1773/Raging Ground

Raging Ground
Date of Scene:	10 March 2015
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	Toph attempts to use earthbender tactics to calm down Bedivere's raging mind. Both are equally stubborn.
Cast of Characters:	20, 482

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Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    It sure sounded like there was one hell of a mess yesterday. And there's no mistaking the way Bedivere's voice sounded different. So much more subdued and tense, especially to a trained ear. Add in the fact that Toph has wanted to speak with the lord of Dun Realtai ever since he seemed to throw a little fit over nicknames and whatnot at the celebration a few weeks ago, and she had little reason to /not/ show up.

    The presence of the snow still vexes her, however.

    The blind girl burrows out of the ground right by the front gates of the keep, and if there are guards about they will see her raising her gloved hands as she waves. Just a friendly visit, no invading forces from underground. Because there is no way she is trudging through all this snow, nuh uh. Once she's made her way inside and taken off her heavy winter clothes she follows her feet to where she might find Bedivere in the keep. And she is carrying her satchel with her that does seem to be filled with something that smells sweet and tasty.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Dun Realtai still has snow on the ground, but at least the blizzards seem to be finished. At least there's less than there was a few weeks ago. With slightly warmer temperatures, some of the drifts have had a chance to melt, though the ground is still white.

It will be another week or two before it melts completely, and that's when the real work can begin. There's barren earth to heal, plant life to be reseeded, and crops to be planted. It's the last obstacle in helping this place become self-sufficient once more, and the one that Bedivere has worried himself the most over -- if the crops fail, there's no hope for this place.

There are guards posted at the castle gate, although their equipment is shabby and they look like they're pretty cold. They stare at the thing bursting out of the earth and snow for a second or two, spears bristling, before they realise it's waving at them.

"Lord Bedivere is inside," one of them says, waving toward the gate. "But mind yourself, lass. He's in a strange mood."

With that ominous warning, she'll be admitted inside, heavy winter clothes taken by one of the ubiquitous castle servants to hang by the hearth to dry. The enormous hearth in the great hall is blazing as it has been all winter, warm and bright; the spacious hall, once forlorn and tattered, has a much nicer and more inviting feel to it. The tattered banners have been taken down, and even the rusted greatsword over the hearth has been polished up a little, so what small bit of it isn't rusted gleams in the firelight.

Bedivere himself is seated before the fire, with something bright across his lap. His sword, by the look of it, and the steady scraping sound of a whetstone over its honed edge is unmistakable.

So intent is he on his task that he doesn't seem to notice that anybody's come for him. He's been like this since the meeting with Lute -- quiet, brooding; as though he barely has a handle on the rage that boils just beneath the surface. There are many things he will tolerate, but Lute chose to do one of the very few things he can never forgive, or forget.

In short, he is a changed man, one wholly unfamiliar to his allies. Calm, rational, and logical Bedivere does not let his emotions lead him, especially anger; he does not threaten casually, nor does he lightly breach the laws of hospitality he holds so dear. Yet he has done all three, with no apparent hesitation, and has been quietly alternating between nursing his rage and trying to quell it ever since.

Even the castle servants have avoided him.

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    Strange mood indeed... Toph nods and muses a bit on this, wondering just what on earth happened between him and Lute to make him sound so cold. Well, Lute is a fool in her opinion, and she has little respect for him. And while Bedivere is stiff and needs to loosen up at times, he's not a bad person. And Toph likes to consider him a friend. She's helped Dun Realtai once before, and well, she does't expect to fix Bedivere's mood as easily as she fixed the foundation for this place itself. But maybe he can feel slightly better, at least?

    The blind earthbender walks down the length of the great hall, bare feet still cold as they step on the floor. But at least the room is warm, and she can feel the heat from the hearth. While she normally is far more forward, even Toph Beifong knows when to not jump into things. Even if she's not afraid. Why should she be? She isn't the one who has pissed Bedivere off, after all! But she's not going to tip toe around things either. So she walks up to the fire... and flops down on her but as she moves her feet to warm them. Aaaah, that sure hits the spot!

    "Ever tasted filled brownie cookies?" she asks, dropping any greeting as she begins searching through her satchel.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
At least the guards are friendly. Actually, a lot of the townsfolk are friendly people. They seem to welcome visiting Elites from the Union, offering them every hospitality and courtesy when they decide to stop in at the remote castle town. Ordinarily, Bedivere's right there to welcome visitors at the gates, too, but today seems to be a bizarre exception to the rule.

If he notices the approach of bare feet on stone, he doesn't comment or look up. The only sound issuing from his direction is the deliberate and purposeful scrape of steel and stone. His sword is an old blade, and the notches and scarring over the bright steel tells a story of long years of service and hard use. Once upon a time, he was the man who led Camelot's armies, and he was not the kind of man to lead from the rear. The Saxons found that out, to their terror.

Curious, considering he never seems to draw his sword here in the multiverse, and has on more than one occasion made it plain how much he dislikes fighting.

Something's obviously happened, and it must have been something grave indeed.

His whetstone stops mid-scour at the sound of a familiar voice. Slowly, he looks up, but his eyes are distant and he isn't looking at her. She might notice his distraction just in the way he moves, and to hear his breathing and his heart, he's obviously forcing himself to remain calm, and he's probably been doing that for a while now. Something about that heartbeat doesn't sound right; the forced calm of his breathing.

There are shadows under his eyes. It's possible he hasn't slept.

Finally he offers a smile, even though she can't see it. There's something ghastly about the expression; something forced and not-right.

"No. Thank you, but I am not hungry." There's an odd quality to his voice; a strange sort of flatness. "Would you like me to put another log on the fire? It is still cold, in Dun Realtai. Spring will not be here for some weeks yet."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    As she draws nearer to him it's clear that there's something wrong with him, indeed...

    The sound of his heart beat, the way he breathes...

    A pensive look settles on Toph's face, and she doesn't miss the way he notices that he is no longer alone. And while she can't see the shadows under his eyes the way he moves says a lot more to Toph than seeing people would ever know. Her ears tell her more about his voice rather than his words.

    "You never have to be hungry to enjoy snacks," she says with a teasing huff and pulls out a paperbag, then holds out a large brownie cookie to Bedivere. And she will not pull her hand back unless he takes it. Eat it.

    The offer to put on another log on the fire earns a shake of her head. "Nah, this is warm enough. I'm not a delicate hot house flower, which you ought to know. Heck, I could handle an upset lord if I had to."

    The offer is there for a spar, as she knows of few things as good to get rid of pent up frustration and anger than to simply duke it out. But then there's also the reason for his anger... the anger that seems to gnaw way too deep than what is healthy. So in typical earthbender style she sighs and narrows her eyes slightly where she sits.

    "So what did that dunderhead do? I've never heard you angry before, Buddyvere."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The silver-haired knight doesn't answer. He's focusing very carefully on his breathing and his fragile sense of calm. Forced though it may be, it's keeping him from going on a rampage at the moment, and even he can dimly sense that the townsfolk are downright frightened of this side of him.

Almost thoughtfully, the stone starts scraping the sword's length again. The motion is controlled, and his hand doesn't so much as tremble. He's wearing his chain mail, too, and the metallic slither of links rings softly with every movement, as though he were preparing for war.

There's no answer to her assertion about snacks. Arturia could attest it's difficult enough nagging him to eat normal meals.

When she protests another log, he flicks a brief glance at her, but there's still that curiously flat quality; that muted way in which he moves. Curiously, the castle servants are gone, no doubt talking quietly amongst themselves just out of earshot. Toph's sensitive hearing can probably catch the gist of their quiet conversation, mostly discussing Bedivere's strange condition, and what might have caused it.

He doesn't agree or disagree to an offer of sparring, either. On one hand, a spar isn't going to help him very much; the object of his rage is entirely too focused. On the other hand, their styles are fairly different. He's not sure he'd enjoy it too much, and trying to combat rocks with a wooden practise sword would just break them. Even sparring with Arturia has a tendency to break the practise weapons on a regular basis.

Those violet, curiously flat eyes turn to Toph again, studying her for a moment when she asks what it is Lute actually did.

"He insulted my king." The words are flat, almost cold. "I will accept any slight against my own honour, but I will brook no insult to the honour of my king. It is my sworn duty as her knight..."

Something twitches near his right eye.

"He dishonoured her. As a king, as a knight, and as a woman. He dared to kiss her, to /insult/ her, and I will kill him for it."

It might seem laughable, especially to someone like Toph, but there's no mistaking the deadly seriousness in his tone, or the way he barely controls himself. His voice, normally so gentle and soft, is curiously rough; baerly restrained.

"Of course, he could not know that she belongs to another, but that is irrelevant. That--that /low/-born /bastard/ dared to--to--"

The leather palm pads of his gauntlets creak; he's holding the whetstone so tightly that it takes conscious effort to let go, and his gauntlets click quietly at the shift in pressure. He draws in a breath; lets it out through his nose.

"I would have accepted any insult to my person. I have taken insult any other man would have drawn steel against in Camelot. But I will not accept insult to /her/. He could have done anything but this, and I would have let him live."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    Talk about being tense as a string, huh...

    Toph shakes the cookie a bit. "My arm is getting tired. So take it." Seriously, are you going to say no to her? She brought cookies for you! Even if he's in a real grumpy mood there's no reason why he shouldn't be able to eat one cookie. Or two. Heck, she'll eat one too. Her other hand picks up a cookie too that she stuffs into her own mouth, biting down on on the slightly chewy brownie parts. Though she halts chewing when Bedivere starts explaining matters, and she blinks once, then twice.

    ... he is threatening to kill a guy because he kissed his girlfriend? Man, and here she thought Tony was clingy on Pepper!

    Still, there's something there in this voice. This is deadly serious to Bedivere, and nothing to joke about unless he wants to push him further off balance. Which doesn't seem like a good idea now. So Toph surpresses whatever comment she initially thought of delivering, instead she sighs and tries to figure out the right thing to say. "I know Lute is the king of dunderheads... heck, many people seem to have it in for him nowadays. And well... carrying all that rage like that can't be good for you, I can feel how /tense/ you are. She's your king, I get that, but..." Toph sighs. This is just great. How the heck can she say this without aggravating him? Some people just think so goddamn backwards! If you say things as they are they get so touchy feely, and that's frustrating when it's so much simpler to just get stuff sorted out! Augh!

    So instead Toph pushes herself up to her feet, then she moves to stand in front of Bedivere, still holding that cookie for him in one hand. "Can you fight him in a calm state of mind at least? I don't think it would be right for the sake of your king to fight in your current state."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Almost by rote, the silver-haired knight accepts the brownie. Cookie. Whatever it is. He wasn't paying attention when she introduced the confection, and he really doesn't care very much at this point. Neither does he seem interested in actually eating it, simply holding it carefully in his spare hand.

If he's not in control, he'll wind up accidentally squelching it in his hand, and although he's not familiar with what it is even he can recognise that it would be a mess. It wouldn't do to make more work for the poor servants; even he recognises, distantly, that they're jumpy enough.

There's a curious sound when Toph tries to express her protest. He doesn't put anything to voice, but it's a breath let out with force through his teeth, not quite a hiss. There's no way she's going him to drop this. On that count, he just won't listen to reason from anyone. It's possible even Saber herself couldn't convince him to drop it.

His eyes track her when she moves to stand in front of him, and he watches her with that barely-controlled emotion still just beneath the surface. She can't see it as most people do, but the focus of his gaze is almost scathing, even though he doesn't say a word; the tension in him tighter than the cutting-edge string of a violin.

Very slowly, his head cocks to one side as she asks him about calm.

Bedivere bares his teeth. The expression is too feral and ugly to be called a smile.

"No." Curiously, he doesn't seem at all bothered by that. Before she can get confused, he continues. "And that is the point. He does not deserve a clear head. I will fight him as I am, and I will make him bleed. I will make him suffer. And then I will make him die." The opposite hand, the one holding the whetstone, tightens around the rock again. A small piece sifts through his fingers and powders the flagstones beneath his feet. "But you do not understand."

"This state, this... anger... it is a thing unique to a people in my homeland. They are called the Saxons, and they once tried to overrun Albion. Raiders, murderers, and pillagers... they held no mercy for the gentle folk they slaughtered. In battle, they would work themselves to such a rage that they felt no pain; could not be stopped until they were brought low."

"I am not of those people, but I carry in my veins the blood of the people of the Saxons, the Ulaidh, and the folk of Alba. Warriors, all. And I carry the rage. I have let myself fight twice thus. The first battle would have been lost if not for the rage. The second battle... that was doomed to failure regardless of my actions."

"They were not expecting one among the British host who could match them in their wrath." Again he shows his teeth. "Lute is an Elite. He does not think much of me. I know that he does not understand at all what it is to be a knight. And I do not think that he understands what it will entail, for him, if I allow myself to be overcome by the rage."

With some effort he loosens his grip on the whetstone, and more pale dust sifts down to the floor. "I have never duelled a man before over a matter of honour. I will /break/ him. Kill him, if I can. I will take no pleasure from it, but my lady's honour will be satisfied. It will be right for the sake of my lady to avenge her honour."

Huh. 'My lady,' and not 'my king' or 'my lord.' Then again, it doesn't really take a genius to figure that out, considering the situation.

"But let me not bore you of such talk of vengeance. It is my oath to fulfill, and fulfill I shall." His eyes snap to Toph again, intense once more. "Do not swerve me from this path, for I will not be swayed; and do not interpose yourself between my goal and I, for I respect you and what you have done for this place too much, and he is not worth your defense."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    This is one hell of a lecture... The blind girl remains standing even as Bedivere takes the cookie. It's a start, even if he's not eating it yet. It should be clear from her expression that she doesn't really agree with everything Bedivere is saying, though she listens for now, letting him speak his angered mind before she speaks up.

    "... just how long do you plan on keeping that anger inside anyway?" she snorts and crosses her arms across her chest. "And I understand frustration at least and what fighting is about." Urgh, history lessons.

    "In case you didn't get the memo, Lute doesn't care much for people unless they have boobs. It's all he thinks about, of course he doesn't understand what it is to be a knight. Or honour for that matter." Then there's a pause before Toph arches an eyebrow.

    "Do /you/ understand what it will entail for you if you let rage overcome you and cloud your judgement?" she dares ask, though her expression is calm. "Because to me it doesn't sound like a duel. I say that this isn't about what he deserves, this is about what you," she states and points directly at him, heck, she'll stab him at the top of his torso unless he pulls away, "and your lady deserves. If you want to uphold her honour and prove yourself the bigger man, then fight like one! Believe me, I can hear your heart, your breathing... this is not /good/ for you! And if you really love Saber, then you will take care of yourself! Did she ask you do this, or is this a fuddy duddy tradition from way back that doesn't apply anymore?" She has heard enough, and well... Bedivere needs to hear this in her opinion.

    "I won't even try to talk you out fighting Lute, because honestly? He deserves it. But it takes far more skill, far more honour to keep a cold head on your shoulders while you spank his sorry little ass with the broadside of your sword like the little brat he is!" Toph snorts, and the huff of breath blows up some of her bangs, giving a slightly better view of her determined face as she 'stares' ahead. "Seriously. You and Saber are way too good to give him the full extent of your rage if you ask me. And I say this because I respect you two."

    The speech is then finished as Toph stuffs another cookie in her mouth, crunching away from crumbs around her mouth.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
By the look of it, being lectured doesn't really sit well with the silver-haired knight. He makes no move to stop her or interrupt her from her own lecture, though; she had the good grace to listen to him, and it would be impolite to cut her off, even if all he really wants to do right now is do something violent. He has better control over himself than people might suspect he does right now. A lesser man would have given up and gone on his rampage well before this point.

His heart quickens and his eyes widen a bit in clear anger at the latter half of her speech, particularly when he insults his traditions. There are very few people whom he allows to insult the tenets he lives by. Zero, in fact, no matter what good she might have done for this realm. Yet even still he doesn't interrupt her, although to do so he has to clench his jaw so tightly his teeth creak in protest.

Then, very carefully, he swallows the snarl he was going to answer her with. He takes a deep breath, and he lets it out slowly, through his nose. He's still angry -- there's no mistaking that, and he will be until he has the opportunity to wet his sword with the blood of Lute -- but slowly, oh so slowly, he seems to simmer down from that rage boiling just beneath the surface.

Either he takes to heart what she says, or he's very, very good at concealing his reaction. It could go either way.

He doesn't answer her for a few long, long moments, resuming the steady scrape of whetstone on his sword, one-handed, because he's still holding a cookie in his other hand. Which, after a few scrapes of the whetstone, he takes a cautious bite of. It proves more chewy than he'd anticipated, and it takes him a few minutes to clear his mouth enough to speak again.

He waits a moment more, as though considering his words carefully. "And here I had expected you to convince me that it would be more 'honourable' not to challenge Lute. I am glad you did not try to convince me of that, for I would have asked you to leave. It is a matter of honour, and dignity, and I have already given him my solemn word that he will die by my blade." He cocks his head slightly at the cookie, eyeing it somewhat dubiously. Messy, but strangely delicious. After a moment his eyes flick back to the earthbender.

"However." The word is spoken softly, so softly. "Know this, for it is all the warning I will give you: Do not insult my traditions again. Not to my face. Not to my king's. Not to Sir Gawain, or even Sir Mordred. Our honour and our traditions are what we live by. We have fought for them, bled for them, and died for them, that they might make the world we live in, or lived in, a better place. Do not insult them, for in so doing, you insult the sacrifices we have all of us of the Round Table made. And I will not allow my brothers and my king insulted so."

Silence falls for a moment, more absolute even than Dun Realtai's frigid winter, and it's a long moment or two to thaw.

He doesn't speak again, and the rhythmic scrape of stone against steel resumes.

"I appreciate your concern," he finally says, so soft the sound of the whetstone almost drowns it out.

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    It's easy enough to tell that he does not like what she has to say. But even so Toph does not back down, and she speaks clearly and with purpose. Though she winces from the sound of him clenching his jaw, though it's mostly from the sound. Sheesh, how tense can you get?!

    If there is something Toph is, it's patient. She chews her own cookie where she stands, listening as Bedivere munches on his own. When he finally does speak through, Toph arches an eyebrow as she chews. And she does speak with some crumbs still in her mouth. "Fighting is totally honourable. It all depends on how you fight." Heh, she kind of fought one of her allies in the Union to defend Tony's honour. Sort of. What little honour her adoptive father has, some might say. His next words however earns a deadpan look from Toph. And her expression is somewhat sour when Bedivere gives her that warning. And her tone is just slightly huffy when she responds.

    "I did /not/ say those things to insult your traditions. It's like when you thought I meant you disrespect when I gave you a nickname. Sheesh..." It's so bothersome with how some people think! She holds up a hand, just to make sure he gives her a moment to gather her throughts. "Just... okay, it's like this. Traditions can be a good thing, but... you shouldn't let them blind you. If Twitchy," Faruja, "were to follow his church's traditions after unification he would consider most of us heretics." If only people knew how many times Toph has indeed made the rat priest live up to his nickname by her carefree attitude? "You have to use your head and heart too. Otherwise what good are they...?"

    The soft comment earns a sigh as well, and Toph munches more on her cookie. "I'm an earthbender, and I will act like one. Which means that I will speak my mind, even if I might step on a few toes here and toes. I won't hesitate, and I might seem stubborn and rough. But... I don't mean any disrespect to your knighthood. If I don't give a crud about something, you will /know/. I say this because I /care/." Her expression is serious, and... somewhat sad. "Maybe it's because I have been bound by rules and traditions before." But at least Bedivere has chosen this for himself, at least.

    With that Toph kicks the floor, and her satchel is knocked up from the floor and into her waiting hand before she starts heading towards the door. "I have said what I wanted to say. I hope that you're Buddyvere the next time we speak."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
For most of the lecture, the knight doesn't respond. Apparently he decides he doesn't have much to say about it, or he's come to the same conclusion that, while fighting is something he dislikes, it is sometimes necessary and indeed honourable.

He is a peaceable man, but some things can and will cause him to draw his sword. It's a short list, an exceedingly short one, but it's there. Those reasons exist, and Lute managed to find them in just about the worst way.

"Yes." His voice is still flat in just the right way that suggests he's controlling it tightly. "I understand that. Tradition is something I made peace with many years ago. I discarded many, and adopted others, when I became a knight, for it meant leaving my homeland, and I would never return to that place. So too did coming to this place, this 'multiverse,' entail change. For change is necessary, to survive in the multiverse." Again, just a thread of anger, a hint of what lies beneath. "But there are some things I will not discard by the wayside. And that is one of them."

"It is my sacred duty to safeguard my king. I swore that oath before the Round Table and before the Lord God to uphold that to the best of my abilities. But that is not all. It is the sacred duty of her knights to also uphold her honour, and her dignity, for it is our duty as her vassals and it is expected that a knight defend his lord's honour, as much as he would defend the honour of his brothers-in-arms. Perhaps you think it archaic, or strange. I have never cared for my own honour, in point of fact, when many times I would have been in my right to bare steel in the defense of my own dignity." His lips thin. "But I /will not/ see her dishonoured so."

"Do not worry yourself for me. I have faced far worse than this situation and I have not died." He smiles, thinly, but the expression seems a little sour. "I once faced several dozen Saxon warriors alone, because they had killed my men, and they would have killed my king if they could separate her from her troops, and anyway, I would not have surrendered to the likes of the sea-wolves. The rage took me then, and yet I survived that battle. They were many, although I know not whether they were 'Elites' or not, simply that they were very dangerous, and would give no quarter to their opponents, and never did. He is one. I will survive this battle, as well."

He falls silent, turning his sword so it flashes in the firelight. "Perhaps you have been bound by rule and tradition before. But by the same token, allow me to offer you advice. Do not let your desire to be free of it blind you, either. Act contrary to such things if that is what you feel you must do. But do not reject it simply because it is there to reject. That is foolish, and there are some traditions worth following, even to you."

He glances over to her when she gives her last statement, regarding her flatly for a moment or two. For a moment he almost seems about to say something, before shaking his head and turning back to his sword-sharpening.

"So too do I."