A neutral face was an indiscernible one. Ordric could not help but feel as though she was scrutinizing him, like a cat presented with a bowl of dry food pellets and a bowl of wet chicken-based food.

Paired with that statement, he can't really turn that down.

"If you insist."

He draws the first arrow from the standing quiver, nocks it gingerly to the bow, fitting the back of the arrow against the bowstring. He draws it back, straightens his back, arm straight, eye patch on because in this particular situation, having it off would be cheating. The arrow whizzes through the air, hitting the blue 6 ring 20 degrees above the target's radius.

Ordric lowers the bow back to his side. "Mm, better luck next time I suppose."

artemis

(I just remembered you fit the back of the arrow to the drawstring and was so embarrassed that I had to correct myself via mobile)

He should have known that trying to pull a fast one over an Olympian who spent tens of thousands of years with a bow in hand was not a very good idea. He responds with a sheepish smile and, "I'll bear that in mind."

Of course, striking the bear down with a bow and arrow would never have been the plan. Catching the creature in a time warp and slowing it enough so that someone strong enough could haul it away was cleaner and probably more P.R.-worthy for the Initiative. There was always the other option of increasing the likelihood of the bear losing interest in the city to turn back to whence it came too.

Bullets existed too, but it was a last resort and Ordric didn't typically carry one around with him anyways.

He balances his recurve bow on its stand and nods at Artemis. "I've done my share."

After all, it wasn't every day that you had a front row seat to observing a master of archery.

artemis

This is what an expert looks like. Ordric arches a brow as Artemis' arrow lodges itself beside his. "Not bad," he says, which is a complete understatement.

One presumes that a ten-thousand-year-old Olympian would have had plenty of time to practice. Still, experts were formed out of nurtured talent and not out of thin air, no mater how hard one tried.

"Even after all those years with bow in hand, you still find yourself at an archery range?"

Surely, practicing something as natural as breathing would eventually become tedious.

artemis

"Fair enough." Ordric didn't take walks. If anything, he was a napper.

With that much time on one's hands, there was probably plenty to do. Granted, he could artificially stretch time but that was different territory. On the other hand, he wasn't sure what he would do with that kind of a lifespan.

"Mine?" Only after those words leave his mouth does he realize that Artemis is likely referring to humanity as a whole. "You've handled a bow all your life. Is there a need to know how to use one?"

artemis

"Probably both," Ordric says in response to Artemis' comment about the deaths of children. "Whether it's one or the other isn't for me to decide."

There is a reason why he is not in politics.

And that's how it's always been. One might consider it dull to simply follow orders and have their fate laid bare before them, but Ordric preferred it. After all, it was less of a headache for him, and he'd already accepted long ago that he would be means to an end.

artemis

It's an interesting question. He goes through each one of Artemis' options. It was far from a liability, but not exactly a necessity. There were other things that could get the job done. And speaking of jobs, it was difficult to say, and "lifestyle" was a difficult one because he didn't think he really had one.

"A preference, I suppose." Ordric replies. "It's cleaner for me. Knives are messy and bows aren't exactly inconspicuous." Sometimes being detached from the targets wasn't always a bad thing. "Personal" kills would slow him down.

He glances at the empty quiver in Artemis' lane. "How many of those do you burn through during a single session?"

artemis