Scene #304:

Owner	Pose
Faruja	No matter how his life may be going, Faruja is hardly one to turn down tea. Particularly not from ones such as Ser Bedivere, and the good Dame Saber. Knowing well by now the Marshal's tendencies towards formality, Faruja has donned his best robes and armor, the iconography more than visible where the robes part and the sleeves have been lopped off. There's no 'witchcraft' either; the rat is content to walk rather than give the poor man a fright, only grumbling mildly as his leg protests. Entering the library, his single natural eye peers about. "Hail!" He calls out, voice carrying despite how quiet he's trying to be. It /is/ a library, after all.
Saber	While the mannerisms and demeanour of the King of Knights was indeed formal, some time in the multiverse had worn that down somewhat. To many, it might appear that the petite young woman (though she could pass for a pretty young man) dressed in the three-piece suit she usually wore for business outings carried herself with rigid formality. But for Saber herself, her posture was fairly relaxed as she carried a small stack of books to the table where her long-suffering marshal was currently seated. He could no doubt feel the deep frown marring her face, even as she needed no words to convey her thoughts. /I already told you once. Take a break. These aren't going anywhere and you can barely think straight right now, anyway./ She wasn't /trying/ to scold him, but damn it all he could be as stubborn as she and every bit the work-until-dropping type, as well. it might be cute if it wasn't so frustrating. /At least drink your tea before it turns to ice./ Looking up from the stack she had set down as the Burmecian entered, the frown dissipated into a faint smile. "Greetings, Sir Faruja," she replied softly, politely. "I trust you are well?"
Faruja	Faruja's far more open that the good Marshal, smiling at the pair with his usual 'Priestly' warmth. It grows marginally awkward as he notes the slight staredown between the two. Oh my. Not that he can really say anything, Ainsley has swiftly become a master of staring down the young rat. Lesson here, dear knights? Womenfolk can be /scary/ to those close to them. Both receive a low bow, followed by a crossing of the rat's chest. Luckily, the rat's two large ears are hardly for show, and so Bedi's low volume is hardly a problem. They do, however, tilt slightly towards him. "Faram's blessings upon ye both, Ser Bedivere, Dame Saber. I wouldst hardly dream of missing such a hospitable offer." Faruja, does of course linger for a moment as Saber enters. She's a knight, but also, a Lady. He'll be damned if he sits before her. Protocol, blast it! To the good King of Kings, the rat gives a tired chuckle. It takes him a moment, but he finally admits, "Hale enough in body, though methinks the foul edge of exhaustion doth creep into the soul. Ivalice is a trying place." States the rat simply enough. There's little point in hiding it; the two have proven very perceptive thus far. Then, he attends to tea, letting either of the two pour with gracious thanks. He works hard, after all, at being a good guest. A glance to bedivere's book, and then SAber's pile. "Research into the ice elementals?"
Saber	It was somewhat of a Pyrrhic victory; she wasn't completely happy with it, but at least if he stopped for the moment -- if only to drink some (sadly cooled) tea -- that was the best she could hope for. It worked out to her advantage, too, that he hated waste as much as she did and still hadn't quite adapted to the idea that tea was no longer a luxury. Saber nodded as Faruja related his troubles with Ivalice, her smile slightly wistful now as she fondly recalled her dear friend the holy knight. "As I have seen," she remarked, specifically remembering her own journey to that land to help Agrias with one of her troubles. Since the Priest was standing on proper protocol, Arturia would be remiss in not acknowledging it, opting to seat herself in front of her stockpile. "Indeed...these creatures were quite different from those I am familiar with....not the elementals of our world. Likewise, they were not summoned creatures. It is most curious."
Faruja	Faruja finally relents. Siiip. "My, my, excellent." A nod to the pair. Whoever did the tea isn't half bad. The rat licks his lips, clearly pondering. How much can he really say? A small breath. "I may well need it." States the rat simply, clearly hesitating. Whatever's happened, it troubles the rat, far more so than usual. the mere thought has every fur on his body on end. A glance to Saber. He purses his lips. "...Ye hath been to Ivalice before? With whom? How much doth ye know of its situation, when ye visited?" Faruja does his best to not question too pointedly, but the rat visibly sits up. For a few moments, he's donned the mask of an Inquisitor, questioning and probing. Perhaps the two could prove more useful than he thought. A nod to the pair. "Unfortunately, 'tis not mine area of expertise, elementals and the like. I can question a Geomancer on the subject, but I am afraid Ivalice's own creatures may well be far too outside of these ones to be of any real use." He waves a hand at the books. "I /am/, however, quite adept at research." Should one be passed over, he'll be quick to start skimming.
Saber	Though not quite as astute as her aide-de-camp, Arturia was nevertheless observant. Her subtle smile essentially said she had followed that train of thought, as well. Yes, that was certainly one of the wonders of the multiverse. To be truly free, to not be forced to hide oneself behind an iron mask. Even their back-and-forth like this, their not-quite argument as true friends would engage in...for her, it was a miracle, and she imagined Bedivere had felt much the same. However, there was much work to be done. Naturally, she caught the meaningful glance and the unspoken communication, with a slight nod to indicate her agreement. If the Servant was thrown off by the Inquisitor's rapid-fire questions, she made no indication of it. "Ah...yes, I have. It was some time ago...Dame Agrias has requested my assistance with a problem in Nelveska. There had been some dispute between the Church and the Crown over a warpgate, if I recall correctly." Somehow, Arturia suspected that Merlin was only as 'lost' as he wished to be. That old geezer had a habit of popping up at the most unexpected times...no doubt he only had yet to appear before her due to finding almost endless amusement out in the multiverse somewhere. "We do, however, have a number of observations regarding their nature," she remarked out loud. "Their magical energy did not feel quite right, and in turn they seemed to be attracted to it, and seemed to be hunting it."
Faruja	Faruja's head tilts at the answers. He's silent, the rat pondering, before speaking lowly. "...And how much did Heretic Oaks speak of her conflict with the Church to ye, and the nature of it? I am afraid I must know everything, Dame Saber. 'Tis very important. And mayhaps relevent to the current situaton." A nod to bedivere. "My condolences, Ser, Dame." Faruja crosses his chest. "Hunting magic? Then, mayhaps, they hath either been addicted to magical power, or mayhaps twisted in order to require it to live. Offers the rat to the pair speculatively. "However, if 'tis the case, then it may well be exploited for the good of the villagers. Mayhaps some form of cage, or containment area might be set up, with a simple, magic-emitting device within that shall trap any of the elementals that emerge."
Saber	For her part, Arturia doubted she would ever truly be used to it; she had spent too many years as a prisoner of herself, even as she had broken out of that shell a little. But more than that, she cherished each moment of finally being able to do so; she was supposed to be impartial, but how could she have not favoured those who had believed in the chivalry she held dear, in the utopia she sought for Britain? Now that she could finally show that favour, the kngith almost felt as if she was making up for lost time. Saber suppressed a frown at the mention of Agrias as a heretic, though her marshal would catch the subtlety. She knew Faruja probably bore the holy knight no specific ill-will, but the King of Knights couldn't help but be on the defensive regarding a woman whom she regarded as a dear friend. "Not a great deal, I fear," she admitted truthfully. "Dame Agrias did not share a great many things with me. While our trust in each other was nearly absolute, she did not wish to burden me with her problems...as I did not burden her with my own." She tilted her head slightly, a gesture which would have translated into a shrug for another person. "The extent of my knowledge was simply that the Church and the Crown were embroiled in...not quite a war, but their relationship was...aggressive. I believe that Dame Agrias's loyalty to her lady was some cause for tension." Her eyes flickered to Bedivere at the condolences, picking up on that tone. She knew her knight had been wary of her mentor at best, but there was more to it than that. He had been finding his way back to Camelot to report her passing when their world Unified; he might have been thinking back to his wandering, trying to find his way out of those winter woods. or perhaps, He simply dreaded coming across the wizard again. Returning to the subject of the elementals, her eyes became slightly unfocused, her chin clasped between her index finger and thumb, as was her habit when engrossed in something. As a being of pure magic, she had been able to sense the unique flow of the magic the creatures had been bleeding into the atmosphere. "The energies had felt...dead. Elementals -- even ones such as myself -- possess the life-force of our world. But these...there was no such energy from them." Not entirely unlike the netherworldly creatures Caster -- Gilles de Rais -- had relentlessly summoned to battle her. "Their hunt might not have been their specific purpose; we may have simply been their 'prey' for a more overreaching purpose," Saber speculated. "They are not a natural part of that world, I am reasonably certain," she continued, her eyes narrowed. "There is someone controlling them....the question remains, however, where this summoner is."
Faruja	Interesting response. Faruja can't help but ponder if, perhaps, Bedivere and Merlin didn't exactly get along. Well, best not to poke the hornet's nest. A glance between the two. "Indeed, Ser Dresden is most learned, by all accounts. Meeting with him, and Lord Psyber, shall nay doubt prove enlightening." Faruja doesn't back down. By now, the enmity isn't personal, and indeed is quite tenuous. She, after all, was /right/. It stings him to know that. Faruja makes a show of considering what he's been told. On the one hand, she knows more than most. On the other, it seems the true depth of corruption has yet to be revealed to the monarch. A small breath, and he speaks. "...Interesting. Ye may well be more useful than ye realize, Dame Saber. However, I am afraid I cannot yet reveal the issue I am up against. I fear it may complicate matters. However..." He reaches into his robes, and pulls out a small package. "Something of a gift. To be opened should I...dissappear under curious circumstances. Doth not open, nor attempt to divine what is within. The results would be...less than pleasant. Should such a thing occur, please hasten its contents to Lord Psyber, and Ser Hall. Ye may then do as ye please regarding the contents." A nod. If nothing else, he can trust these two not to peek. He visibly relaxes, mask quite neatly shattering into a tired, thirsty, mentally out of it nezumi. "It seems, then, our greater challenge is the one controlling them."
Saber	This time, Saber's expression in response to Faruja was revealed with slightly widened, jade-coloured eyes. She harboured no illusions that everyone she held dear would necessarily be on the same side; she liked them both, but the Inquisitor and the Holy Knight held completely different loyalties. But that Agrias had managed to bridge that gap, to reveal to the Inquisitor those things which she had only hinted at...perhaps there was some hope, yet. Perhaps her journey would finally end, and she would return to serving the Queen to whom she had sworn her steadfast loyalty. Her expression of surprise softened, offering the Burmecian a faint smile. "I regret that I have been unable to be of more help," she confessed. "It was Dame Agrias who first found me when I alone Unified out of my world...I owe her more than I can ever hope to repay. If there is some way for me to help her homelands, I would gladly do so." And it might very well be that her usefulness is not quite at an end as the nezumi produced a small package. "I pray that I shall never have need to deliver this to them, then," she said gravely with an equally grave mien, accepting the 'gift' and storing it away on her person. And indeed, she had no intentions of doing so. "I give you my word that I shall safeguard this for as long as it is required of me." And the word of a knight in King Arthur's court was absolute. Arturia knew that Bedivere would exhaust every possible option before sending troops out to war -- one more reason she had appointed him as her marshal -- and hoped that there would be some manner of diplomatic solution to find. She sincerely hoped they could find such a solution. But until that time, they would have to be ready. "Then we should continue to search for a peaceful resolution, until such a time comes should that no longer be an option," she replied with as simple a statement as she could make, with a nod to Faruja. "Yes. If we can locate the one controlling them, perhaps this person can be reasoned or negotiated with. That is my hope." She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her loyal second, however. Him, not worry himself half to death? Oh, he would certainly have caught that involuntary, split-second incredulous expression, even as she tried in vain to quickly suppress it.
Faruja	Faruja does have a pretty good poker face at times. He blames Inquisitorial Poker Night. Bedivere's plan earns him a smile. "Good, good. Ye art a cautious man." Just the sort of person he may well need to turn to in the coming days. Faruja's worry slowly fades somewhere. The pair of knights offer him something he's been missing these past few days: Hope. Faruja returns the ghost of a smile when it comes to Agrias. Even here, he doesn't trust being too blatant. He could easily be named a Heretic for cavorting with Agrias, after all! "Ye do more than enough. And more in the future. I shall require cautious, politically-minded men and women. Ye hath mine eternal thanks." A nod. He believes her, and places a hand on a convenient Holy Book. Then, he sighs. Bedivere is right. He raises a teacup. "To friendships, new and old." He toasts. Then, he ponders. "Art either of ye familiar with dresses, and fashion?" He starts, voice lowering almost conspiratorially. He smiles. "I hath been far too apart from mine dear love, Lady Ainsley, yet I find myself at a loss for proper fashion. She enjoys flowers, and the sort. Slight of build."
Saber	Camelot, even under Arturia's reform-filled rule -- had been a place of all manner of courtly intrigues. King and knight had had to navigate those treacherous waters nearly every hour of the day, sometimes even in the middle of the various campaigns to defend their homeland. She did not so much as speak, but she nodded her approval; there was no better marshal to have at her side than the subtle, observant, and keen-minded Bedivere. She carefully observed the Inquisitor's own reticence; Agrias had similarly been reserved for much the same reasons. It had not been the King of Knights she hadn't trusted, it had been the ears of others. Even now, she was reluctant to openly speak of the knight of Ivalice openly, worried that it might place her friend in even more danger. Perhaps, she might be able to say more in a more secure setting, but for the moment, this would have to do. The responding smile to her knight was a subtle, barely noticeable one. /I'm glad to see that you are taking that to heart,/ she seemed to say with it. That smile became wider, however, at the impromptu toast. "Indeed. To friendships," glancing both to Bedivere and Faruja in turn. "May the bonds never be broken." If her friendship with the holy knight was any indication, they would not be. "I believe I have been improving in that regard...Lady Fate had been training me most excellently..." Leave it to Saber to think of "learning how to pick out pretty outfits" as "training". She certainly hadn't missed the strange look in his eyes at the mention of flowers, however. Just what was he thinking? Likewise, she didn't miss the fact that the tall knight was starting to nod off, even as she continued with Faruja. "Do you know of her tastes? What colours and scents she is fond of...?" With a soft sigh of exasperation, Saber stood. "Please pardon me for a moment..." The King of Knights disappeared for a brief moment, long enough to retrieve a fur-lined cloak of deepest blue -- a birthday gift from the holy knight herself -- and draped it over the broad shoulders of the sleeping marshal before resuming her seat with a barely audible sigh. A rather suspiciously affectionate gesture, that.
Faruja	Faruja finally just laughs, blushing a bit. "My, my, my, with so much assistance, how can I feel aught but secure?" Seems the rat isn't quite used to people being so helpful and chivalrous. It's refreshing. "Excellent. I hath nay desire to expose the Union to the problems festering in Ivalice, yet, methinks 'tis drawn near to being impossible otherwise." Toast done, he watches as poor Bedivere first droops, and then, perhaps seems asleep. Poor, poor thing. Two ears perk. "Thine dear Marshal can be bloody adorable." Whispers the rat to Saber conspiratorially. "Light clothing, in general. She is, well..." How to describe her build politely? "Light, and 'cute'." Despite the lame finish, the rat is glowing here. One might almost imagine hearts flowing off of the rat as he speaks of her. "Light blues, purple occasionally, a red every now and then...though methinks 'tis mostly to match mine own preferences when we art out in public. Frills, in particular. Anything easily moved in, and very feminine in nature." Here, he takes out a small picture of the pair: Faruja in a three-piece suit, and Ainsley in a beautiful yellow sundress with a large hat. The two are smiling like a pair of schoolchildren in love. Which, really, they're not too far removed from in age. Faruja watches the gesture. He crosses his chest, and nods to the pair. If nothing else, Faruja isn't one to spread rumors. Chivalry, indeed, is not yet dead.
Saber	With a slight smile, Saber gave one of her half-nod, half-bows. "We simply do our duty as knights," she replied with chivalric humility. "We are sworn to take up our swords and shields in defence of those in need of us, be in in battle or other ways." Still, it was very nice for chivalry to be so valued by others. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Saber considered that line of thought. She understood it quite well, the reluctance not to involve others in troubles which she had felt were her own. Namely, one King of Heroes. On the other hand, the only way to defeat him had been with a concerted Union effort. But there was also another way to approach it. "Perhaps not the Union, per se, but those who are loyal to you and other friends who are faced with this situation. Additionally, those who simply refuse to turn their backs on those in need...many of which are members of the Union." Yes, he certainly could be, couldn't he? But Arturia merely blushed lightly, coughing lightly. it seemed the girlish part of her personality had emerged, albeit briefly. "Y-yes...I suppose you are right...." Gratefully, she resumed her business once that issue was addressed. /Really, my lord...what am I to do with you?/ Not that he was awake to catch that. The tiny knight nodded, listening. "Hm...for flowers, there is one I am familiar with which has a pleasant scent...I believe it is called a 'freesia'." She tilted her head slightly as she looked at the picture. "She is quite lovely; I can see why you would be so taken with her, Sir Faruja." Sitting back, Saber resumed her chin-tapping. "Lady Fate had taken me to several different shops...I believe I could help you to choose something she would like. The important part, however, is that you be the one to choose...it must be a gift from you."
Faruja	Faruja's tail flicks, and his ears fold thoughtfully. "Heh. I hath been blessed with allies. To see such outpouring of love and care for a distant land, and for myself. Overwhelming at times." A shake of the head, and a blush hidden in a teacup. But the great knight cracks. Faruja feigns a cough, turning away. These two are /perfect/ for one another. Ears perk. "'Freesia'. Mmm." He smiles all the more, tail waggin almost like an excited puppy at the compliments. "She is the light in mine life. Without her, and the Lord, I know naught what I wouldst do." Faruja ponders, and then takes out a number. "If ye would, send me the list? Ye speak the truth; the hunt must be mine! Ahh, I cannot /wait/! To see her sitting upon a park bench, in a new dress, with that cute little look she makes whenver she thinks that..." Pause. AHEM! "Y..ye art not here to listen to me gush over mine lover." The rat is now red to the fur.
Saber	Saber's smile carried a slight hint of sorrow, remembering her ordeals before she first Unified. "I must admit, however, that it warms my heart that chivalry is not only remembered, but practised. for some time, I had lost hope, I must admit. But that was a long time ago." Good man, turning politely away. The fact that she had not so much thrown her femininity away as tried to bury it deep within herself could be something of an embarrassment to the King of Knights when that side emerged. As of late, much of the fault of that had been that of the knight sleeping in the adjacent chair. it was a good thing he slept so peacefully; that would have been a serious blow to the dignity they were still trying to piece back together. "Ah," another flower came to mind. "Irises might be lovely, as well...and the scent is much lighter." The blonde politely hid a grin behind her teacup at the -- rather adorable -- gushing. "Not at all. You love her dearly. It is hardly unpleasant to listen to, and not something to be ashamed of." Well...except when it came to /her own/ circumstances, where she was reduced to blushing, stammering, staring at the ground, flailing.... Where was she? Oh yes, a list. "Ah. Yes, I would be happy to..." though she might have been blushing anyway, rather into writing up that list. She was certainly stating hard at that paper and /not/ certain knights in the near vicinity.
Faruja	"An all too rare art, however, mayhaps 'tis up to /us/..." He makes a motion to the group at large. "To instill such values in those we fight alongside. Though, so too must we remember our allies' own unique traits." Perhaps the greatest thing about the Union is the amount of talents and viewpoints it brings together, with a minimum of infighting. Turning back once the poor knightess is somewhat composed, the rat manages to get his pride somewhat in order. Trying to look graceful, it might be marred by the constant red in his fuzzy ears. He pours Saber and himself another cup of tea, while politely nudging Bedivere's over. He'll have a fresh cup nearby, just in case he does awaken. Mayhaps the two have something in common, in their love...though it seems good King and Knight have yet to confess. The wheels in the rat's head turn. By Faram, he's not going to let two good souls go without being together. A scheme clicks. Faruja lowers his voice. "...'Tis hardly mine place to meddle..." He /is/ a politician as well. And a priest. Meddling is his calling card. "However, thine Marshal pushes himself. Mayhaps dangerousy. And I fear he shan't cease, unless the occasion calls for it." A clawed digit rises. "...There is an excellent theater in Lindblum. The goodly Knight wished to guard the temporary camps. Two Heretics, one spear as they say. When he shows fatigue and overwork, as methinks he shall, ye aught ask him to the theater as thine escort, as is proper in Lindblum. Purchase a fine dress, and see to it that this wonderful gentleman hath a half decent set of clothes. And by the Lord, have fun. The both of ye. Deal? The tickets art on me." Faram, why does meddling feel so fun, and yet, /right/.
Saber	Saber nodded with what was for her a broad smile, even if by other's standards it was fairly subdued. "Indeed...Dame Agrias and I had agreed upon as much. Before she left, she charged me with ensuring that the Union not forget what chivalry means. It is most fortunate that I now have a great deal of help in that regard." Sympathetically, the Servant does not so much as glance at the bright red ears; not too long ago, she was in a very similar predicament. "Ah, thank you," she said with a smile at the fresh cup, taking a grateful sip and noting with some amusement that, should Bedivere awaken, he wouldn't have to suffer through more cold tea. And naturally, she remained innocent of any knowledge of plotting. The knight continued to be somewhat dense in that regard. Saber didn't even so much as bother to stifle her weary sigh. "Aye, quite...as I have been informing him. But he is insistent, and I must practically issue an order for him to seek medical attention upon injury..." She might be grumbling something which vaguely sounds like "stubborn man". Mister Kettle, I have a Mister Pot on the phone and he wants to call you something. She wasn't entirely sure where the Burmecian was going with this, not at first. Theatre sounded a little luxurious, at least by the knights' shared standards. It was not as if Saber had never done anything for fun after arriving in the multiverse -- being dragged out occasionally herself -- but this was a bit on the decadent side. It was hard enough getting Arturia to agree to something like that, and only after a great deal of persuasion. But Bedivere was even worse. "No, no, I could not possibly...it sounds rather...decadent," she stammered, blushing slightly. "We are humble knights -- my status as a king notwithstanding -- and, that is..." At least she wasn't stammering as badly as she did in other circumstances, but it was still a serious hit to her poor, beleaguered dignity.
Faruja	Faruja could get used to the company of these two. It reminds him of his fellows in Mullonde...only without the potential for demons and generally trying to stab him in the back, or without the awkward position of having to watch them for signs of Heresy. At least with these two, he doesn't have to worry about being forced to execute them. It's a weight off the shoulders. For the second day in a row, Faruja finally relaxes. And so too does he chuckle. "Ahhh, how dutiful! Should he ever prove /too/ difficult, let me know. One of the good Sisters should be more than able to ensure he complies. Rare is it to see a man whom can wrest themselves from a lamia's tail, after all." Smile. Having loyal, really big monk-snake-nuns is a boon sometimes. "Or mayhaps ye aught take up healing magic. The both of ye, really. Ser Bedivere seems as though he wouldst make quite the Paladin, or Holy Knight." Really, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to get permission, either. Faruja freezes, upon hearing Lindblum's theater called decadent. His brow twitches in irritation, and he stands up straighter. Given he's so short, he may very well be staring Saber right in the eye. He knows the woman didn't mean offense. But he's not letting his Lindblum allies' honor be tarnished. "I shall hath ye know, Dame Saber..." Starts the rat, voice higher and far-too-priestly. "That were I giving ye tickets to a traveling show in Alexandria, ye wouldst be right. HOWEVER!" Finger up! His nose wiggles a bit. "That Lindlbum's theater is a time-honored tradition since the city's founding! Why, the theater itself was dedicated to the marriage of two theater lovers, one a Linder, and one a Burmecian, both famous playwrites and actors! And both as common-blooded as mineself! Theater in Lindblum is the purvue of high and lowborne alike! 'Tis the glue holding the social classes together, and true equality!" Huff. Ear wiggle. He seems to calm himself down a little. "Besides, I hath midrise seats, not box seats. While I intended to, mine budget this year hath been..." Sigh. "...Stretched." He blushes a bit, shamefully. He's had a lot on his plate, and his coffers are suffering for it. "Besides, 'tis a romantic comedy, relating the story of the two whom the theater is dedicated to. I assure ye, 'tis sandwiches and mead ye art going to find sold, rather than wine. 'Tis perfectly acceptable for a knight to attend."
Sir Bedivere	The marshal doesn't so much as move. He's not quite feighining sleep. He's still drifting comfortably in and out of sleep, perhaps unaware that Arturia had spread her prized cloak over his shoulders; perhaps thinking himself somewhere far away from the Infinite Library. He has heard a few snippets of conversation regarding flowers, though. He can remember a few names. Irises. Lily of the Valley. Although he gives no outward sign of it, the beginnings of a plan are beginning to form. Bedivere has the good grace not to chuckle when Faruja puts his king on the spot, mostly because he's only half-hearing the conversation, and perhaps certain it's nothing more than a very strange dream. Most of his dreams, since venturing into the multiverse, have been strange. Slowly, very slowly, violet eyes flicker open. He looks dully at the teacup in front of him. It's not the same one that he'd been drinking from before, because htis one looks like it's full. Also, steam wisps from the surface. Bedivere blinks, slowly, at the unfamiliar teacup. It takes him several groggy seconds to come to the realisation that this isn't the one he'd left behind. His eyes slide closed again, very slowly. Maybe it's the rat's indignant Very Loud Talking that finally brings him around. Whatever it is, his eyes slide open again, slowly, violet tracking over towards the preaching Faruja. "What my lord meant to say," Bedivere interjects softly, voice a little bit muzzy from sleep, "is that theatre is more of a luxury in our world. 'Tis often seen as a luxury in our realm; one not afforded by the commonfolk." He's sitting up as though he'd never, in fact, fallen asleep. He does glance sideways, regarding that cloak somewhat blankly for a few seconds. And though his expression never changes, there's no doubt that his face colours a bit. With such a pale complexion, it's hard to miss. He wouldn't disgrace her by casting it off, though. Instead, he leans forward slightly, cupping his hands around the teacup, taking a sip or two before he tries saying anything else. "Still, that is not the sort of thing a knight ought be seen doing, not of our realm. I must respectfully decline, Sir Senra, though it be generous of you to offer." He smiles, faintly, though the expression seems a little distant. "I fear I have other demands on my time. There are always those in need of aid." His eyes are still a little bit drooped, though, and he's obviously not quite /fully/ awake.
Saber	For her part, Saber was more than happy to no longer have need to order executions...or kill in single combat for the Holy Grail, for that matter. Not that everything in the multiverse had been perfect -- the campaign against Viridian Sunrise, especially -- but generally, Saber had been able to keep to things of clear morality. Waving her hands slightly with a chagrined expression, Saber politely refused upon the offer of really big monk-snake-nuns. "A-ah...that will not be necessary, though I do thank you for the offer. A knight does not disobey his liege..." And it was true: Bedivere never disobeyed an order from her, or even what could be interpreted as an order. The challenge was getting him to do so /when/ he needed to instead of putting it off to Do More Good. And this was going to be difficult to explain, as well. "I am a Servant...I am only capable of what magic I can now perform. Typically, it is my Master who heals me, however..." She cast a look at Bedivere. "I do not believe my marshal has such capabilities..." And even then, magic made him uncomfortable. She wouldn't do that to him. And...oh dear. There seemed to be a little bit of a culture clash here when it came to the theatre. In the Britain of Arturia and Bedivere's time, there had certainly been travelling performers to entertain the common folk, the street theatre performances open to all, as well as the pageants of the Church. But the theatre Faruja spoke of had sounded closer to the performances for the nobility and royalty, events which she had seen many times as king which she could not simply do away with lest the performers lose their patronage and hence a good portion of their livelihood. But before she had the chance to explain, her knight somehow awoke and came to her metaphorical rescue. Ever her trusty loyal marshal. "Indeed, I do apologise...I am certain that, given your passion, it is a magnificent theatre, especially of even the common folk can enjoy it." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Why not invite your lady? I am certain she would very much enjoy it, especially so to spend time with you, Sir Faruja. With your finances being what they are, some time to enjoy yourselves would do you both good." She would figure out what to do about Bedivere later, since her other great objective this evening was keeping him from working himself to death.
Faruja	Faruja nods slightly. "Mmm. They /can/ be frightening, though I suppose 'tis the point. Wonderful darlings, though. Taught me to sew mine own clothes when they art in need of mending. Though the 'eating' jokes get dull for all involved." Frown. Yup, the four had heard that far too many times. The rat licks his muzzle. "Mmm. He doth seem very..." Ignorant? Superstitious? "Disinclined to magery. A true, true shame. Ye art both talented individuals. I suppose telling him that magic in Ivalice is a gift from the good Lord wouldst do him little ease?" The thought of Bedivere /not/ being a paladin seems to wound the rat. As far as he's seen, there's few who are more worthy. Who knew that some of the most trying persons would be people he so respects, and enjoys time with. Two ears fold as the pair of knights double-team the rat's generosity into care and compassion of their own. Faruja isn't too prideful to admit it: the pair have defeated him utterly. He can't come up with a response that won't challenge their honor, and he likes the two far too much to risk that. "E...erm." Yup, utterly defeated. "Touche, dear Ser Bedivere. Touche." One can almost see his pride shattering. There will be vengeance, of the most pleasant and fun kind, in your futures! Suddenly, he perks up. "And so I shall." Goodness, Ainsley might just enjoy it. And the mead they serve is /wonderful/. "/Do/ at least see the streetside musicians, hmm? A bit of foreign culture aught do ye both well." Suggests the rat. Street performances are everywhere in Lindblum's theater distric. A thought crosses his mind. "Tell me more of Camelot, if ye both would? I am curious to hear of its cultures, and...well. The state of its Church, and magery. I am to understand 'tis a most...conflicted art?"
Sir Bedivere	The pale-haired knight seems content to fold his arms over the open tome, head tilted slightly to rest his chin in the crook of an arm. He keeps his eyes open, though, watching the others. He isn't likely to fall asleep just yet -- he's listening. Yep. He heard all of that. Allllll of it. "I should like to see these street performers. There is nothing against that," Bedivere comments, thoughtfully. "Ah, mayhap I may find some inspiration." For his piping, perhaps. A bit of foreign technique might be useful to know. Something different! When asked about Camelot, though, he seems to lose heart, somewhat. "Ah. Camelot." His eyes turn down. "It was... I do not want to sound arrogant, Sir Senra, but it was a glorious place. Truly. We sought to build a realm where the commonfolk would also have a place... where chivalry would dictate the actions of the court, not power..." He lays his head back down, looking down at the table. His voice grows distant, and gradually, his eyes slide closed again. When he speaks again, his voice is small and distant. "It was home... but this, too... is..." So much for wakefulness. Bedivere never quite finishes his sentence.
Saber	In all fairness, Arturia had seen enough strange things in her five years as a denizen of the multiverse that some well-meaning snake monks probably would not phase her terribly much. Unfortunately, her second had been present -- to her knowledge -- for only a matter of weeks. Bedivere was hardly ready for someone like that. "There is reason for that distrust," the Servant admitted, her eyebrow slightly twitching with the 'fond' memories. "My mentor was a wizard of great power, and...not the...easiest person to get along with." All right, so Merlin was the King of Trolls. Worthy or not, Merlin's countless pranks had left a bad taste in everyone's mouths. If Faruja could ever find a way for the two to have a little bit of fun and /not/ feel guilt over it, well, the King of Knights would certainly owe the Inquisitor a favour. She very much did not wish her dear knight to kill himself with exhaustion. On the other hand, seeing his expression over the idea of a date with his cherished lady was worth it, and she couldn't help but smile. "That much we shall be able to do," she admitted, smiling slightly as her marshal agreed. Music was, as she had recently discovered, one of Bedivere's weaknesses. Her smile as her knight described their country was slightly wistful before she added her own thoughts. "it was a place where I had sought to bring utopia to all. It was all too brief, but...it was my kingdom, my home." Her smile turned slightly doting, however, as she idly brushed a few strands of hair out of the now-sleeping knight's face, chuckling slightly. "And it would seem I have some time to speak of my kingdom. Very well. It began when I drew the sword Caliburn from the sacred stone..."