thank you," he murmured to Derek. "I think..."
"I've said it before, but... You're a good man, Will. And an even better friend."
"I know." He replied with a slight swagger, shooting the man a cocky grin. Of course, he couldn't really agree with the 'good man' part, since he'd not exactly done enough to pay for his sins, but at least he knew how to be a good friend, and that was all that mattered. "And I'm glad you finally see my point. My next plan was to punch you, but knowing me," he pulled a face, "I'd probably end up missing my target and end up punching your mask, and that would cause me pain, which definitely isn't worth it."
He winked playfully, then gave his mount one last pat on the rump, then jumped down and started towards the door.
"Come on, I won't keep you any longer. I can tell you have things to do, and you probably don't want to smell of manure in the process." He teased, then turned to one of the stable boys.
"Give me a shout if he stirs any more trouble, okay?"
The boy frowned at his informality. "Yes, sir."
He nodded mutely at them, then waved Derek to the door.

"I know." Archer replied cockily, causing Derek to narrow his eyes in mock annoyance, "And I'm glad you finally see my point. My next plan was to punch you, but knowing me I'd probably end up missing my target and end up punching your mask, and that would cause me pain, which definitely isn't worth it." Derek rolled his eyes, and gave Will a playful shove. "Don't ever punch me." He warned, elbowing his friend in the side, "Especially in the face. I could have your head chopped off for that."
And the funny thing was, that was true.
His friend shot him a playful wink, and Derek responded with a smile, stepping back when Archer pushed away from the pony, and walked over to him, evidently ready to go. "Come on, I won't keep you any longer." His friend said pleasantly, "I can tell you have things to do, and you probably don't want to smell of manure in the process."
With a grateful smile, Derek headed toward the door, then paused while Archer exchanged a few words with the stable boy. Soon enough his friend returned to his side, and the pair left the stables together.
"You know..." Derek mused thoughtfully, "I could probably shirk my responsibilities a little longer..." He shot Will a sideways glance, smirking slightly, "The ship can sail without me, I'm sure. What do you say we relax for a while?"

Archer noticed something in his friend's tone the minute they left the stables. He raised an eyebrow at Derek's amused facial expression - or at least the half he could see - and found himself smiling at the sight. That moral lesson he'd just given must have really opened his eyes.
"I could probably shirk my responsibilities a little longer..." Derek purred, and Archer felt his jaw drop. Did Derek seriously just say he was going to bend the rules?
"The ship can sail without me, I'm sure. What do you say we relax for a while?"
"We what?" Archer teased. "Did I hear that right? You want to- I'm shocked." He placed a hand dramatically on his chest. Then chuckled and jerked his head towards the stairs to the corridor where their quarters would be.
He jogged coolly up the stairs and hooked a hand in his belt, glanced around curiously, then turned to his friend and murmured, "Actually, now that you've mentioned it, I would kill for a bath. I think that river I washed in last night had something rotting in it." He lifted a pinchful of his shirt to his nose then dropped it back down with a look of distaste. "Besides, you still need to update me on the last twelve years, my friend." He began walking, grinned and asked, "What have I missed?"

"Oh, shush." Derek shot back with a laugh, "Even I relax sometimes, you know... Well, I'm going to start, anyway." Casting his friend a smile, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, then strode on to their room, only half-listening while Will prattled on about baths and foul-smelling river water.
"Besides, you still need to update me on the last twelve years, my friend." Will reminded him, finally turning his attention away from his stinking shirt and back to Derek, "What have I missed?"
Not answering right away, Derek opened the door to their room and waved Will in ahead of him, then closed it behind them.
"What have you missed?" He repeated thoughtfully, "Well, considering it was half my life... Not much." He shrugged, "You could say I spent the majority of the time... Recovering." He paused awkwardly, still seeming uncomfortable at the memory, then shuddered slightly and went on, "But after that, I got involved in the more political side of things. I took on the role of passing judgement on death row prisoners... It is far from pleasant, but," He sighed, "Unfortunately, it is necessary. At least it gives me a chance to save innocent lives too, albeit at a cost to my own well-being." He rolled his eyes, "It has been twelve years of stress, pressure and responsibility. I missed having you around to cut me some slack..." He offered Will a mild smile as he sat wearily down on the bed, and added with surprising honesty, "The truth is, I'm tired of toeing the line. It's been twelve years. I think I deserve a break." He chuckled, rubbing his hair absentmindedly, and leaving it in that scruffy fashion that so suited him, despite his constant attempts to keep it greased back.
"And what about you, huh? It's to be hoped you've lived a more exciting life than I have. Do you care to share any stories about it?"
He patted the bed beside him encouragingly, gesturing for Will to sit down. His expression had softened, and he even seemed relaxed for a change. The change in him was gradual, but it was coming. One thing was certain: He was over the moon about having his old friend at his side once more, even if it was taking some getting used to.

William entered the room and kicked off his boots, then climbed up to his bed and began massaging his aching feet. He'd not even been walking long, but he'd travelled so much that it didn't matter how much he did now. He hissed in a breath as his fingers his a blister and bit back a curse as Derek started speaking about the events of the past twelve years.
He had to admit, it was a very morbid story. Will thought he'd had it bad, living rough on the streets and all, but actually, back home things hadn't really been much better. Despite their differences - especially with finance - they'd actually been on a similar boat to each other the whole time.
"It has been twelve years of stress, pressure and responsibility. I missed having you around to cut me some slack..."
Will felt his heart warm at this. Of course he was guilty for not finding about his friend sooner, but it was sobering to find out someone was better off with him in his life. It made a change from the usual, at least.
"The truth is, I'm tired of toeing the line. It's been twelve years. I think I deserve a break." Derek murmured, brushing his hair back as he usually did, except this time a few strands fell forward in a casual fashion that seemed to suit him. In the same way the 'bedhead' look suited Archer, anyway.
"So do I." Archer commented, dangling his feet down over the bottom bunk only a foot or so away from Derek's face. "And I'm rather enjoying it, to be honest."
"And what about you, huh? It's to be hoped you've lived a more exciting life than I have. Do you care to share any stories about it?"
Archer leant forward to look under his bunk to see Derek patting the bed beside him, and jumped down to the floor and sat down. He had to admit, he enjoyed spending time with his friend. And now, unlike when they were boys, there was no curfew, no worrying about Derek's father or being home in time for supper. They could just stay in and... Chill. He'd missed that.
"Not really." Archer said honestly, leaning back on the bed and folding his hands behind his head. "But since you've played along I might as well." He paused for thought, scrunching his mouth to one side of his face, and inhaled a long breath. What had he been doing for the past twelve years?
"Well... I joined a few outlaw gangs for a bit, decided it wasn't for me and crawled out on my hands and knees..." He spoke flatly, as if he were discussing the weather. "Got beaten by a castle guard for stealing food from the market, befriended a fisherman, watched him die by the hands of someone I thought I could have trusted, but was actually a member of one of the outlaw gangs I'd been part of as a boy..." He frowned for a moment, then shuddered. "But I don't really want to talk about that."
He lifted up his legs and began to climb them up the bars of the top bunk, until he was nearly able to do a backwards roll off the bed, then released them onto the mattress.
"Let's see..." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Got arrested countless times for stupid reasons, escaped, stole a horse, lost it, stole another horse, lost it, found Little Brother, slept with the Duchess of York..."
He grinned at the last one, then brought a finger to his lips silently, his lips miming a cheeky 'sh'. If anyone found out about that, he would be tortured in the most horrifying of ways, since she would obviously not admit to her own husband that she knowingly committed adultery. But hey, it wouldn't have been as thrilling if there wasn't such an obvious risk, would there?

Derek yawned when Will sat down beside him, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his fists. Then he leaned back on his hands, and listened patiently as his old friend began telling him a new story - one that he had not been a part of.
He had to admit, Will's life certainly did not sound like an easy one. Living on the other side of the law must have been rough, because he knew better than anybody just how strict the law could be. Frankly, from what Will told him, he was shocked that the man was still alive. It was remarkable to think that he had escaped the law so many times.
Derek's expression softened in sympathy when Will mentioned the friend that he had lost, and he did not press when his friend decided to drop the subject. Instead he just watched silently while Will distracted himself by clowning around on the bed, looking every inch the easily-distracted and overly-energetic child he had once been. Derek glanced away to hide his smirk, shaking his head in fond amusement.
Even after facing so much adversary, you never change. Not really.
At last, Will flopped back down beside him, and took on a considerably lighter tone as he went on, "Let's see... Got arrested countless times for stupid reasons, escaped, stole a horse, lost it, stole another horse, lost it, found Little Brother, slept with the Duchess of York..."
Derek's eyebrows shot up at the last one, but with a mimed hushing gesture from Will, he just rolled his eyes and shot his friend a scolding half-smile. "You do realize," He said with mock threat, "That you're confessing all this to somebody who could have your head lobbed off for it, right? Maybe I should write it down in case you piss me off again?" His one eyebrow quirked teasingly upwards, showing a hint of the sense of humour that seemed otherwise lost to him.
Smiling and shaking his head, Derek looked away, then added more seriously, "Times have been tough, haven't they? It isn't right that we've had to take on the world alone... Sort of goes against our childhood plans, doesn't it?" He cast his friend a sideways glance, half smiling at the thought of the innocent conversations they'd had as kids, always vowing to be together forever, no matter what befell either of them. Things had certainly changed since then, but Derek could still relate to the feelings of his childhood self. Even then, as a grown man, the thought of letting 'his' Will face the world alone was not a pleasant one.

Archer couldn't help but grin at Derek's expression. Honestly, for one moment the look of approval looked like it belonged on the face of a strict parent. Then again, sometimes that was what Derek was like to him. ((...Bit weird. O_o)) That one person to tell him when enough was enough.
"You do realise," Derek began, although he was smirking. "That you're confessing all this to somebody who could have your head lobbed off for it, right? Maybe I should write it down in case you piss me off again?"
Archer let out a bark of laughter. "That's true." He shrugged, unconcerned by this, and just folded his hands coolly behind his head. "But I don't regret it, specially with the Duchess. Her husband's an ugly old trout, anyway. Not to mention that he looks twice her age."
Plus, she was deprived of some decent company. He thought to himself, smirking at the memory. She may have been a good five or ten years older than he was, but damn it all, she was one beautiful woman. If slightly desperate.
"Times have been tough, haven't they? It isn't right that we've had to take on the world alone... Sort of goes against our childhood plans, doesn't it?" Archer glanced at his friend with a questioning eyebrow arched upwards, wondering when the mood had gone so serious again. Although, Derek had spent twelve years being serious, he guessed it wasn't too unusual.
Sighing, he stared up at the bars of the bunk bed above him. "Yeah well... Reality got in the way, I guess." He mused, frowning to himself. It certainly had. They'd gone down their separate paths, neither more pleasant than the other, but through some miracle they had found each other again. As much as Archer didn't believe in miracles, it had been amazing that he'd been reunited with his childhood friend once again.
"I'm glad we found each other again, though." He rolled on his side to watch his friend seriously, his shaggy hair just long enough to flop over his brow and tickle his eyelids. "Really, Derek. In all honesty, I've missed you." He smirked slightly. "Even if you can be an old man sometimes," He teased, kicking his friend playfully in the back.

"Hmph." Derek huffed irritably, "So I'm an old man now, huh?" He shook his head, faintly amused, and admitted with a smirk, "I guess you're right. But you're just a big kid," He shoved Will's shoulder playfully, "So you can't really talk, can you? At least we balance each other out."
Derek smiled mellowly, feeling rather pleased to hear again how much his friend had missed him, and flopped back on the bed, arms folded behind his head. He was feeling truly relaxed for the first time in years, and he could not even express how relieving it was. It really was about time.
"I'll tell you what, Will..." He mumbled, staring up at the bed above him, "I'm getting pretty sick of being, as you put it," He shot his friend a glance, "An 'old man'. I reckon it's about time I started living again, don't you?" He was looking rather optimistic at this point, but wistfully so. Much as he liked the idea of 'living', he understood that it was not a reality. He had too much responsibility, and too important a burden... There was just no chance of getting away.

"You might as well be." William grinned. "You even sound like one sometimes, Derek."
"I guess you're right. But you're just a big kid," Will chuckled as he was shoved playfully, not at all ashamed at the comparison. If Derek was an old man, then yes. Archer was a child.In his eyes, there was nothing wrong with that. "So you can't really talk, can you? At least we balance each other out."
He couldn't argue with that.
When Derek flopped on the bed beside him, arms folded behind his head, William turned his head to study the man for a moment. They were very close now. Perhaps too close for comfort. The bed was a narrow one, and if Will shifted his weight just slightly away from Derek he would topple off the bed and onto the hard floor. Will fidgeted on the spot for a few moments, then sat up and cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I'll tell you what, Will...I'm getting pretty sick of being, as you put it, an 'old man'. I reckon it's about time I started living again, don't you?"
Archer climbed up onto his upper bunk and sat facing the room. Then, grasping the two bars on each side of the bed he fell backwards so he was dangling upside down, his dark red hair hanging loosely towards the ground, his blue eyes sparkling. "I don't see why not." He murmured with a comically serious expression. Then, twisting his arms around, he dropped his feet in a semi-flip onto the floor, and landed with a slightly winded look.
As Derek had confirmed, he was like a child. He couldn't help it, he just didn't like sitting still.
"So tell me," he wandered across the room and fumbled around nosily at Derek's bags, then retrieved his sword and began to examine it curiously. "This island your wife lives on... How is it? Nice spot?"
He pointed the sword at an imaginary target, then began to wield it and wave it in a playful fashion, chopping up his imaginary victim into a hundred small pieces.

Derek watched with pitying amusement as his friend clowned around - crawling and climbing over every inch of the bunk bed like a hyperactive child. It amused him how utterly accurate his description of Will had been... He truly was just like an overgrown child. Chortling to himself, Derek grinned cheerfully toward his friend, feeling truly happy and carefree for the first time in years. Will's little speech in the stable really had helped him to see things from an entirely new perspective, at least for the time being. One man, at least, felt neither afraid of nor repulsed by his appearance. And if he had William's approval, then the opinions of others were rendered moot by comparison.
"So tell me," Will's voice piped up, plucking Derek out of his thoughts and pulling him back to reality, "This island your wife lives on... How is it? Nice spot?"
Derek's eyes narrowed, and he watched with bored patience while Will scratched shamelessly through his belongings - finally selecting his sword, and starting to wave it around like a toddler with a sharp stick.
"I don't know." He answered distractedly, watching his friend, "I've never been there. And besides, she's my fiance, not my wife. Don't go slapping the shackles on me too soon, now." He offered a slightly bitter smile of amusement, then shrugged off his gloomy thoughts and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
"Your stance is terrible." He informed his friend bluntly, "You're so full of openings, I could turn you into a pin-cushion in seconds."
He winked, taking the sting from his words, then shamelessly grabbed Archer's sword - albeit heavier and more dinged than his own - from his scruffy pile of belongings.
"Here," He said, raising the blade into a nearly flawless defensive stance, "Spar with me. It may come in useful one day to have a more refined sword-fighting technique."

Archer grinned, not taking his eyes off his imaginary target. "Fiancée and wife are the same thing to me. Both include loyalty, which we both know is something I don't do when it comes to women."
He swung the sword again, feeling Derek's watchful eyes burning into the side of his head. Feeling as if he needed to show off his skills, he spun the sword around playfully in his hand, switching his grip to the other, then back, then prodded his victim dramatically where the chest would be. He looked like a musketeer from a drama production.
"Your stance is terrible." Derek said finally. "You're so full of openings, I could turn you into a pin-cushion in seconds."
"And your as sour as a lemon." Archer replied, shooting the man a bored glare. "What's your point?"
Instead of answering, Derek strolled over to Archer's bag and took his sword, then stood opposite him with his sword raised skilfully, ready to fight. "Spar with me. It may come in useful one day to have a more refined sword-fighting technique."
Archer frowned at him, at first giving off the impression that he was wounded by Derek's words. Then, raising the sword limply until it was level with Derek's throat, he asked, "Are you challenging me, sir?" Raising an eyebrow his mouth tugged cheekily upwards at one side, and he winked at his opponent.
With no warning but a sharp intake of breath he struck his weapon towards Derek's shoulder, then his waist, then towards his opposite knee. Each time he didn't manage to so much as scratch his friend's clothing, as Derek blocked him every time.
Unsurprised, Archer took a step back, a strand of hair falling over and tickling his eyelid. He flicked it away with a brief motion of his head. "You know, I'm not 'knight in shining armour', but I warn you, I do have some moves." He warned, smiling darkly, wrapping both hands around the thick handle of Derek's sword, and he struck again with all his might towards his friend, not once taking his eyes off the target.

"Are you challenging me, sir?" Will teased, and Derek responded with a twinkle in his eye, "Maybe I am." He easily parried the blows that Will sent at him, and instantly lifted his sword back into its defensive position. Will pulled back a step, and said confidently, "You know, I'm no 'knight in shining armour', but I warn you, I do have some moves."
"Oh, no doubt." Derek replied, speaking like a parent pacifying an insistent child, "Show me, then."
As if on cue, Will stabbed the sword toward him, and Derek grunted with effort as he blocked the blow, staggering back a step from the force of it. It was true that Will had talent, and a fair deal more than Derek, but what he lacked in raw talent, he more than made up for in high-level training and a decent amount of skill.
"Loosen your hips." Derek said as he aimed a sneaky jab at Will's side, letting the tip of the blade nip at his clothes, "And keep your eyes on the sword. You're always on the offensive when you fight, and that's how you'll let people slip past your guard. Don't forget to defend, and as always, watch your footing. That was your fatal flaw last time." Derek winked at Archer, and after parrying a few of his blows, he managed to slip past the man's guard to tap him lightly with the flat side of the blade across his midriff.

They sparred for a while, Derek instructing and guiding his friend gladly, and after nearly an hour of good-natured battling, Archer knocked the blade right out of Derek's hands with a well-aimed strike.
"Okay, okay, you win." Derek laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Nice one."
He dropped Archer's sword back where he had found it, then turned his attention back to his friend.
"Good job." He praised, smiling warmly, "I won't be crossing blades with you again if I can help it..."

Archer was so proud of himself for the reaction Derek had to his attack that he wasn't prepared for the sharp prod in the ribs, and he jumped away in surprise, rubbing his side with a quiet grumble.
Oh, it's on.
Frowning in concentration, Archer focussed completely on his stance and tried to plan out his attacks before he acted on them, and took Derek's words into account despite his pride. He couldn't help it, there was something about Derek's tone that made him want to impress the man, even just a little bit, and he'd never felt like that before. Being an outlaw, he'd never really needed to impress anyone before.
After an hour of flat out fighting - and some patronising pokes in the stomach on Derek's part - Archer was surprised to find his technique improve dramatically, even when he began to tire, or get frustrated from being beaten so easily. In fact, when he concentrated more on his foot work and protecting himself as Derek had instructed, he found it much easier, when he did attack, to be more precise with his blows.
Eventually, after a number of failures and until sweat was dripping off his forehead, he finally reached the victorious moment when he struck his opponent's sword so strongly that it fell out of Derek's grip, and Archer wrapped both hands around the sword and pointed it at Derek's chest, poking it cheekily.
"Touché." He murmured, lips twitching into a tired smirk.
Derek raised his hands in defeat, murmuring a faint word of approval as he turned away to put Archer's own sword back where it belonged, and when he turned back, he was smiling. "Good job. I won't be crossing blades with you again if I can help it..."
"I'd hope not." Archer replied smugly, spinning the sword skilfully in one hand then took a step forward and stabbed it in the floorboards, millimetres from the ball of Derek's foot. Leaning coolly against the handle, he grinned at his friend, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his hooded jumper. "That being said, you're not too bad yourself, Derek." He winked, then plucked the sword out of the ground, spun it round and offered it - handle side first - back to Derek with a one-sided smirk.
"I'd not want to run into you on a dark night when running from the law."

Derek flinched despite himself when Archer stabbed the floor next to his foot, and for a moment he looked slightly shaken, as though he had actually expected his friend to stab him. It was unsettling to have a blade pointed at him when he stood unarmed. Taking a step away from the sword, Derek rubbed the sweat from the visible side of his face, and glanced at Archer as he said, "That being said, you're not too bad yourself, Derek." He plucked the sword out of the floorboards, and offered it back to Derek, who grasped it by the handle in a haughty fashion, and turned to replace it in its scabbard.
"I'd not want to run into you on a dark night when running from the law."
After fussing with his sword for a moment, Derek turned and responded with a hint of amusement, "Then for God's sake, William, don't go stealing my bloody coins." He smirked at the memory of their meeting, then flashed a wink and patted Will roughly on the cheek.
When he turned away, the gash in the floor caught his attention, and he frowned as he prodded at it with the end of his boot.
"Ah..." He sighed, "You're far too careless, you know. I'm going to get blamed for that... And if this ship sinks, it'll be entirely your fault."
He sat down heavily on the bed, and casually lobbed a pillow at Will's head, then flopped over backwards, lying perpendicular to the bed with his feet still on the floor.
Feeling peacefully relaxed at last after their sparring session, he watched absentmindedly as a little spider scurried over the underside of the bed above him, building a little web between the wooden slats.
Always so busy... Derek mused silently, That was me, about a day ago... But damn does it feel good to cut loose again!

"Then for God's sake, William, don't go stealing my bloody coins."
Archer grinned proudly at his achievement of that day, even though he'd been half drowned and nearly lost his hand in the process of that sword fight. For a first meeting, it hadn't gone too well. But he couldn't help but smile at the memory.
"I'm not making any promises," he teased, winking cheekily at his friend. "It's who I am."
He knew Derek hated him using that excuse, which was exactly why he used it. Of course he would never steal from his best friend if he wanted to keep his head, but it didn't mean that he didn't enjoy annoying the Hell out of the man.
He scrunched his face in distaste as Derek patted him annoyingly on the cheek, and he pushed Derek's hand away in mock irritation. He wasn't a puppy, he didn't need petting.
Derek turned away and studied the stab mark in the floor with a look of distaste. Archer crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. Was Derek going to scold him again?
"You're far too careless, you know. I'm going to get blamed for that... And if this ship sinks, it'll be entirely your fault."
What?
He was about to argue, then he saw the amusement in his friend's eyes and couldn't help but grin. He watched the man wander over to the bed and fling himself on it, then lob a pillow in Archer's direction. He dodged it thinly, then blinked stupidly at his friend. Did Derek really just do that for fun?
Surprised, Archer followed the man hesitantly to the bed, then climbed up onto the top bunk. "Well that's not very nice." He murmured, swinging his feet in a child-like fashion over the bed by Derek's face. "Besides, I'm not the one who paid for this room." He leant back on the bed, sighing contently, and folded his arms behind his head. Then, when he mistakenly took a whiff of his underarms he pulled a face and sat up sharply.
"I need a bath."
He jumped off the bed and ran a hand dramatically through his greasy hair, then strolled away towards the bathroom.
"I might spare the rose petals, though." He murmured, shooting Derek a cheeky look. "I don't really want to get beaten up for smelling like you." He winked, then ran off to the bathroom before Derek could throw a knife in his direction.

Derek rolled his eyes and scoffed at his friend, then shot back defensively, "I'd rather smell like roses than a drain, William."
Unfortunately, his snide comment was lost, because Will had already vanished into the bathroom to bathe. Shrugging, Derek rolled over, shifting around to make himself comfortable on the bed. He was really enjoying just slacking off for once, and though he felt bad for shirking his responsibilities, he honestly had no intention of leaving his room for the rest of the day. So he didn't.

A few days passed, and though Derek and Will enjoyed one another's company for the most part, though they did clash on occasion - mostly when Will was stirring up trouble, or when Derek was so stressed that he ended up unintentionally taking it out on his friend. Still, the dynamic of their relationship had shifted for the better, and by the time they arrived in Thornston Village, they were actually getting along.
Unfortunately, when the time came to depart from the ship, Derek soon began to fall into a strange sense of despondency. His impending marriage brought him no joy, but rather acted as a dark cloud hanging over his head, and it showed. He was truly discontent with the direction that his life was heading in, but he did nothing to fight it, and just accepted his fate with gritted teeth.

The days went by, sometimes they flew and other times they dragged on like a dog's itchy backside against a rug. Derek changed moods regularly, and it was evident that the marriage was haunting him somewhat, and Archer was beginning to be more interested in the thought of Derek's new wife than his friend. Still, he knew how to lighten the mood - at least for himself - and took some enjoyment in causing trouble for Derek for his own amusement. When Derek's mood was sour, he would just hang out in the stables and chat to the stable boys like long lost friends until the other man had calmed down.
When the morning came that they arrived on the new soil, the atmosphere was heavy enough for even Little Brother to be out of sorts. The three stepped off the ship and studied the village mixture of expressions. Derek looked ready to vomit, Archer was grinning ear-to-ear, and Little Brother was damn near close to falling asleep on his feet.
"The weather's not bad here, is it?" Archer tried pathetically, then shrugged when Derek didn't respond. They shared a mutual understanding of the situation, but it didn't make the atmosphere any easier to cope with.
"Come on, Derek." Archer scolded, rolling his eyes, and nudged his friend firmly in the side. "Quit sucking lemons and let's find a ruddy inn, shall we? I need to get my snooty boots on for the meeting later on. Don't want to be thrown out for looking like an outlaw." He tugged on Little Brother's reins to catch his attention, and clucked him forward. Archer glanced at Derek again, scowling at his friend's fowl mood, and added, "If you're going to be in this mood all day then do everyone a favour and have a pint of something before the meeting. Please." He waited a moment, then lifted his lips in a reassuring smile.
"Hey, you're both going to be in the same boat, here."
He glanced at the ship behind them, smirked, and added cheekily, "No pun intended."