Hrimfaxi: Hrimfaxi moved page Le Mortefication d'Arturia to 999999/Le Mortefication d'Arturia without leaving a redirect

2015-11-25T20:17:55Z

Hrimfaxi moved page Le Mortefication d'Arturia to 999999/Le Mortefication d'Arturia without leaving a redirect

ForwardObserver: Tidying up some rouge HTML

2014-12-25T00:01:08Z

Tidying up some rouge HTML

ForwardObserver: Adding in some missing poses

2014-08-31T17:51:34Z

Adding in some missing poses

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Hrimfaxi at 01:33, 26 July 2014

2014-07-26T01:33:13Z

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Hrimfaxi at 07:32, 25 July 2014

2014-07-25T07:32:05Z

Hrimfaxi: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2014/07/19 |Location=Njorun Station - Ring of Philosophy / Fuyuki City |Synopsis=The Servant Saber pays a visit to Njorun Station, only to meet wit..."

2014-07-25T07:30:54Z

Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2014/07/19 |Location=Njorun Station - Ring of Philosophy / Fuyuki City |Synopsis=The Servant Saber pays a visit to Njorun Station, only to meet wit..."

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 :'''{{#var:482|Sir Bedivere (482)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>Perhaps he had not been expecting the king to drop her mask. She had always been guarded, though it had pained him on some level to see her sacrifice herself for the sake of her people. Not that he did not admire that, or respect that – but it saddened him, somewhat, to know that she had put her people before herself to such an extent. Never had he seen her so much as smile. Some part of him had always wanted to see that, impossible as it may have been.<br /><br />So when she favoured him with that gentle smile, his reaction is to blink owlishly, and to stare. At least his mouth isn't hanging open this time, but his expression is one of obvious puzzlement.<br /><br />"My King?" Never had he presumed closeness with her, although he trusted her with his life, and always he had observed the correct and proper titles. So strong a habit is that that he does so even now, head cocked like a curious hound.<br /><br />And he continues to stare, because it's just plain odd to see her without her kingly raiment; her richly adorned armour.<br /><br />Bedivere can do little more than stare, for a few moments.<br /><br />"No, my lord, you were not interrupting anything." He finally remembers himself, head straightening, though he remains on one knee. He wouldn't presume to rise until told to do so; he would never breach the rules of etiquette so. "But if it would please my lord to do something else, I will put up my sword. I... I did not expect meet with you here." He shakes his head and stares, and a smile even threatens the corners of his own mouth – only through effort does he stop the smile, though he can't completely banish it from his voice. "I had despaired of ever meeting again. My lord had slept so soundly on the shore of the lake, I had feared my lord dead..."<br /><br />He shakes his head, looking to the ground, hair falling across his face. (Quite a few suspect he's a woman. Quite a few are wrong.)<br /><br />"No training is as important as to meet with you again." He looks up, sudden fire in eyes that are otherwise so mild. "I am yours to command, my lord. Now and ever."<br> <br>
-:'''{{#var:346|Saber (346)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>His formality was at once so familiar that it was almost nostalgic, yet in some ways alien. Out of everyone she had met in the past three years, only Harry addressed her as 'Your Majesty' and only fellow knights such as Agrias addressed her as a peer in their respective knighthoods. Those who could sense something of royalty in her found themselves sitting up a little straighter or sometimes curbing coarse language, but it wasn't the same thing as living in the middle of court, insisting on maintaining a level of protocol necessary to reassure the people that the king would protect them and rule them wisely and fairly. The modern era was more informal than otherwise, and Arturia, in spite of her generally hidebound ways, had become accustomed to it.<br /></br />Beneath her mask, one of the feelings she had buried was to grant her knights the companionship they longed for; before she was a king, Arturia was a knight. It was only natural that the camaraderie that could only come from those who had faced death on the battlefield and returned was something that knights and soldiers wanted to share, but to her people, the King of knights had to become the king first. Friendship, family and a normal human life were sacrifices that needed to be made, and she had accepted that. But it meant that there were some wishes that she could not grant, lest accusations of favouritism tear the court apart.<br /></br />Or so she had believed. Other tragedies she had been unable to prevent tore the kingdom apart instead, and rebellion brought her dream -- and her life -- to an end. The Holy Grail had granted her a chance to correct it, only to be a tainted relic with no other purpose than opening a path to Akasha for a Master upon sacrificing his own Servant. At first, Saber decided to seek out a different method; if the Grail could not grant her wish, surely a multiverse with limitless opportunities would. Yet, while the means to save Camelot might yet exist, she had some to see her past as perhaps something best left untampered with. What Iskander could not convince her of, precious friends led her to, seeing their lives as important as her duty to her people. Where she had failed Britain, she would succeed with Sakura, Rin, Agrias, Psyber, Harry, and countless others of the Union. And beyond that, Arymes Prydain had hinted at another possibility...though for the moment, perhaps the Abstractum did not feel that she was quite ready to hear of it.<br /></br />It took a moment for her to step back into role, if for no other reason than to let the man get back on his feet. "Rise, Sir Bedivere," she said, straightening a little more. Impressive, considering that even when informal, Saber's posture was impeccable.  And yet, she was unable to don the impassive mask completely; the smile was still there.<br> <br>
+:'''{{#var:346|Saber (346)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>His formality was at once so familiar that it was almost nostalgic, yet in some ways alien. Out of everyone she had met in the past three years, only Harry addressed her as 'Your Majesty' and only fellow knights such as Agrias addressed her as a peer in their respective knighthoods. Those who could sense something of royalty in her found themselves sitting up a little straighter or sometimes curbing coarse language, but it wasn't the same thing as living in the middle of court, insisting on maintaining a level of protocol necessary to reassure the people that the king would protect them and rule them wisely and fairly. The modern era was more informal than otherwise, and Arturia, in spite of her generally hidebound ways, had become accustomed to it.<br /><br />Beneath her mask, one of the feelings she had buried was to grant her knights the companionship they longed for; before she was a king, Arturia was a knight. It was only natural that the camaraderie that could only come from those who had faced death on the battlefield and returned was something that knights and soldiers wanted to share, but to her people, the King of knights had to become the king first. Friendship, family and a normal human life were sacrifices that needed to be made, and she had accepted that. But it meant that there were some wishes that she could not grant, lest accusations of favouritism tear the court apart.<br /><br />Or so she had believed. Other tragedies she had been unable to prevent tore the kingdom apart instead, and rebellion brought her dream -- and her life -- to an end. The Holy Grail had granted her a chance to correct it, only to be a tainted relic with no other purpose than opening a path to Akasha for a Master upon sacrificing his own Servant. At first, Saber decided to seek out a different method; if the Grail could not grant her wish, surely a multiverse with limitless opportunities would. Yet, while the means to save Camelot might yet exist, she had some to see her past as perhaps something best left untampered with. What Iskander could not convince her of, precious friends led her to, seeing their lives as important as her duty to her people. Where she had failed Britain, she would succeed with Sakura, Rin, Agrias, Psyber, Harry, and countless others of the Union. And beyond that, Arymes Prydain had hinted at another possibility...though for the moment, perhaps the Abstractum did not feel that she was quite ready to hear of it.<br /><br />It took a moment for her to step back into role, if for no other reason than to let the man get back on his feet. "Rise, Sir Bedivere," she said, straightening a little more. Impressive, considering that even when informal, Saber's posture was impeccable.  And yet, she was unable to don the impassive mask completely; the smile was still there.<br> <br>
 :'''{{#var:482|Sir Bedivere (482)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>Although it was something he had longed for, companionship had been an unattainable goal for Bedivere; he had learned to content himself merely to serve, to the best of his abilities, and ease the burden from his liege in that manner. She would never need to worry herself about his conduct, and any tasks she gave to him would be carried out to the utmost of his abilities and in the highest of integrity. The least he could do, he had once reasoned, would be easing her burdens that way.<br /><br />Some of the other Knights of the Round had come into suspicion; their conduct and their honour had been sullied by their own actions. Bedivere only prayed that he would never fall to such depths, but more than that, he prayed that he might never disappoint his liege so. Her approval meant everything to him; more than that, it meant everything to him to be able to claim such high honour.<br /><br />He could not envision himself without knighthood. It was as natural to him as breathing.<br /><br />Bedivere cocks his head slightly, and that air of puzzlement is still settled about him when he regards the King of Knights, the King of Britain, his liege; the one whom he had so ardently served for so many years. He frowns, but not out of disappointment. It's simple puzzlement. Saber might even find the expression amusing. He just seems so uncomprehending at that faint smile of hers.<br /><br />"My lord." His acknowledgement does seem a little hollow when he finally climbs to his feet, the plates of his armour clanking faintly. "Is aught amiss...?"<br /><br />In other words, surely there's a reason why you're smiling like a lunatic, because that's starting to creep me out, the question seems to say. Bedivere is too hidebound to actually say as much, but his concern is noticeable. More to the point, who are you, and what have you done with the real King Arturia?<br /><br />There's a moment or two of awkward silence in which Bedivere brushes imaginary grit from the plates protecting his knees; or from the hem of his unsullied white cloak. He folds his arms, and for a few seconds more, he seems completely at a loss as to what to do.<br /><br />His armoured shoulders slump, very slightly.<br /><br />"Ah..." It's more a breath than a sigh, and his head bows, hair falling across his eyes. The great sigh he gives after that is definitely a sigh, and it seems like a breath that had been pent-up for years. It's hard to tell whether it's a breath of regret or relief, but after a few moments, it seems that it must surely be the latter. "It is so good to see you alive and hale, my lord. I had feared the worst..."<br /><br />He looks up with a tiny, somewhat uncertain smile of his own. It fades after a moment, and again he seems a little puzzled; mystified by Saber's own show of emotion, however restrained it might be.<br /><br />Bedivere had in time become accustomed to the mask, and if he had suspected some of the king's fears, he had never spoken on them. He had simply accepted her behaviour, and accepted serving her to the best of his ability; the very role model of a good, loyal knight – no ulterior motives and no hidden agendas, with Bedivere. There was only service, and only his unshakeable loyalty to his liege-lord Arturia.<br /><br />To see anything but the mask is extremely disconcerting, to go by the naked puzzlement on his face.<br /><br />"It is you. I see it in your eyes, though your behaviour be strange to me – why do you smile so? Has something happened? Tell me; are you safe? Are you hale?" Now he sounds worried, and though he barely moves, shifting his weight, his eyes betray his concern. "Please, my lord, if you lack for anything, tell me. I will see to it."<br /><br />Oh God, what's wrong with her? Why is she smiling? Poor Bedivere. He doesn't quite seem to know how to deal with that. Well, at least he seems to have the best of intentions heart, still.<br /><br />Sir Bedivere of Camelot seems not to have changed in the least.<br> <br>

← Older revision	Revision as of 20:17, 25 November 2015
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 {{Log Header
-|Date of Scene=2014/07/19
+|Date of Scene=2014/07/04
 |Location=Njorun Station - Ring of Philosophy / Fuyuki City
 |Synopsis=The Servant Saber pays a visit to Njorun Station, only to meet with a very familiar face, indeed...

999999/Le Mortefication d'Arturia - Revision history

Hrimfaxi: Hrimfaxi moved page Le Mortefication d'Arturia to 999999/Le Mortefication d'Arturia without leaving a redirect

ForwardObserver: Tidying up some rouge HTML

ForwardObserver: Adding in some missing poses

Hrimfaxi at 01:33, 26 July 2014

Hrimfaxi at 07:32, 25 July 2014

Hrimfaxi: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2014/07/19 |Location=Njorun Station - Ring of Philosophy / Fuyuki City |Synopsis=The Servant Saber pays a visit to Njorun Station, only to meet wit..."