Difference between revisions of "1733/Beast of Fable"

Latest revision as of 21:13, 6 March 2015

Amalthea (395) has posed:
A flicker of silver on snow, a glimpse of moonlight on steel; in broad daylight through the trees, and in no time the rumors began to spring up around the village. Something seen only fleeting; timid, hiding from plain sight; and quick to flight on approach has been spooted by the trees and lake of Dún Reáltaí and setting the people a-whisper.

Unicorn.

It has to be. And while some maidens are probably set running in wild search; they'll not find this one. Someone else might, however; as the beast is brazenly laying in a quiet section by the lake, curled up on an impromptu bed formed by a drift of fresh snow, unheeding of the chill bite. She stares off into the distance; wild and windswept mane pooling in the snow like a liquid rainbow of scintillating color.

A soft snort puffs steam into the air, silently ruminating in that way only an immortal beast can, so placidly lost in internal thought.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Fortunately, Dún Reáltaí's folk have more sense than to go haring off after a white hart or a unicorn. They're more interested in chopping wood, carrying water, and repairing their homes from the crushing weight of snow on them.

As for their lord, Sir Bedivere can be found on the outskirts of the lake, wearing his blue steel chain hauberk and leather pauldrons. He carries no sword, but slung over his shoulder is the cracked war-horn he had carried at Camlann. Does he expect trouble, maybe? He's scanning the lake's shore as though he's looking for something.

Instead, he finds Amalthea. Fairly confident that she probably knows he's there, Bedivere raises an arm in friendly gesture, even as he makes his way over to her little section of the shore.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
That's all well and good. The diligent and hardy folk of the marshal's lands should focus on their tasks, because THIS particular unicorn would be cranky at the first sign of disruption. At least in the case of any strangers. The lord of the lands however is more welcome company at least; a known acquaintance, a fellow knight, a man of duty, faith, and honor. Though at first there is no response, she remains lost with her gaze upon the horizon; at least until his approach draws closer.

A tilt of the head regards the armored knight from her good eye; though of course there is no threat and she knows it; thus the tilting incline of a silent nod in greeting, indicating his is a welcome presence to join her, if that was his intent.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Snow crunches underfoot at Bedivere's approach. It's hard to be stealthy in snow, and it's especially hard to be stealthy in a chain hauberk, with the sound of metal links slithering at every step. Fortunately, there's no need for stealth.

Maybe he picks up on her introspective mood. He approaches without hailing her, and stiffly throws himself down on the snow beside her with a huff of breath. The cold does his old wounds no favours, but he doesn't seem to mind too much. A visit from a unicorn is a rare treat.

Silence passes, and not a single thing happens to break it. The place is truly devoid of life, and when Bedivere finally speaks, it makes his voice seem loud in spite of its gentle tone.

"It is good to see you again, Lady Amalthea." He offers that faint smile, almost shy in its reluctance. "For a moment, I thought the reports that reached me of a strange white beast on the lakeshore were something else."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
The crunch of snow displaced by the knight flomping down at her side yields a flick of one loppy ear, turning her head again to better regard the man with her good eye now, rather than lose herself across the lake somewhere as she had been moments ago. "I hate to disappoint, but it's just me. Hello, good Sir Bedivere." Comes her reply, soft and placid in tone.

It is a rare treat though, isn't it? Though today's little meeting lacks the initial tease of the last, the unicorn dips her head, a light tap of the very tip of her horn upon the knight's pauldron in a simple contact of greeting, before she lays her head upon the snow. "Forgive the lack of announcement, all unicorns have the nasty habit of coming and going as we please. But I needed a quiet place to think, and I remembered this lake was very peaceful the last time I came."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"The alternative is a ravening creature of the Otherworld, so if I were honest, I would prefer that it be you." Bedivere chuckles, a little bleakly. He doesn't lean back against a tree, because there aren't any trees to lean back against; instead, he pulls himself up to sit cross-legged. "It must have sensed you. I've not sighted it today."

He looks over when she lowers her head, touching that opalescent horn to his pauldron, still as a staute – a rare honour for one such as him; he, who remembers the tales of unicorns in his homeland.

Violet eyes turn back to the lake. "Indeed. You are welcome at any time, and need not announce yourself. I know all that happens in this land; word of your arrival will reach me eventually, if you are spotted by the townsfolk. And your being here means that the unseelie that has been haunting this lake has left for a time."

"I suppose it does not like unicorns," he muses, looking up to the bleak winter sky, thoughtfully.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
Snort. A mild amusment results in a misty blast of steam from the nostrils, before the unicorn tosses her mane in a flick. "Well that's no good. I suppose I am the better alternative, aren't I?" She does reply, while lazily pawing at the snow with one foreleg. "Thank you, though." Given after a beat.

Nevertheless, a slight roll onto her side means she can lounge and keep that eye up. "An Unseelie? Has it been troubling you and the people?" Asked in an idle fashion, "I can remain a little longer if you'd like." Offered easily and without thought to other, more pressing matters- a thankful moment of being able to focus on something else aside from what's been eating at her. "And you and your king are well, I hope? I do remember last time I visited, she was quite busy with trying to keep you in one piece."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere looks up briefly, watching Amalthea toss her mane. He has to wonder what it's really made of. It's not hair; she's not organic, and there's no mistaking that. In some ways she's just as strange as the Unseelie.

"Not as of yet." He leans back a little, hands on knees. "It watches, but thus far it seems content to wait. I do not know what it intends, although I know that the Fair Folk of this land have their eye on Dún Reáltaí. They wait, and they watch, for they would see what I do with this land. I find their attention unnerving, but I understand their motive."

He shrugs, faintly, chain shirt slithering. "If you wish. You are always welcome here as a guest, as are the remainder of your family, as honoured allies of the Union and personal friends of my king." He tips his head. "We are. I have stepped away from a number of Union matters to concentrate on helping these people survive the winter."

"Spring will be a concern." He sighs through his teeth. "I will need to enlist the help of still more allies to ensure the land is made fertile once more. It has been suggested to me by Sir Psyber to make inquiries to Lady FIA, and I have already asked Lady Stadler's assistance in the matter. Whatever the usurper did, the land was made sterile."

Bedivere shrugs again. "Salted earth, although there is no salt... some foul magic, I suppose."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
Whatever it is, it's silken soft, and rife with an abundance of sparkling detritus; spraying the snow in a fresh dusting of something both dusty and sparkling under any light. Probably best to not get that anywhere near oneself, because it looks like there might be difficulty in getting it out.

Nevertheless the unicorn listens silently, giving little more than another idle pawing at the snow with a cloven hoof, at first. "The fey are... A tricky lot to deal with. One I try to avoid altogether where I can, but it doesn't sound like you have that luxury. For a mortal to know they have the attention of something so alien, feeling prickly is more than normal, it's natural."

Still, she moves right along, that distant and deep eye sliding closed for a beat. "You do your lands and your people well, considering the circumstances. I don't think anyone will hold it against you if Union duties take a backseat to more pressing home concerns. Fia would be a good choice for that, yes; I'm sure between her and Yunomi, they should be able to ease whatever blights the land. I suppose you might end up pleasantly surprising your fey watchers. Or make them jealous."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight looks down at the snow again, where the glitter is already getting everywhere. Is that stuff going to get into the water table? Will the year's crops come up rainbow-coloured?

"I have reason to believe they were the original people of this land. That would not be strange, to me. Such it was in my homeland, and in Camelot, too." Ah, was he not from Camelot originally? Legends seem to think he was, but then again, the legends also believed the king was a man. "We will see."

Bedivere cocks a violet eye toward the unicorn, as though uneasy. "Jealous? I would sooner avoid their attention at all, Lady Amalthea. One does not seek out their attention. In the world I am from, in a kingdom called Cathay, there was an ancient curse: 'May you live in interesting times.' And the Fair Folk are nothing if not, ah, 'interesting.'"

Amalthea (395) has posed:
Legends are funny things, painting tales in colorful if not always accurate manners. But embellished or stretched, legends will always last. Now though that eye returns her focus to the knight at her side, a sidewards stare as one loppy ear lifts straight up and turns to him. "Perhaps they were. They live for ages, but are no less immune to displacement by the growth of man as are the trees and the birds." She chuffs, shoulders lifting with a mechanical buzz of servos and motors in a clear and evident shrug.

"Oho, I know of that curse. It's a nasty one despite so innocuous seeming, is it not. I never said their jealousy would be a good thing, though did I, mm?" Mused with a pointed tilt of her head. "They ARE a tricky lot and I think if you presume to tel a unicorn about how 'interesting' the Fair ones are, then I don't need to warn you the folly of slighting them or dealing lightly with them." She teases, but under that playful tone of course is the harder knife's edge of a dire seriousness to her words.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"They fled before the coming of men in the ancient kingdoms of my homeland, and they fled before the coming of men in Camelot, as well." Bedivere shrugs, casting his eyes out over the lake. "Why should they not flee here? But somehow I feel they will not do that, and I would rather not give them cause to flee."

He regards the unicorn from the corner of his eye for a moment, thoughtful.

"My king's advisor is half-incubus, or half-Fae, depending on whom you ask. I think I know well the dangers of such. And I have been treating with the Fair Folk in good faith since arriving here in Dún Reáltaí, as well." His smile is cold, and he slowly creaks his way to his feet, brushing snow from his hauberk. "It cannot be said that I go into this with closed eyes."

"In any case, I should return to my king. She will no doubt be wondering where I have gone." He smiles, faintly. "Stay as long as you like, Lady Amalthea. My hall is yours, and Lord's blessing upon you."

With that, he raises a hand in farewell, turning to trudge back up the path to the village, provided she doesn't stop him.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
"If they choose to stay, it is a reason that will not be evident until they've decided for it to be known. If they do at all. Here's to hoping you do NOT live in interesting times, then, hm?" The unicorn chuffs. But then in a bird-like motion shifts the cant of her head, regarding the knight from a new angle as the topic shifts somewhat slightly. "Ah hah?"

A curious, albeit tired, lilt to her voice. "Would that be the Wizard of legend, or has she taken on a new advisor for a new age?" She keeps her question simple, despite the glimmer in her eye that says she might want to swing a tease, she opts to stow it and swallow it down, perhaps never to be heard, and remains somewhat serious. "It is good you keep both eyes open. Some of us cannot."

Nevertheless, he deems it time to go, then. And thus the unicorn inclines her head in a gesture of farewell, horn dipping. "Go to her, then. Worry not for me, one day soon I'll have to visit that hall of yours and enjoy that famous brehon hospitality, but this time I think I'll content myself to the view of the lake while I contemplate. Be well, good knight."