Difference between revisions of "526/Road to Recovery"

Latest revision as of 04:42, 2 September 2014

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Dusk has fallen over the castle of Dun Realtai, the quaint mediaeval-style stronghold that Emiya Shirou had quite literally dropped into not so long ago. As the sky darkens and the stars gleam in the night sky, smoke rises from the chimney of the inn... and also from the castle keep, as well.

Although patchy snow lies on the ground, the season is autumn. The wind carries a bite to it, and though the sky is almost dazzlingly clear, it is intensely cold. Most honest folk have retired to their homes for the evening.

Well... except for one.

Torches illuminate the courtyard of Dun Realtai's central keep, as well as the village path leading up to the castle atop the hill. The walls are a tumbledown mess, so the distant tundra is visible from the courtyard itself.

Standing just outside the keep's door is none other than the lord of the land himself. Sir Bedivere of Dun Realtai is a tall man, pale of complexion, with silvery blonde hair draw into two half-braided queues and faded violet eyes. He wears the warm winter clothing of a commoner, though draped over his shoulders is a heavy, fur-trimmed, blue-mantled white cloak. It looks exceedingly warm. Clutched delicately in his bare hands is a teacup, whose contents are billowing steam into the cold night air.

The knight seems calm, watching the village and central boulevard with his eyes half-hooded, as though he were waiting for something... or someone. He doesn't look worried, precisely, but perhaps a little discontent.

Funny how her absence bothers him. He takes a thoughtful sip of his tea, regarding the path. Such a thing had never bothered him before. Often she would send him across the length and breadth of Albion on dangerous errands vital to the kingdom, yet he had never been particularly disturbed, then. Yet she had requested that he remain here and rest and, in her absence, he finds himself restless as a caged tiger.

Bedivere sighs, glancing down at his tea.

He's going to have to find some kind of constructive work to do this week... before he starts climbing the walls.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    When Shirou dropped in on Arturia, he ended up having to get a change of clothes that fit the locale... and weren't sopping wet. He's now in them again, and has slung a sack over his back carrying his very meager assortment of other belongings in the area.

    He's come from the warp gate and is walking straight towards the Keep. Though, he takes note of the construction work that's occured since he last saw the place... not long ago, really.

    Assuming nobody stops him, he walks calmly into the courtyard, taking a breath of fresh air. Only a few moments later does he notice Bedivere over by the door.

    The Knight's given a questioning look, not unlike the one he aimed at Saber... but this one with far less awe.

    He's just confused. Is that a guy, or a girl?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Movement on the path ahead is what draws the knight's attention; although there are plenty of torches lighting the way, the shadows are still long and stark, dancing in the inconstant flame. It's very noticeable for one who spends their time noticing the things others miss.

Slowly, Bedivere turns his head to regard the boy approaching from the foot of the hill. For half a skipped heartbeat he almost thinks his king may have returned a bit early, but the figure is too tall, and the hair isn't the right colour. As Shirou draws closer, it's obvious that it isn't the one he's waiting for. She had left on her motorcycle, too; she would not have returned without it, or without the supplies she had said she would bring back.

He frowns, though the expression is subtle. This boy seems dressed as one of the villagers below, although he must certainly look the same -- save the fine cloak, which very obviously doesn't belong to a commoner. Closer, there are details Shirou might be able to spot about the knight. His right arm is still in a sling, and there are deep shadows under his eyes, suggesting a lack of sleep. Perhaps Arturia might notice they're fading, but it's still blatantly obvious to outsiders that the knight is in desperate need of sleep.

When Shirou gets close enough that Bedivere can see his face, the silver-haired knight's frown deepens, and he tilts his head thoughtfully. Although he doesn't know everyone in the village personally, he's familiar with many of them. This boy doesn't match anyone's description.

"Hail," he says simply.

Unfortunately for Shirou, his voice is gentle. And rather androgynous, too. It's easy to take as either a low-voiced woman or a soft-voiced man. His shoulders are certainly broad, and he's quite tall, at least six feet... but... well. It's also debatable whether he's a knight. That cloak seems quite fine, but his clothing otherwise looks like a commoner's, and he seems to wear no weapons or armour. Maybe he's a foreman from the village below?

"I do not recognise your face." The tone is thoughtful, though not hostile. If anything, Bedivere seems puzzled. "Do you come from the village below? Or have you come to Dun Realtai to help with the reconstruction?" Those violet eyes fix on Shirou. "Who are you...?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "Er..." Shirou's still puzzled over Bedivere's demeanor. He'd have hoped for a voice that could settle the issue, what he got was more uncertainty. Either way, he's definitely not speaking the local tongue. Japanese is all Shirou's good with - and his (admittedly modern) english is pretty poor.

    "G-good evening!" He gulps out a touch nervously. "The latter. I'm Emiya Shirou. Saber... Arturia..." He has to clarify, remembering how many people are going by that alias for some odd reason, "Helped me out when I dropped in here, so I came back to return the favor. ... Erm... is it a bad time? ... no, for that matter, are you alright?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight's head tilts a little more at the foreigner's confusion. He looks as though he might have come from these lands, with those amber eyes and red hair, for these people seem to trend towards some manner of European stock. So too does the knight -- Scandinavian, perhaps, or something like it.

Immediately those violet eyes are focusing on Shirou with all the weight and intensity of a bird of prey, something sharp and almost predatory in his regard at the mention of that name. Without title, no less. The nervous boy might get a little more nervous at that cold stare.

"You will address the King of Britain with the proper respect due her." The statement is given coldly, though Bedivere still seems more thoughtful than aggressive. He eyes Shirou as though he's not quite sure what to make of him with a story like that. "'Her Majesty' will do."

Something in his eyes seems to soften, just a little. He doesn't want to scare the poor boy off. Especially not with an interesting story like that. "Come with me." He takes one last look at the road before turning, trudging toward the oaken door of the keep. "My king is not here, at the moment, but she will return either later or on the morrow. In the meantime, you may wait in the great hall, if you wish. We have little to offer, but there is bread and cheese, and I have prepared a pot of tea."

He bows forward, head inclining in a formal bow. When he straightens, he pushes the door open with his unbound left arm, holding it. "Be welcome to Dun Realtai as a guest, Emiya Shirou."

He'll hold the door for Shirou, because it beats standing around and chatting in a place so cold he can see his own breath... and if Arturia came back to see him standing there, she'd just scold him.

"It is not a bad time," he answers simply, and cocks his head at Shirou again when the boy asks if he's alright. The question seems to puzzle him. "Why would I not be? Oh -- this." Carefully, he shrugs his right shoulder, indicating the sling. "My thanks for your concern, but it will heal."

Ah. Introductions. Right. He'd been distracted, and forgotten. Some dim part of his mind wonders at that. In Camelot he never would have permitted his etiquette to slip so far, but...

Well, he's not really /worried/. Logically, he knows she can take care of herself, and she's surely not going to run into any /trouble/, but...

Had he always worried like this when they'd been apart, before?

Clearing his throat and banishing his thoughts, Bedivere offers a faint smile to the stranger. The expression is almost apologetic.

Actually, if he looks close, Shirou might notice something very much like a command seal on the man's right hand hanging from the sling -- but instead of the diamond-like figure of a sword, the sword is made of intricate Celtic knotwork.

"I am well acquainted with the king, having once served her as Left Hand of the King and Marshal of the Realm for over twenty years. I serve her still, but in a different capacity. I am Sir Bedivere of Dun Realtai," he adds, "and this is... well, it is not my hall, truthfully, but I am something of a guest, myself."

"Come, warm yourself before the fire, Emiya Shirou. The night is cold, and I fear it will be colder before it is through." He beckons Shirou over to the blazing hearth, where there are several wooden stools sitting, still fragrant of dry, fresh-hewn wood. "From where do you hail? What manner of aid did you wish to render to the king?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Such indignation. Shirou's a little shaken at how much he mis-spoke. But there's more to it than that. "... " He forces a neutral face as best he can, trying not to show how confounded he is by the idea that this Heroic Spirit is in fact a time-displaced, world-displaced King Arthur except this isn't even his world. How very, very confounding. "S-sorry, I didn't mean any offense." He blurts out hurriedly, and shuffles forward. Quite relieved at Bedivere calming down after that. "She didn't tell me anything about her position." What a blunder!

    On whose part, though?

    Still, he's welcomed, and that's worthy of relief. A tense weight off his shoulders. In fact, he does his best to return the bow, though the gesture's quite uncertain.

    He's just not sure at all of the local customs. A fact that's made all the more evident when he answers the question.

    He's following along, adjusting his unfamiliar clothing when he does so. "Fuyuki City, Japan. It's 2004 where I'm from." ONce he's had a chance to get his bearings, he seats himself gratefully on a stool.

    "Well, that depends on what needs doing, right? I sort of dropped in on her. Unified on the roof's inn and went plunging into a snowpile." He winces a bit sheepishly, not proud at all of the memory. How embarassing. "And I owe her for helping me out of that mess, explainingg the Multiverse, and introducing me to the Union. All I can really offer is some musclework...." Or a meal, maybe, but he hesitates to add that in.

    He's still not entirely sure if being so skilled at cooking is something worth mentioning. Or maybe, not something a guy should be tooooooo proud of. Still...

    "... unless you're in need of a cook for a while?" Yup, he admits it. Albeit with some reluctance.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The air almost seems to chill a degree or two when the silver-haired knight expresses his indignation, and then return to normal when it fades. For over twenty long years, he had taken it upon himself to safeguard Arturia's dignity as much as her person; a duty he had taken with the utmost solemnity.

Mention of Fuyuki City stirs a memory for the knight, but only vaguely. Had she not mentioned that she had been summoned to a place by that name? Curious that someone would show up from someplace such as that, now. Unifying into the village itself, no less, to hear this boy's tale.

Bedivere doesn't quite frown, but his expression is subtle; one of puzzlement. What had brought him here to this place, of all the places to be brought into the multiverse?

The knight paces a slow, stiff circle in front of the hearth. In better lighting, it's clear that the man moves as though he were in pain, perhaps healing from a number of wounds. His left hand raises, resting a curled finger over his upper lip in contemplative gesture.

"Mm." He pauses, turning to face Shirou. "To hear you tell, you have nowhere else to go. Have you a wish to stay on? There are guest quarters here within the keep, and I cannot turn away a guest." Again, that flicker of a half-smile. "As it happens, we are in sore need of a cook. We do not have any; what few remain are much occupied in the task of rebuilding their homes in the village." He lets his arm drop, turning to face the fire again. "And if you have a wish to help with the reconstruction, I am certain your assistance would be most welcome."

Apparently the fact that a guy is a whiz in the kitchen doesn't matter one whit, here.

"I am curious to know why you would have Unified here in this place. To my knowledge, there are things here considered mystic by the measure of some, but I am not certain why you, from an advanced city, would have come here..." He sighs. "A mystery for another day, I suppose."

He half-turns. "Will you be staying? Would you like me to show you where the guest quarters are...?"

Sir Gawain has posed:
NO TIME FOR ANSWERS. TIME FOR MOTORCYCLES.

The sounds of tires and motors is becoming louder and louder, as, quite a bit from their position, there is a dude in a suit riding a white motorcycle at two billion(tm) miles per hour. Probably less than that. But straight towards the keep! And it sounds like the motorcycle is probably going to crash into the wall, right where they are.

But it doesn't, the engines dying down, probably some terrified villagers who saw him trying to put their hearts back in their chests, as Sir Gawain steps into the keep. His gray suit, with the golden floral tie, is present, as he smiles brightly at Sir Brodivere and Shirou. "Greetings, Sir Bedivere. Ah..who is this, might I ask?". Nope nothing happened outside.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    That is unmistakable a motorcycle. Shirou, who's worked on them fairly often (and for a yakuza boss, no less) perks up at the foreign noise invading the otherwise peaceful medieval town.

    When Gawain tromps in wearing that suit, Shirou's left gaping somewhat.

    Sir Bedivere got upset when he didn't address Saber properly, and now another one of these monstrous, inhuman presences just came burning in on a motorcycle?

    Shirou regards this change with some wariness.

    This INTRUDER, even.

    "... Emiya Shirou, from Fuyuki City." The redhead answers simply, voice tinged only slightly with discomfort. It's almost some kind of -heresy- to see someone coming in like that when everyone else is so.. medieval. But that's somewhat normal for his culture - people who brazenly stand out like that and draw all kinds of attention are just augh.

    "It'd be nice if I knew, Sir bedivere, but sorry. I barely even understand my own world's magics. The Multiverse has /everyone/ stumped. I don't want to impose either, but Njorun's too busy to get any rest in and there's not much to do. Everyone I left will get worried if I can't get home soon, but that's not so easy, with how dangerous just riding from one world to the next is. So I'd like to help. It doesnt' feel fair lounging in Njorun when everyone out here's struggling to rebuild a roof over their head. If you have room for me without any trouble, I'll gladly help out."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Oddly, the silver-haired knight doesn't seem to mind the approach of the machine at all. Nor does he seem to mind the approach of the suit-wearing knight, either, glancing over his shoulder and wincing slightly.

It was no secret to Gawain that he had been put down hard from the battle in Azuma. Bedivere was no Servant like his brother-in-arms; it took him much longer to recover from such injury. While he might have healed more quickly, even Gawain would have noticed that the marshal was in poor condition following his years-long ordeal after the Battle of Camlann -- slow to heal, and slow to recover, with shadows under his eyes still.

Most of the time, he looks like hell, but he's looking better than he has for a long time.

"Ah, brother." Apparently the knight knows this motorcyclist, and knows him well. He even smiles a faint little smile, though he doesn't bow or show any other sort of respectful gesture. He doesn't need to. Although Bedivere technically had the authority to order Gawain in military matters, they are more or less equals.

The Knight of the Sun is one of the few he would regard so.

"Welcome back." His expression fades. "Our king has not yet returned. I was waiting for her outside, and we received a visitor." Bedivere dips his chin to indicate Shirou; his uninjured hand rises to tug absently at the round red stone stud in his left ear. "Hm. Well, it does not matter. An idle curiosity. It is not as though I have the answers, either," he adds, bemused.

He is not too inclined to question multiversal matters, not when it had rescued him from an otherwise dismal situation.

The stranger's earnest plea draws a look from Bedivere. Those violet eyes linger on Shirou, studying him, as though looking right /through/ him and taking his measure. Certainly the boy means well, and the marshal would be loathe to turn away any offers of help. It's desperately needed.

"Then be welcome to Dun Realtai, Emiya Shirou, as our guest. You may stay in the castle, or you may stay in the village's inn." Again, that faint smile. It doesn't seem that he's purposefully trying to be distant; simply that he has a reserved way about him. "I would introduce you to our king on her return, but it seems you have already made her acquaintance... ah, forgive me. This is Sir Gawain." He indicates the suit-clad knight with his left hand. "A fellow Knight of the Round Table, and a fellow servant of the king's..."

He shakes his head, silvery blonde hair falling across his face, only to be brushed away by an errant swipe of his left hand. "Truth be told, I will not linger here much longer. Our king has requested that I rest, and I would be loathe to disobey her." Even so, this is related in a tone of clear reluctance. Bedivere is, in fact, a terrible patient. "I should have liked to wait for her return, but the hour grows late."

Violet eyes flick back to Shirou. "And for you, Emiya Shirou. There are guest rooms on the second and third floors, whichever you prefer. Those rooms that are not occupied will have their doors open; you may choose whichever you like."

Wearily, he turns from the hearth to face his two guests, setting the teacup on one of the stools before the hearth and inclining his head in a partial bow; the arm in the sling is probably a good reason for why he doesn't incline forward all the way. "If you will excuse me. I apologise for my rudeness, but I should be off."

With that, provided neither of them stop him, he'll make his weary ascent to the fifth floor, where the lord's quarters are.

...Yep, not a commoner. Hm, he'll have to corner Shirou later and interview him about that cooking skill. It would be nice to have a cook whose skills aren't lethal!