1527/Hints of Spring

Hints of Spring
Date of Scene:	08 February 2015
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	Bedivere and Sakura Haruno have a chat about various things at the commons of Dún Reáltaí's inn.
Cast of Characters:	134, 482

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Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Although winter reigns over the plains of Dún Reáltaí, there are gradual hints of spring around the proverbial corner. The sun was out for most of the day, bleak as it had been, and it seems the snow hasn't quite been falling in earnest as it had – but there's still quite a bit of snow about, and nothing's actually started melting yet.

The evening finds Bedivere in the village proper, although he's not doing any work as one might expect him to be. Rather, he's perched on a section of fence around the village square, clad in thick layers of commoners' clothing, cloak around his shoulders, and an obviously hand-woven blue-grey scarf around his neck. In the crook of an arm is his harp, which he strums, and his soft voice is raised in song. It's something hopeful, a song of soldiers returning home, if slightly melancholy in the unspoken implication of those who didn't survive.

A few villagers have paused in their chores to listen, although in ways that don't make it immediately obvious that they are. Although, knowing the marshal's powers of perception, he knows he has an audience – there's something terribly shy about his voice, as though he hasn't quite let the music take him just yet, and may not.

Well, not terribly hard to find out where he is, anyway.

Sakura Haruno (134) has posed:
Less snow is still better than more snow. Before going outside, Flowers is dressing in a truly hilarious amount of clothing. A pair of coats are found atop a sweater. This is bulging out in a way that clothes really shouldn't do, especially given that the medic generally looks half starved. Still, in spite of all of this, she's happy to get out of her room, having spent quite enough time sulking by now.

She'll make her way down into the village proper, her hair just barely showing under the hats, leaving the Scar on her face as her most distintive feature. Still, she'll be drawn by the music, and while she won't want to interrupt, she'll come close enough that it's obvious she's watching. The chattering of her teeth will give her away, if nothing else.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Not once does the harp strike a foul note, but it does stop, fingers pausing over the strings. Bedivere looks up. Perhaps he senses eyes other than the villagers' on him; perhaps he simply hears her teeth chattering, but it's clear that he's noticed Sakura.

"Ah." The sound is almost one of quiet dismay, as though disappointed that he had been found out by one of his vaunted guests. He's like another person entirely off the field of battle or outside the confines of duty – soft-spoken and almost shy. "Lady Sakura." He cocks his head slightly, studying her. "You should not be out here, if you are so cold... if it please you, we can go someplace warmer."

The unspoken implication is that he's probably been out here for a little while, too. His fingers seem to move a little stiffly, and his face is reddened, as though by the cold wind.

Sakura Haruno (134) has posed:
Sakura hasn't dealt with him terribly much within the confines of his duty, nor on the battlefield, and so this is the side she actually thinks of when she thinks of him. "Aah. I am trying to get used to the weather here. It is not going very well." She admits, with a sigh that leaves her breath visable.

"Where I'm from, it was a tremendously cold day if it got below freezing at all." She adds, a bit wistfully. "And even living in Boston, I spent most of my time in medical or going through the portal to Spring. I wonder if we can import good weather here, as well? But where did you wish to go? In front of a fire would help some." She admits, considering what businesses did exist in the valley.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Hmm. I admit, it is colder than even I am accustomed to. Camelot's winters were not so harsh." The pale-haired knight looks up, regarding the darkening skies thoughtfully. "And I did not see half so much snow, there. You could lose a man or horse in these drifts." Which is probably why there's something of an informal curfew, since wandering around them after dark is dangerous.

He pushes himself off the fence, landing with a slight hint of stiffness; whether from cold, posture, or old wounds, it's hard to say. Most likely it's a combination of the three. Once he's down, the empty harp bag slung over his shoulder is visible. He clutches the instrument closer, cradling it almost reverently. A symbolic and tremendously important instrument in his culture, the harp, though it's perhaps not as dear to him as a good set of pipes.

"Hmm. That seems to be the common consensus, to those who visit. 'I have not felt such cold,' or, 'I have not seen such snow." Bedivere's smile is a little lopsided; almost apologetic. "I hope I can say that spring will be milder, though it was not so cold today as it has been. I think it snowed less, as well." Shifting his grip on the harp, he gestures with his mostly-free hand, beckoning Sakura to follow. "The inn. Come. It will not be so crowded, I think."

It does prove to be pretty empty. Maybe the villagers were busy getting their ale on while it was still light, or maybe there's just not much ale to go around. Whatever the case, the common room of the inn is almost empty – but there's a roaring fire in the hearth, and the innkeeper, an old man with hair gone white, is sweeping the floor near the counter, looking up and almost dropping his broom in his shock.

"M-milord!" he sputters, sweeping off his cloth hat, but Bedivere holds up a hand to forestall the old man's obeisances.

"That will be all. As you were," he says, not unkindly. "We will not require anything, unless the lady should wish for refreshment."

That seems to take care of that. Bedivere slides into a chair in front of the fire, sighing in pleasure at the warmth radiating from the hearth. "There," he says, glancing over to Sakura. "Will this do?"

Sakura Haruno (134) has posed:
"Well. I'm used to working underground, these days, so I'm less worried about that. And I'm not good with horses, in any case." Sakura admits. Though she's better with them than she is with most cars or any form of flight.

She looks rather sharply at the way that he moves off the fence; looking for any signs of present injury, it seems. She's a nosy guest, in a way.

She hmms and nods. "Well, it's not even that I haven't seen so much snow. I don't even remember ever having any snow on the ground at home." She says. "Though it was.. not exactly a welcoming place, at the end. Hopefully, this will do better."

With that rather morose statement, she'll head behind him into the inn, taking another seat next to the fire. "I will have some water, please, but I'm not very hungry just now." She requests from the old man, holding her hands towards the fire. "And this will be perfect, yes. It would be hard to find anywhere much better here." Directly in front of a fire is just what she needed.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Hm. Pity," Bedivere murmurs, rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully. "I imagine horses will be useful in this place, once the snows have melted. It is a vast plain, and I intend to survey the environs more thoroughly when spring has come. There are no doubt minerals somewhere beneath this valley, for if metal ores can be found here, it may be wrought into many useful things."

Leaning back in his chair, he lets his eyes hood, watching the dancing flame, a scattering of embers swirling up to the chimney. "I would express sympathy, about your village, but I was in a similar position myself. This is the first real home I have ever had."

The water is brought quickly; it seems the old man knows very well how to be an unobtrusive servant.

"Hmm." He rubs his hands together. "I am sorry it is so cold, here, then, if you have nowhere else to go. As I said, I can only hope that spring will be better. Soon, I think. I have seen hints of it, although they are little more than hints..."

Sakura Haruno (134) has posed:
"I can imagine they will be useful to others; I'm just faster and stronger than they are. And they hurt to ride." She admits, mumbling the last. "I mean, I can heal it, but it's kind of pointless for me."

It may be something of a question how truthful she's being there, but the echo of pain briefly in her eyes will erase that for the mention of the village. "Well, I more meant that it's gone now. Not that I was not welcome there. But it was really a great home, once."

She'll take the water, drinking deeply from it.

"No, no, there's no need to apologize. I have other places I could go, to be alone and to hide away. But I don't think it would be good for me to indulge in that too much. I need to be around people, to stay healthy. The last thing I want is.." She'll trail off, though, not really wanting to go much further there.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere glances sideways slightly, chuckling when she complains about the pain of riding. "As you wish." As a knight-aspirant, he'd once fancied himself an expert horseman, but fifteen years of serving Camelot and several grueling campaigns of days-long riding had beaten that out of him, somewhat literally.

To that, he looks a little melancholy. Even worse, then, that it was an actual home and she had been driven from it not for hostility, but by destruction. At least when Camelot fell, he had not borne any particular attachment to the place itself, despite living there for the better part of fifteen years; it had been other things he had grieved for. As, he imagines, he would grieve if he were forced to leave this place.

"I see. Well, as I said, you will be welcome here for however long you wish to stay." The violet-eyed knight inclines his head, slightly. "I will pass no judgement on you for that." He smiles, but there's a sardonic edge to the crooked expression, this time. "I am hardly in a position to."

Sakura Haruno (134) has posed:
"I don't know how long that will be. Please let me know if I'm overstaying my welcome at all, though; I'm sometimes bad at picking up on that." She says, with a slight grimace. She'd have been better off leaving a long time ago, if she was going to over Elliana, after all.

She sets the glass down, starting to consider other topics. "Do you really think it will start to melt soon? That seems like it may create some difficulties as well." She says, sighing. "But I might be able to help with that much, at least. I could certainly change some of it from sitting water to mist, at least?" She's a fairly advanced Earth nature, with that water bit mostly being useful for mistiness.

"Or maybe we could use a pond. Is there a pond somewhere around here, under all the snow? I could certainly carve one out." Landscaping may undergo a major revisiou if Bedivere doesn't direct her in less harmful areas.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight merely waves a hand, unconcerned. "You are not overstaying your welcome. I can think of far more troublesome persons who could stay here as guests than you, Lady Sakura."

"Perhaps." Bedivere leans forward, resting his elbows over his knees as he looks to the fire. The posture seems to make him look a little more like the awkward, lanky youth he once was; all knees and elbows, chasing an impossible dream, but for the weariness in his eyes. "It is my hope it does not create too many difficulties. Miss Toph has been kind enough to reinforce the hill. Its foundations now are solid stone. I do not think any amount of water will cause it to wash away."

To the rest, though, he only shrugs. "If you wish to, I will not ask you to refrain. It would be appreciated, either way, for it will then have no chance to cause any trouble. Actually, yes. Northeast of the hill, there is a lake, and I believe the villagers have been keeping its surface clear."

"In point of fact, I believe they use it for drawing water, or did; it has been neglected for some time, for something has taken up residence near it." Judging by his suddenly-sour expression, it's not a nice something. "An Otherworldly creature, and dangerous. I will consult with Master Loros on the matter, sooner or later, for I konw not why such a creature would come here. Yet I am not comfortable having such a thing close to the villagers."

He gestures faintly, looking down. "It is a 'kelpie,' known also as a 'water-horse.' It takes the form of a beautiful, richly-bred horse, tempting incautious travellers close with its apparent good breeding and confirmation, something valuable to be sold at market if it can be caught. Yet when the traveller attempts to ride upon its back, to take it where he might perhaps sell the beast, he will find he cannot be free of its skin, and it will change before his eyes into a horrifying skeletal nightmare, with algae in its mane and dead eyes, dragging him beneath the lake."

"Whether he dies by drowning or because the creature eats him is purely an academic question, for he will usually be dead within the half-hour." Bedivere gestures again, loosely, shrugging. "Although I have heard it is possible to gain the loyalty of such a creature, I have no notion of how."

Sakura Haruno (134) has posed:
"Well, I suppose that's fair. Loros is here, somewhere, after all." She says; while she's willing to live and let live with that particular member of the Confederacy, she's not ignorant of his past. It just isn't quite as irrational and personal for her.

"I see. Well, a lake is something I can work with." She says, seeming to consider as she listens to the story. "I have not heard of such a creature before, but do you want me to attempt to fight it off? Even if I cannot kill it, it is unlikely to be able to actually kill me, either. I certainly won't be tempted to ride it!"

The shudder she gives there may be complete evidence that Bedivere has just made it a hundred percent that Sakura will never climb onto any sort of animal again if she has any choice in the matter.

She'll give a glance to her glass of water, too. "Oh, no. I'm not wasting all of their drinking water while they can't get more because of this monster, am I?" Imposing guest indeed!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"He is, and I will not ask him to leave simply because he is a Confederate." Bedivere shakes his head, though he looks more thoughtful than argumentative; it's a simple statement of fact, rather than a defensive protest. "I do not trust him, but there is yet some use to his being here, and the less said of it the better, I think, for your safety as much as mine."

The pale-haired knight is only beginning to skim the surface of such things. Unwillingly, of course, but he will not limit himself if it means preventing Saber from fading away.

He shifts in his seat, eyes hooding as he regards the fire. It's relaxing, almost hypnotic; and for a few seconds he allows his eyes to slip out of focus entirely. "Mm. No. For the time being, leave it be. Attacking it would unbalance this place in more ways than you could know, I think; in more ways than even I could know."

"We are being watched by the Fair Folk as a whole. They are nervous, and wish to see for themselves that the new lord of this place will not make war with them." He reaches down, slowly levering a log up and rolling it onto the fire. Wincing slightly at the shower of sparks, he eases back into his seat, half-closing his eyes as he resumes his elbows-on-knees stance.

"If it causes trouble, then I will speak to Master Loros, or Master Merlin." The big guns, as it were, although they would be useful less for direct action and more for advice. Of the two, neither would be the type to solve his problems for him. Neither would he want them to do such a thing.

Water? He shakes his head. "No. When we had the village rebuilt, we ensured that there was sufficient engineering in place to provide water that need not be collected manually. The pipes draw water up even when the surface of the lake is frozen." He gives a half-smile. "Say what you will of their empire, but the Romans were skillful engineers... and there is plenty of multiversal adaptation, as well. No, you do not take anything which cannot be provided in full; there is no shortage of water, though I thank you for your concern."

Slowly and stiffly, with a popping of joints, he climbs back to his feet again, still cradling his harp in the crook of his arm. "For now, though, I had best return home. I have been out too long; my king will no doubt wonder where I have gone. I would not upset her." Offering a stiff half-bow to Sakura, owing to the harp in his arm, he studies her for a moment when he straightens. "Thank you for the conversation. We will meet again, I think."

With that, provided she doesn't stop him, he'll unsling his harp bag, tuck it back in, heft it back on his shoulder, and venture back out into the clear but bitter-cold night.