Owner	Pose
Menel	There's a certain tenseness in the air, a thrum of anticipation as to men in the center of the room stand perfectly still. Both are clad in pure white with a fencers helmet covering their heads. Epee's stand at the ready. A single voice calls out the words that begin the match and yet for another long moment there is nothing but silence. Then suddenly one of the fighters breaks forward and they're both moving. The smaller of the two darts in for a quick attack that's immediately met with a riposte. This does not land either, but the larger of the two men takes the momentary advantage to let loose a flurry of blows that ends when suddenly a voice calls out again. The two dart backwards from one another as though they are drawn on strings. A moment later when the match is called there is polite clapping. The two fighters pull of their hoods and one of them - the winner - is a young man with stark white hair and eyes the color of the sky when the sun is out. He grins and shakes the hand of his opponent, gracious in his victory. Then the two fighters are freed to mingle with the guests.
Doctor Doom	It's not often Doom gets out to just... relax, but with some recent developments he's taking the time to do just that. So when he heard about a certain fencing competition, he decided to take in the show and enjoy the talent on display. Of course, he tends to be highly conspicuous wherever he goes, so it's probably not gone unnoticed that he's in attendance. Regardless, the man remains aloof from the other attendees, as most if not all of them are beneath his attention. No, the only one actually worth his attention is one of the fencers here today. Doom allows this man - Menel - to mingle for a bit with the other patrons. However, when he decides it is /his/ time to greet the fencer, he brooks little interference. Mind you, it is not that he's boorish in his manners. Quite the opposite; Victor Von Doom makes his approach. His appearance alone is enough to make people move away from him. And when they do not, he intones undercurrents of command beneath a very polite, "Excuse me." or "Pardon." as he makes his way there. And when he is? He tells Menel what he thinks. "Your form is excellent, and shows both talent and skill. I commend you."
Menel	The swordsman is friendly and polite to those that come up to talk to him, making small-talk and then moving on to the next person when that one grows board and decides they'd rather talk to someone else. Such is the course of such events and it's something that the young man seems quite accustomed to even at a distance. The swordsman has his back to a wall, and it's clear from the way he answers questions that he's aware of everyone who approaches him. This goes perhaps doubly for the man known as Doom. Either from his appearance, his demeanor, or simply the fact that he's made his way through the others whom politely or for other reasons make their way away from the two now. Menel's blue eyes flicker briefly toward the last departing individual, but it's clear that Doom has his attention. "Thank you." Menel scrubs a hand through his white hair and offers that friendly grin of his which also seems to say that the complement embarrasses him somewhat. "Do you know much of fencing sir, or is this your first event?"
Doctor Doom	"It is a rarity that I am able to attend events such as these; I'm no stranger to the arts martial, but fencing is... all too often a luxury. When I must fight, it is oft with brawlers and ruffians. Rarely is it a duel of such refinement." Doom says in a tone of aristocratic civility. "How long have you practiced?" He wonders then, taking a brief moment to look out across the room; it's a thing he does with relative frequency, as though he never quite trusts those around him.
Menel	Menel nods, finding agreement with the other man's statements. Though there's something else there too, a flicker of interest that blooms into active interest. He starts to say something, but then comes Doom's question and Menel lets out a little chuckle. "I've been fencing since I was five, so some twenty years give or take." Blue eyes slide over the other man and it's with a more aprasing gaze than before. "If you do not mind my asking... Oh!" Suddenly Menel offers his hand to the man standing before him, it's an offer made with the sort of give and take that suggests he won't be offended if it's not taken. "My name is Menel Dinmorin by the way, I know they announce our names but it seems rude not to introduce myself just the same."
Doctor Doom	Doctor Doom does not shake hands, but he is not without civility. "Victor Von Doom." he says. Yes, /that/ Von Doom. The notorious Doctor who is supposedly a villain and dictator of a small country called Latveria. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Menel Dinmorin. And of course you may ask, though I reserve the right not to answer." There is a levity to his tone, suggesting he says so in good humor. "What is your question?"
Menel	The swordsman blinks once in surprise that splashes across his features for a few seconds. Clearly it's not every day that he meets the leader of a country. Even the one of a small country. Much less one that's as well known as this man before him. Still, he forges ahead with his question. "I was curious about your marshal experience. I don't meet many of the benefactors of these events that actually know anything of combat. Much less actively fight themselves. So, if you don't mind answering - what kind of fighting do you have experience in?" There's real curiosity and interest there that stems from more than just professional curiosity.
Doctor Doom	Doctor Doom doesn't mind explaining this at all. "As you may know, I lead the revolution of my beloved Latveria against the corrupt, oppressive former regime to liberate my people, and have engaged in battle against some of the more well known threats against our earth." "Lesser known, however, is that I have also fought against incursions from other dimensions as well as other worlds, and continue to do so as they make themselves known. So as you might now understand, there is simplicity and refinement in fencing. It is a matter of skill and natural ability; honed senses, trained reflexes, learned responses. The one who has mastered these things wins naturally." He sighs then, "Against the threats I often face, it is less so. One must have power; physical might, mystical might, mental fortitude, and arcane knowledge from the furthest reaches of not only our own reality, but wherever one might find it. Sacrifices must be made for these things. There is refinement to be found, but oft it is a base struggle for one's life and soul."
Menel	Menel finds himself nodding in agreement once again, listening intently to the other man's words which wax eloquently. Far more so than his own words which are by nature simple and direct. "That sounds both exhilarating and exhausting." He flashes a grin. "I have found it to be true though, as you say. A fight for one's life against whatever force is rarely as, well I wouldn't use the word refined, but fighting - real fighting - is much more direct than something done for sport." Spoken like someone who's been in their fair share of fights that didn't happen inside the rules and regulations of a fencing match. He's looking at Victor again, not the same measuring gaze as before but a different one. "Tell me if you will - which are you finding it of late? Exciting, or tiring?"
Doctor Doom	Doctor Doom looks in a very particular direction, at seemingly nothing at all, and intones with some hint of menace, "Exasperating, and a bit infuriating." His pleasant demeanor returns soon enough, and the man proceeds with, "But if you ever hear that tripe that blathers on about change what you can, accept what you can't... Know they are words of the weak willed. Never submit, learn from defeat, and rise up to conquer everything that dares stand in your path."
Menel	The swordsman laughs, a good sound that invites others to join in. It'd be easy to laugh with that laugh. "Here, I could offer the same advice. There's no danger of giving up from me. One doesn't get to where I am if they can't take the hits and keep on swinging, but then I suspect from your words that you know yourself." Indeed. Across the room the other fencer waves to Menel and the swordsman waves back, his blue eyes never leaving Doom. "It seems it's time for me to get out of my gear. If you're still here when I'm done, I'd love to chat with you some more. Either way have a good evening." Menel offers the other man a brief nod that's almost a bow, but done without his eyes ever really lowering.