2054/The Water Is Wide

The Water Is Wide
Date of Scene:	19 April 2015
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	A weary Yari Takane visits Dun Realtai and has a brief chat with Saber, with some unexpected consequences following the arrival of Sir Bedivere...
Cast of Characters:	346, 482, 691

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Saber (346) has posed:
     Spring had at long last come to the winter-plagued land of Dun Realtai, with the help of a certain tanuki. The last of the snows had melted away, and where once the land was barren and devoid of life, there were now flowering trees, the fiddleheads of woodland ferns, soft needles of grasses, and carpets of blue and white spring flowers. Light breezes brought with them the delicate scent of lilies-of-the-valley and bluebells, though still devoid of birdsong or other sounds of wildlife. Yet, there was the hint that they would return soon enough.

     The day was pleasant, a perfect balance of sun and breeze, not too cold yet neither too hot. In short, it was not a very good day to simply remain indoors. Many of the villagers were already about, readying for the last of the early morning frosts to begin the breaking of the ground and the sowing of the crops making up their livelihood. Once more, the aid of the outsiders had not merely saved them, but improved their quality of life considerably. Even now, some farmers studied the plans they had been given to alter their crop rotations and field layouts, implementing techniques which promised to nearly triple their expected yields. The work would be as rigorous as always, but the people were far too proud and stubborn to accept having /everything/ done for them. New techniques and even crops they would accept...so long as the source of their pride -- their work -- was not taken away from them. Fortunately, their new lord and lady were from a similar world and era, and rather than trying to encourage the people to simply adopt new technology, merely gave them new tools to help them in their tasks. Likewise, they had not turned down the new steel tools which resisted the breakage of their previous ones.

     Strangely, the lady of the land was not among them today as she usually was to help plan for the harvesting. Instead, the Servant Saber could be found seated beneath the great oak tree on the grounds of the keep, engaged in a very serious practise with a careworn lap harp. Her brow furrowed in concentration, plucking at the strings gingerly, frowning when she struck the occasional wrong note. it might seem almost comical with the amount of gravity she treated her practise with. But then, she had a very good reason to seek perfection.

Yari Takane (691) has posed:
Yari hasn't yet reached the cynical level of some of her superiors, and so the beautiful weather and hard-working people is something she can appreciate. Maybe a little too much as she uncharacteristically walks her way to the village. She's come dressed in the red dress and heels obtained during a shopping trip with some of her Multiversal friends, the garment flapping a bit in the wind. Every now and then, she'll greet a passing villager or two in her usual way: that stiff salute that she still can't quite get rid of. Yari makes little attempt to hide her passage. She might even be a somewhat common sight by now, given her distinctive horns, scales, and tendency to hog the baths whenever she has half a chance.

Really, Dun Realtai is a place of rest, and with such disturbing news from Coerthas and her upcoming increase in responsibility thanks to her Legatus dealing with matters of the same, she's taken something of a day of absence. It's music that draws her into the Keep itself. Missed notes. Imperfection. She's no master bard, but her work and natural talents have always lended themselves to such things.

Yari walks into the keep, barely avoiding a scowl at every missed note.

"I didn't take you for a musician, Miss Saber." Pause. Blink. Her mouth opens, then shuts.

Thankfully she's polite enough to not lay into the woman immediately. For about ten seconds.

"You're using too much pressure. Be gentle about it. It's a string, not a sword. Here."

If Saber will let her, she'll reach over, and very slowly strum a few strings like water gliding over rocks. No master indeed, but competent. It does help that she keeps using those claw-tips as 'picks' of sorts.

Saber (346) has posed:
     The flaxen-haired knight had been concentrating so intensely on her practise that she quite uncharacteristically missed Yari's entrance. It would have been a disgrace and an unforgivable lapse in her vigilance had it not been for the fact that the place she now called home was a haven...not only for her, but for a number of others, not the least of which was the Centurion. Perhaps in technical terms they were enemies, but it was hardly the first time she was on amicable terms with someone on the opposite end of the battlefield.

     Hopefully, this would not end up the same way, though fortunately neither of them were combatants in the Holy Grail War.

     as it was, the Servant was slightly startled when she was addressed, looking up from her hands on the strings. "Ah...well, I begun learning not long ago, I had never had the opportunity before..."

     and then, at her criticism, Yari would be treated to a rare sight. Though only a bare hint of an expression, a brief pout crossed Arturia's face. It faded into an almost exasperated expression, coupled with a sigh, when the Au Ra plucked a few strings. Though muted, for someone as subtle as Saber, it might as well have been obvious that she was frustrated. "It did not seem audible enough with a lighter touch. Yet stronger, and it becomes more difficult to play."

     But the moment passed, and her expression dissolved again into mild curiosity. "I had not anticipated a visit, in truth. Shall I prepare some tea?" she asked, already making to get up from her seat.

Yari Takane (691) has posed:
Perhaps thankfully for all involved, the entire idea of a Holy Grail War as she's heard of the topic sounds tantamount to worshipping an Eikon in a very twisted and violent sense. Fighting others for something as ridiculous as a 'wish granting device' is the height of stupidity to the Centurion, distrusting all things primarily composed of magic and enslaving others as she does.

It'd be a horrible day for the Multiverse if a /Garlean/ obtained the Grail.

Even /with the admission of Saber being new to the craft, Yari's the picture of a stern tutor as she shows Saber once again proper posture for playing such stringed instruments.

"Instruments like these need quick fingers, light touches, and a /flow/. Music has to build, like a stream slowly eroding the land around it. From a mere trickle, up to a roaring river. Don't try to suddenly change how hard you pluck. Slightly harder, slightly louder, until your every touch is as smooth as the lightest of flicks on the strings."

Cough. Then she's standing up. Her tail wiggles a bit.

"I don't want to distract you from your lesson, but if you're thirsty, tea would be nice." There's a wince here. As much as she had a fun time with Ferham and Sanary a night or two ago, the hangover was terrible.

Then she smiles a bit, victory swelling from that little pout. REally, it was cute.

"I try to make it a point to be noticed as little as possible. It suits me. How's the village? Seemed lively today." For now, it seems, smalltalk is the order of the day. Still, one brow is slightly tilted and her body seems slightly stiff. Could something be bothering the woman?

Saber (346) has posed:
     On the one hand, obtaining the Grail was luckily nowhere near worship, and it was dubious that it was, in truth, anything more than a magus's shortcut to the Root. Unfortunately, whatever had tainted it had turned it from a holy artefact which could arguably change destiny into a horribly twisted thing which would have granted wishes in only the most disastrous of ways. In some ways, it was not altogether unlike summoning a Primal...a Primal which had become so utterly corrupted that it would destroy most of the world with it's full activation.

     Saber had already resolved to finding a more efficient means of granting her wish, and learning of its true status caused her to abandon Heaven's Feel entirely. However, that hardly meant that there were not other versions currently being waged, not the least of which was Gawain's. So far, she had been unsuccessful in dissuading him from fighting it further.

     But for the moment, those worries were set aside. her expression was almost sour at the chiding. Here she thought she had improved since Bedivere had began teaching her. Then again, perhaps she was rushing things too much. "I shall take that into consideration," she replied diplomatically.

     Standing, she shook her head with a faint smile. "It is no trouble. moreover, my first duty is hospitality, as the lady of this land."

     As she led Yari to the Great Hall, she silently noted how stiff she seemed. Particularly harsh training, perhaps? "Mm. Indeed. The planting season shall begin once the last of the frost has dispersed. We anticipate it shall be within the next month. And the people are preparing as best they can....and with admirable spirit," she added, unable to hide the note of pride in her voice. Though they were not her people by birthright, in some ways, she had adopted them regardless.

Yari Takane (691) has posed:
There's a swift nod to Saber. "Good." One last stern glance, and then the lizard-woman softens a bit.

It's easy to relax here, really, and so she follows inside. She'll find herself her usual seat, crossing her legs and leaning back slightly like some lounge lizardess.

Stubborn souls has Yari grinning just a touch.

"The Multiverse needs more hard workers. It's easy to go soft. And honesty the breeze is nice, some decent weather here would be very nice." Nevermind that she's all but salivating to see what kind of wines or beers that a fresh harvest can bring in.

But Yari finally gets to the point, and lets out a sigh. Her tail droops a touch.

"Has the Lord of this place always been so paranoid? I hate to be that blunt about things. And I can understand wariness. But to hear him tell things, he thinks I'm going to poison half the people here."

Not that she /couldn't/, but she's not one to harm such a useful meeting grounds.

Saber (346) has posed:
     It was probably a good thing, she admitted grudgingly, to have a more harsh opinion. Bedivere's ears were likely to be even more sensitive with his fili training, yet there was never a word of complaint. The marshal had nothing but gentle encouragement for her, which she appreciated, but in his absence she found herself increasingly frustrated with her efforts, striking the strings more harshly out of frustration than she should. And more than simply being soothed, she wanted to improve, to be able to play /well/.

     All her effort was, after all, for his sake.

     It was also just as well that she paused when she had, she had already been at it all morning. Surely a short break would do no harm, particularly for some tea and company?

     Disappearing into the kitchens, the Servant returned shortly thereafter with a tray of tea and scones. Blueberry, a treat from another continent which she could easily see the appeal of. She seated herself after serving them both with the same practiced, regal grace which she could not simply turn off like a switch, so long had she lived her life projecting that image of perfection. "Yes, it is certainly a refreshing change from the previous weather..."

     Well now, that was certainly a line of thought she had expected, eventually.

     "Consider this," the blonde knight replied, leaning forward slightly to retrieve her cup. "Imagine, if you will, that your sweetheart was also your liege. You pledged your sword to her as your liege to act as her defender, to protect her from any and all threats great and small. In carrying out your sworn duties, you began to trust others less in your service to protect her from any perceived threat. Anyone who so much as whispered dissatisfaction is treated as a potential traitor, and with good reason; for her enemies were many. Her court was an intricate dance of treachery, and those who could not wheedle their way into her good graces sought out other scorned nobles, and it was only through your vigilance that she was protected from rebellion for as long as she was."

     "Now, imagine that she was lost to you, and just when you had lost all hope and will to live, you found her again and renewed your pledge to serve her. When once you were merely vigilant, now, you are almost paranoid, baring your fangs at any potential threat to her person. Only now, she is no longer the liege you would follow to the ends of your world, but your feelings for her have not gone unanswered. She had longed for you just as you longed for her, and she in turn has pledged herself to you."

     The blonde knight leaned back, settling into her chair. "I imagine that you would be constantly on guard for even the slightest threat against her. If you can imagine yourself in that position, you can understand where my marshal is coming from. Do not take it personally...it is easy for me to be so cavalier with my existence...not as a Servant, but as a warrior."

     She smiled slightly. "Indeed, it is a poor warrior who cannot have confidence in his skills." Her smile faded once more into a more thoughtful mien. "However, I can afford to be more cavalier with my existence. Though I am not dead as other Servants, I am not truly alive, either."

     The flaxen-haired knight shook her head. "That said, my marshal cannot afford to be so flippant. In truth, I am no longer able to simply treat him as simply one of my knights...indeed, I was never truly able. It was only because of the greater good of my kingdom...which has long since fallen. Now, I can protect him as he protects me. And now, these people are his responsibility, as well. I do not doubt that you would object to an order to, for example, poison the people of this village. I think that you would regret, and feel sorrow." Jade eyes bored directly into those of the au Ra, her expression neutral. "Yet, for your lord, you would do so, would you not? As a loyal knight, you would not disobey a direct order. Just as he would not."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
There are footsteps heading towards the location of the knight and ninja, purposeful and brisk. Arturia would immediately recognise them; alone among the villagers, only the Knight of the Dal Riata has such a brisk and dutiful pace, even when he isn't committed to some task or another. The people here are hardy and dutiful, but he goes well above and beyond in his dedication to what he perceives as duty.

In from the courtyard he comes, easing the door shut behind him and wearily hanging his mantled cloak on the peg beside the door. He's wearing his blue steel hauberk, but he looks dusty, as though he'd been riding; and he smells of horses.

Bedivere doesn't seem to notice them, taking a moment to fastidiously stamp the mud out of his boots, shake leaves -- leaves, by God! -- out of his cloak, and generally clean himself up so he doesn't track things all over the keep. He, unlike many men, is as fastidious as a cat in his cleanliness.

As of yet, he hasn't taken notice of his company yet; he knows Arturia is here, her presence a comfortable constant. Nor has he noticed yet that they're deep in evident conversation; ears still ringing, perhaps, from the wind skirling outside.

Yari Takane (691) has posed:
Yari, all throughout the explaination, finds herself first utterly happy that she has yet to be embroiled in her own nation's politics, and then sipping tea hastily as the stray thought of the Lord Legatus enters her mind. Shudder. The thought is brushed away. She has enough nightmares as it stands.

The big picture of Bedivere slowly forms. A man, forced to deal with petty politics, rebellion, stife and a dance that in many ways sickens the duty-driven, boots-tothe-ground soldier that is Yari Takane. An assassination is one thing. Playing at treaties, assuaging some noble, it's all something that boils her blood. It shows in the tenseness to her features that she tries to hide in a teacup.

Finally, she lets out a sigh. Even as one eye meets Jade, frowning, she realizes she's in a corner. If the Lord Legatus orders it, deep done, she knows she'd do it. And she'd loathe herself for hurting such people that she's come to admire and respect.

But there's very little she wouldn't do for her country if it came down to her. Claws rake at the table before her. The truth, indeed, is painful if one faces it so directly.

"...I think I've said this before, but I really hate politics. People like to say that war is worse, but..." Is it better to infight and backstab from within, or turn agression to others? It's a philosophical discussion Yari's feeling suddenly unprepared for.

"I'll just hope, then, that the man I believe in really is what he seems to be."

But then in strides Bedivere, and Yari stands utterly straight, knocking over her teacup. She's staring at the man, eyes wide in surprise. /Definitely/ not your normal reaction from her.

Saber (346) has posed:
     For all of her pointing out that Yari's first loyalty remained to her own country, Arturia remained almost blase with regards to it, as if merely stating facts. Which, naturally, she was. There were no accusations, no resentment, no anger. An with good reason.

     "I once sought to rewrite the entire history of my world for the sake of my kingdom," the Servant replied almost blandly. "The courseof future events would be forever altered, but my first duty, my first loyalty, was to Prydein."

     The King of Knights was in a unique position to observe both war and politics...and many times, it was difficult to tell them apart. In trtuh, she hardly cared for them much, either. "Politics /is/ war, though of a different sort," she replied, cradling her teacup. "I despise the death that war brings, yet politics can bring about death and destruction in its own way. Yet, the battles require even more cunning, and they are rife with treachery."

     Leaning back again, she once more turned a placid gaze back on the dragon-kin, her answer cryptic. "I hope that, for your sake, he is."

     Even before she could hear the tell-tale footsteps and scent the horse he had been riding, the Servant could sense the approach of her Master through their preternatural link. Just in time for her to finish what she had been saying to the Centurion, too...that would have been rather embarrassing for him to overhear. "Welcome back..." she started with a faint smile, only to be interrupted by a teacup being knocked over. That, by contrast, was something of a surprise. "Are you hale, Lady Yari?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
It's the sound of a teacup that draws the marshal's attention, turning in the midst of shaking out his cloak, and staring somewhat owlishly at the two women. In turn, the more unexpected of the two is staring at him with the kind of focus that makes his skin crawl; the kind that sets a precise spot between his shoulder blades to itching.

It's the instinct of danger, one that had saved him on the battlefield many a time.

He stares at them blankly for a good ten seconds, before all the warmth seems to leach out of him. He doesn't trust Yari Takane, he doesn't trust the Garlean Empire, and he doesn't trust having a prominent member of the Fourteenth Legion here in the place he has taken stewardship of.

"Centurion," he states, somewhat coldly.

Arturia receives a more cordial incline of his head, but there's none of the warmth in it that he might show behind closed doors. "My king."

An awkward second or three of silence tick by, broken only by the sound of distant wind, Dun Realtai's thick walls reducing it from a high skirl to a soft sigh. His suspicion is blatant, and he makes no effort to hide it, staring at Yari with slightly narrowed eyes. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword; although it seems a subtle enough gesture, to Arturia, it might as well scream his sudden discomfort and prickling suspicion.

"...Why do you stare at me so?"

Yari Takane (691) has posed:
Yari briefly closes her eyes. For all that Saber is so blase about the whole thing, she can just be so frightening in an odd way. Since when were people so used to war, death, and betrayal?

When did Yari herself become so numb to it all?

"Then I suppose if I ever want to see my own dreams come true, I have to get used to even politics." She mutters, tail flicking about in intense dissatisfaction. She's always been a woman of action, the Centurion. Too much introspection makes her restless.

There's a bitter smirk. "I've gambled a little too much for him to not be." It's a weak attempt at a joke, and even perhaps a bit naieve. But she has to hope that she hasn't fallen in with the wrong side of history.

At first, she doesn't hear Saber, too busy awkwardly staring into Bedivere's shoulder. Another few, long, deeply uncomfortable moments? Her head tilts in a slightly irritated manner. Maybe she can understand the man, and his concerns now.

But by the Emperor, he pisses her off by his very presence sometimes. "...Mister Bedivere. Bad week. Ignore it." She states bluntly, looking back to Saber.

"I...no. I'll be in the baths. Excuse me. Thank you for the tea." She suddenly snaps a hard salute, soldierly mask slipped right back on, and she walks out in a textbook marching lope.

Saber (346) has posed:
     "Politics is as much of a reality as war," Saber replied, though this time a hint of her hatred for them flickered across her face. "What I seek here, in Dun Realtai, is a land free of such things. There will always be disagreements, and some small amount of politics...but the sort which bring nations to ruin will not take root here." Here, the subtle fire of her determination and ironclad will surfaced, the hint at what an unfortunate enemy would face should they ever threaten Dun Realtai in any way.

     Behind her neutral mask, Arturia suppressed a sigh. Though bound by the Laws of Hospitality, Bedivere would break even the ancient laws with no hesitation if he perceived her to be in danger. The Centurion already set him on edge -- honourable or not, Confederates were as much enemies as the Saxons and Mordred's rebels had been -- and if he felt she was enough of a threat to his liege, he would take leave of his usual calm and good sense in a heartbeat. It was his traditional duty to protect her, even more now that their relationship had changed, and she would not demand something so unreasonable as to simply stop being so protective.

     No, her concern was to protect him in turn, to keep his sense of virtue intact and prevent him from feeling cornered and forced to violate Brehon Law for her sake.

     But she need not have worried when Yari beat a hasty retreat to her favourite pasttime in Dun Realtai. Standing, she nodded to the Garlean. "You are welcome. I was glad to have had the chance to speak with you again."

     Turning back to the one she trusted most in the world, she allowed her mask to drop, betraying the hint of sorrow. In some ways, she could see the tragedy of their own history playing out again. "Worry not, I am hale," she reassured him as best she could. "I shall explain...but later."

     In priivate.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The silver-haired knight frowns, even as the Confederate Centurion very abruptly takes her leave. Although he's not going to argue with that, about as comfortable in her presence as a hart among wolves, the abruptness of it still seems strange.

He's left somewhat perplexed, although it's hidden behind his mask of cold disapproval. Gradually, that mask fades as it becomes clear Yari has no intention of returning; he glances aside to Arturia, expression softening as she seems to drop her own guard as well.

Even as he leans down to press a brief kiss to the top of her head, arms briefly wrapping around her, he still looks a little perplexed. Ultimately shakes his head when he straightens.

"As you wish, my love," he murmurs quietly. No one is in earshot any longer; he can use the names and titles he wouldn't ordinarily. "I think I will retire for the evening; I will see you later, then."

One hand trails along her shoulder as he releases her, turning and trudging towards the stairwell and rubbing wearily at his face as he does.