[The bed of leaves feels so warm. There is something almost comforting sleeping like this, away from everything else, surrounded only by the soothing wildlife and scent of flowers. When was last time Richard had been able to sleep like this? Peacefully without darkness cursing him and trying to drag him down under. Even the white void seemed like a nothing but distant dream, slipping away from him. There is something vaguely familiar in this feeling. Had he been here before?
"-- That's right, Richard! Wouldn't it be just perfect to stay here and freeze to death! Or, wait. I though there was something you still needed to do." The taunting voice of the Witch rings through his mind, shaking Richard awake from his peaceful slumber. Yes.. He wasn't done yet, there is still so much he needs to do. The Light wasn't still his.
But that's when he heard a high pitched laughter coming from various directions. Then, there is a small hand carefully touching, no poking his face. First of all? Rude. Second? Yeah, that's what makes Richard eyes blink wide open and jump right up, hand automatically reaching for his blade sheathed on his hips. He swings his sword and only comes this close from cutting the curious audience who had came to marvel at these new statues. Well, right now they're all screaming The panic and confusion settles in the mismatched eyes as Richard quickly scans his surroundings. This is not London.. This is not a place he knows. Could it be that Woodvilles had managed to knock him out and drag him somewhere? No, that couldn't possibly.
Expression hardening, Richard tightens the grip on his sword and rushes forward, grabbing the person closest by the collar and harshly yanks him forward.]
You--!! Tell me what is going on?!
II - These new streets
[After his rude awakening and receiving a brief explanation about the situation Richard has fully come to accept that this place, Aldrip or whatsoever, is in fact: Hell. Simple as that. What else could it be? Everywhere he looks he can see visions from the bedtime stories: from the unnatural light that shines brighter and more white than the sun itself, people mounting these the bright feathered giant horse birds and all these... bodies on display with barely any cloth to protect their modesty. A far cry from England with its gloomy and chilly castles.
But that's all fine to him. After all, Richard had always known he would not be welcomed to the Lord's gardens when the time came to him. Which is also why the sole concept of rehabilitation</> and atonement only made him want to laugh. As if he was going to apologize and beg for forgiveness. Hah. Instead he's far more interesting to learn about his new home.
a) Stop Right There Criminal Scum
[The shipyard is an area of interest to Richard. After all, it has always been a hotspot for travelers and gossip. It is the first place where one without status or money should go when seeking for information. Given that they're capable of defending themselves, of course.
Covering himself with a dark cloak, Richard walks around the hazy street of the dock-area. He can't help but notice a surprising amount of snakes slithering in the plain-sight, unafraid of humans. Huh. Strange. Anyway, he avoids making any unnecessarily contact with others for now -- he's here just to scout, after all. But then he notices one figure accidentally bumping to another, giving them a weak sounding apology before rushing of. Richard's eyes narrow, recognizing a mugging attempt when he sees one.
So, as the thief was just about to run past him, he makes sure to put his feet in front of him, tripping the clumsy bandit down. Then, he looks at the mugged person and calls for them with a wry smile on his lips]
I believe this man has something of yours.
b) Bring Back My Girls
[One might think that someone back from the bygone-era would find the display in front of him shocking but.. Aside from the bizarre costumes, not really? Richard had known that immoral theater like these were rather popular among the common folk. Peasants did enjoy their festivals and entertainment, alright. When in Rome do as the Romans do.
So, he's standing among the crowd, hands crossed over his chest and wearing a rather serious expression compared to everyone else.]
...I fail to understand the story of this play.
III - When Everything Is Said And Done
[The sun sets even in Hell, it seems. Or Aldrip, whatever. When the darkness pulls over the city sky like a veil Richard is already half expecting to people to change form. Cast out their humanoid masks and reveal their beastly forms, starting the feast of souls.
But.. nothing happens. Everything stays the same and even stars come out with the guidance of a brilliant full moon. Some people hurry back to their homes while others linger on, seeking escape and salvation from the bottom of the bottle, from the gambling table or underneath skirt of a lady. Nothing changes, people are the same - despite the environment.
Richard had been given a room at local inn. How kind of them, truly. But as exhausted and overwhelmed Richard is feeling from the activities of the day he just can't bring himself to crawl into the cold embrace of bed. Not after having experienced the true warmth.
So, he keeps wandering around the streets. Almost like a lost ghost looking for its home, than dangerous demon trying to find souls to devour. When was the last time he had been this lonesome--
Poor little Richard! I heard that there are woods here, maybe there you'll find your home again and someone to hold you. Haha! Just like in good old days!!
The voice calls for him yet again, making Richard stop on his tracks and turn around, trying to spot the White Witch mocking him but no avail. Hell. Why is even she avoiding him?]
If you are committed to continue your slander and lies you might as well appear before me, witch!
[Richard cries out to the darkness but nothing. Only his own voice echoing from the walls of narrow alley. Suddenly it all becomes too much to bear. Joan's calumny, the strange city, the emptiness.
He wraps his arms around himself and bends down, curling up into a ball somewhere in the concrete jungle of back-alleys.]
[WILDCARD: Come with me your own adventure. Richard can be seen looking all kinds of post-medieval stuff. from light bulbs to sugary sweets.
ALSO! Richard sees and hears Ghosts. They're not real but only inside his own mind,but Richard himself believes to be haunted. So.. Yeah. Fun?]
[ Before Richard stands what can only be described as a very beautiful knight clad with a delicately ornate suit of armour head to toe. There are no shortage of rose motifs inlaid upon him. A intrigued hum falls from his lips as he turns to look at Richard. Presumably it's to listen to what he says very attentively. ]
I do not understand it either. [ Graciously, he smiles through his admission with a hand pressed flat against an armoured chest. ] Yet witnessing such ardor being put forth in their performance compels me. Do you not feel the same?
[That sure is one gaudy knight. And to be honest? The armor looks rather impractical to him, something that was more designed to be put on display and to tell of the stories of heroics rather than commit them.
Richard can't help but be reminded of his eldest brother, the beautiful King Edward who had replaced the life of sword with the life of pleasure. He could see the hedonistic King loving the sight of this knight -- hell, probably even use him as an actor in the plays about York's glorious victory in the War of Roses.
A thought that is only validated when the knight in question speaks.]
A knight who would cast away his armor in favor of a dress? [He laughs, shaking his head on the absurdity of the statement.] Nay, sir. I'm afraid I would be ill-fitted for such performance, even in as a jest.
[ From Argenti comes no protest. If anything he begins to nod along as if to demonstrate his understanding and willingness to listen while the young man speaks. ]
Then your talents must lie elsewhere! I would hope no such duty would be wrongfully thrust upon you since staying true to one's heart is something truly worth celebrating.
[ The redheaded knight wistfully casts his gaze upwards probably envisioning his allegedly dead god. As he does so he reaches out and within that hand, pinched between his fingers oh so gently, is a fresh rose. Seriously wait where did that come from? ]
It sounds like you also understand the duty of knighthood—or am I mistaken?
[Oh. He even sounds like Edward. "The beauty and elegance are the proof of the power, not the heroics!" Hadn't he said something like that to him, when declaring a beginning of the new age -- free of fighting and pain.
The expression on Richard's face stays neutral despite his distaste at the display in front of him. At least until the gaudy knight suddenly whips out a rose. Unable to contain his amusement over the absurdity of the situation he sneers, sardonic laughter escaping from his lips. He hardly doubts that this man knows the meaning behind the Red Rose -- no one is foolish enough to showcase the loyalty to Lancasters so proudly in open. Not unless they had a death wish.]
Aye, I have. My childhood was overshadowed with constant battles and bloodshed in the War of Roses. My house fought valiantly against those who would try to falsely claim the throne. [Then, he reaches out to take the rose from the man. He brings it close to smell it, enjoying from the vivid fragrance that so familiar to him. Smiling, he looks up at the man's eyes and crushes the rose with his hand.]
However, my alliances lied on the side of noble White Rose.
[ A gauntleted hand calmly reaches out to catch one of the crushed petals as it begins the descent to the ground. It's not a motion that's not done intentionally. To someone like Argenti the red rose means something entirely different; for a moment he looks both distant and far too saddened for it to be attributed to the loss of just the rose itself.
The talk of childhoods ravaged with constant bloodshed and violence gives him further pause. His eyes first widen with realization, because it's a shock that numbs the senses when such an ugly thing is something they have in common. Bouncing back from it as quick as he can manage Argenti regards this man with a fervent light in his eyes: full of determination. It's an understanding that he doesn't voice. ]
My sincerest apologies—it seems that I have caused you offense. Often times I am too clumsy with my words to properly express my intentions.
[ Breaking the eye contact first shamefully—for he has no idea how he has caused this offense—he follows it up with a deferential bow. ]
[Man's reaction was interesting. Richard wasn't sure what he had expected to receive after such provocative action. Embarrassment, respect. Maybe even fear? But definitely not the indescribable feeling of loss reflected briefly on those bright green eyes.
What an interesting fellow. Well, at least his follow up seemed to be appropriate. He suoposes that least he can do is to provide some context]
For the house of York there is no such thing as mere rose. The White rose is sign of vengeance and promise of divinity. Red rose is the blood cut from enemy.
[Sorry, he's bit of an edgelord - still unable to see value in the beauty itself. Just wait few years and he might mature..]
It sounds as if this is a simple misunderstanding. One that is rooted in our differing perspectives.
[ The brow remains pinched in abashment; not for any reason that has to do with personal pride but because he regrets putting forward an image of a knight who doesn't speak eloquently enough as to not cause offence. Squaring his shoulders again he looks to Richard with a steely determination. ]
This red rose represents my unyielding devotion to Idrila the Beauty. Perhaps this could be a philosophy that could resonate with you as well, given time and apt explanation. I am not capable of explaining the nature of that devotion so with so many words and so,
[ This time when Argenti reaches his arm outwards his spear is summoned. He spins it one-handed with well-practiced martial prowess. ]
To settle this exchanging of philosophies and lived experiences—I, Argenti, request an honorable duel. Should I be so lucky as to triumph I request that you acknowledge Idrila, The Beauty.
[ The library is one of the newer additions to the city that Miller had quickly become interested in. He was on his way there when he noticed a small crowd forming around a section of the garden—the one that looked like it was meant to house some statues or other landmarks, but instead shows off some empty displays. As he gets closer to see what the commotion is about, he's perturbed to find that the onlookers are actually taking photos of what appears to be a sleeping person.
Or is it just a lifelike display? Well, that question is answered for him soon enough. The crowd breaks into screams as the young man brandishes a sword at the audience, and Miller is hit with the realization that he may be another new person just dropped into this world.
But he isn't the person closest to the flowerbed. That honor goes to some unlucky local. He simply steps in to try to calm the situation down, coming between the two of them with an outstretched hand. ]
Hold on! Everyone take a step back and relax! You put the sword away. The rest of you leave this man in peace.
[Thank god for Miller's fast thinking, because Richard is in no mood for games or tricks. He is very serious with his threats of violence, ready to impale the poor local if they did as much as look at him funny. Hell, he won't hesitate for a second to turn this entire scene into a massacre.
So, when Miller approaches him Richard turns his angry, murderous glare at him. The tip of his blade is already coming to close to poke at the local on the cheek. But fine, the new man doesn't look threatening. So with a quiet scoff he lets go of the poor local -- who immediately takes the chance to run away from the scene along with the others. Richard lowers his blade, but doesn't put it away completely.]
What is this place? [Yeppp straight to the point.]
[ Alright, so he didn't actually sheathe the blade, but Miller will accept the release of the local as a fair compromise since Richard is giving him the opportunity to explain. After all, he has to admit that he probably wouldn't be acting with much more restraint himself were he in the same position. He accepts the newbie's threatening expression seemingly without intimidation. ]
This is Aldrip. You were summoned here by the same force that myself and many others were wrenched from our homes by. They are known as the Council, but their real identity remains unclear despite our best efforts. They have chosen you to join our theoretical prison here because they are accusing you of a crime.
[ He doesn't know where it might be, but — ]
You should have a description of what that crime is on your person somewhere.
[That.. Sure is a lot to take in. Richard stares at the older man with his eyes large as plates as he tries to process the information given to him. But the words just don't stick, leaving Richard lost in the confusion. Though, his grip on the sword tightens at mention of one particular word, making his core burst in the cold flames as the fear settles in.
Crime.
Has he truly been summoned here to answer for his actions? To have his soul weighted and sins judged.
Richard raises his sword again, this time to more defensive position.]
[ Perhaps he had misjudged what seemed like an innate response, jumping to violence out of pure necessity to defend himself, too soon. Miller didn't expect the information to sit well, necessarily, but he can see that he's also not getting through in the way he'd intended either. So much for trying to be thorough.
Still, out of the interest of remaining neutral, he doesn't make a move for his gun and instead holds his empty hands up in front of himself. ]
I couldn't tell you if they are men or gods, but the way things stand, we have little choice in the matter.
[ There is still some good news, however... ]
Nothing will happen right away. This may be "prison"... but we are free to do as we please. No one is going to try to lock you up.
[His wandering the streets of an unfamiliar place at night like this would surely have given Belias a heart attack. But it's not as if Saralegui really has anything to fear. Even if this isn't a dream somehow, his eyes are always there to fall back on in an emergency, and that knowledge emboldens him.
Dream or not, everything is strange and new. He's content to immerse himself in it, a colorful distraction from all the revelations and upset of his last few days.
It's quieter with the sun set, but that quiet makes it easier to hear the yelling that echoes down one of the back alleys. Saralegui pauses, peeking curiously into the darkness between the nearby buildings. No one is immediately visible at a glance. It does seem like the sort of place bandits would lurk and make noise in an attempt to lure marks somewhere isolated, but...
Ah, fuck it. If it's all a dream, he has nothing to fear, and if it's not, he can deal with any threats easily enough. Saralegui ducks into the alley, delving deeper and turning corners until he comes upon...not a gang of thugs ready to jump someone, but a person curled up on the ground.
He pauses a safe few feet away, eying the top of that dark head with an idle interest.]
[Never in his lifetime had Richard thought that there would come a time when he missed the presence of his own demon. The mocking laughter and lies of Joan, the horrifying curse that would always poison his mind and freeze his blood. But right now there was none of that, leaving only the coldness and emptiness of the pavement to be his companions.
Just how far must have he fallen for even the Witch to forsaken him?
So yes, he very much is embodiment of Linkin Park's Crawling while laying there, arms holding his knees close his body, trying to imitate the warmth of embrace on his own, when a sound of footsteps draw near. But it is only when a voice speaks to him he raises his head, looking up to a stranger with wide, round eyes.
The man standing in front of him was like an apparition straight from the tales of his youth. A beautiful and noble -- just like his father had been. He stays quiet for a good while before speaking out:]
[Saralegui likes the nighttime. Even in the darkness of the alleyway, the height of the buildings casting shadows to cancel out the moonlight, Saralegui can see just fine. And he knows perfectly well what he looks like and how especially striking he is in the dark, all pale and gold, even hid eyes behind the tintes glasses. Even the sheathed blade at his hip – tucked haphazardly in his belt for lack of a proper sword belt – is golden.
So he isn't really surprised or put off by the long stare and silence. Frankly, he's more than a little vain and he expects people to stare. But he also knows that it's better to pretend otherwise, so he simply meets that stare with slightly raised brows, head tilting bemusedly.]
No? And you didn't hear it?
[The mismatched eyes are interesting, but that hair is even more so. Saralegui's seen a surprising number of people around the city with such dark hair, but it still seems rare and exotic to his eyes.]
[They truly are total opposites, like the day and night. The man appearing bright like a sun, basking in the golden light. While Richard had wrapped his body in darkness, black leather covering him from head to toe. Honestly, it takes him a moment to decide whether the other is another vision or truly there.]
No. [He repeats, the brows knitting into a slight frown on his face. No. Richard hadn't heard of anything. That was the issue.
Then, he uncurls from his position and pushes himself up to his feet.] Maybe someone was met with a thief.
[Saralegui takes a step back as the man finally stands, perhaps allowing for a polite amount of personal space. Or perhaps just quietly wary of a stranger in a dark alley.]
That might be it. One shouldn't linger in a place like this, especially at this time of night.
[He says that like he himself isn't also here at this time of night. The story doesn't check out to him, and for all he knows this person could just be the bait meant to lure others in. But overt wariness isn't his style. He prefers playing innocent and being underestimated.
Half turning back the way he came, Saralegui inclines his head in the direction of the street.]
You picked an odd place to stop to rest. Or were you simply lost...?
[He's tactful. Better to dance around the subject than to directly ask what was up with the whole "curling up in an alleyway" thing.]
[He keeps eyeing the man with guarded eyes, not following him immediately.
Yeah, Saralegui doesn't exactly appear to be the most capable of defending himself despite the sword. But Richard has learned not to judge someone solely based on their appearance. After all, he knows just nonthreatening he's always appeared to people, with his slim and frail body. And yet he is the only Plantagenet left standing. It would be foolish to trust him right away, especially when taking their circumstance into consideration.
But honestly? The man has a point, it is not safe to stay and sleep here out of all places. So he might as well follow him.]
I simply might have had a little bit too much to drink, it seems. It was not in my intentions to spend the night here. [A blatant lie. But better than admitting that his own fears of loneliness had overcame him.]
[Saralegui waits until the man is walking alongside him to begin leading the way back towards the road. Like hell is he putting his back to some stranger he found in an alleyway.]
You're awfully eloquent for someone drunk enough to lay down in an alleyway.
[It's a friendly enough comment, almost teasing. More tactful than outright calling out the lie.]
[Being grabbed by a stranger provokes an instant reaction in Tasha Yar. When his hand comes towards her neck, she grabs the wrist and the elbow it's attached to, using the man's own momentum to keep him going not just forward, but around and down. She keeps her grip on the sensitive nerves in his wrist as she brings him to the ground, standing over him.]
You're not going to get answers from me or anyone else behaving like that.
[She's giving him exactly one chance to behave in a civilized fashion and rethink his approach before she grabs her phaser and stuns him.]
[There are lot of things that Richard would do and what he wouldn't. Threatening women? Yes. Sometimes it is necessarily, as he's not stupid enough to underestimate anyone based on their sex. But attack them? Unless it's a battlefield.. That's unlikely. But this is hardly your average situation either, so he does not hesitate to reach for the lady, brandishing his blade at her.
However, that's when things to south very fast for him. Before he even knows it the world spins around him and he finds himself on his back, arm stuck and wide eyes staring right up at the woman. Despite the pressure and pain on his wrist he refuses to let go of his sword, but hey at least he's no longer attacking.]
[Good, he's holding still. He's still got the sword in his hand, but he's holding still.]
I redirected your attack to lever you to the ground. You're taller than me, and that gives you stronger momentum. But all I have to do is redirect it.
[AIKIDO.]
Now, I'm going to give you a choice. I can let you up, and we can have a civilized conversation. Or you can keep trying to fight me, in which case you are going to get hurt. Which one do you want?
[Jennifer is half-way to a shout of alarm when Richard is already to the rescue. She watches, mouth open and then closing with a click of of teeth, her fingers finding purchase at the throat of her dress. For her she's dressed modestly, long sleeved dress stopped a little above her knee. The dress has scribbles on it in red crayon, some resembling clumsy rose motifs drawn in a child's hand. Her blonde hair pulled tight in an unforgiving bun, an expression on her face like she's not sure if Richard is being nice or if he's about to taunt her with it.
Should she even bother showing how much she cares about the rose brooch the man stole? Too much and Richard might want to keep it; too little and he might decide it's not worth returning either.]
Th...Thank you. [At least their accents are similar enough, probably. He's probably from England than too, like her, which does help her relax a little.] Um. My brooch.
[She looks down at the man, who, desperate to get away from this situation, flings the brooch off before attempting to scramble away. Jennifer doesn't really care about him as she scrambles for the rose brooch instead.]
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expiationlogs2024-04-14 10:44 pm
Richard Plantagenet | Requiem of the Rose King | ota
[The bed of leaves feels so warm. There is something almost comforting sleeping like this, away from everything else, surrounded only by the soothing wildlife and scent of flowers. When was last time Richard had been able to sleep like this? Peacefully without darkness cursing him and trying to drag him down under. Even the white void seemed like a nothing but distant dream, slipping away from him. There is something vaguely familiar in this feeling. Had he been here before?
"-- That's right, Richard! Wouldn't it be just perfect to stay here and freeze to death! Or, wait. I though there was something you still needed to do." The taunting voice of the Witch rings through his mind, shaking Richard awake from his peaceful slumber. Yes.. He wasn't done yet, there is still so much he needs to do. The Light wasn't still his.
But that's when he heard a high pitched laughter coming from various directions. Then, there is a small hand carefully touching, no poking his face. First of all? Rude. Second? Yeah, that's what makes Richard eyes blink wide open and jump right up, hand automatically reaching for his blade sheathed on his hips. He swings his sword and only comes this close from cutting the curious audience who had came to marvel at these new statues. Well, right now they're all screaming The panic and confusion settles in the mismatched eyes as Richard quickly scans his surroundings. This is not London.. This is not a place he knows. Could it be that Woodvilles had managed to knock him out and drag him somewhere? No, that couldn't possibly.
Expression hardening, Richard tightens the grip on his sword and rushes forward, grabbing the person closest by the collar and harshly yanks him forward.]
You--!! Tell me what is going on?!
II - These new streets
[After his rude awakening and receiving a brief explanation about the situation Richard has fully come to accept that this place, Aldrip or whatsoever, is in fact: Hell. Simple as that. What else could it be? Everywhere he looks he can see visions from the bedtime stories: from the unnatural light that shines brighter and more white than the sun itself, people mounting these the bright feathered giant horse birds and all these... bodies on display with barely any cloth to protect their modesty. A far cry from England with its gloomy and chilly castles.
But that's all fine to him. After all, Richard had always known he would not be welcomed to the Lord's gardens when the time came to him. Which is also why the sole concept of rehabilitation</> and atonement only made him want to laugh. As if he was going to apologize and beg for forgiveness. Hah. Instead he's far more interesting to learn about his new home.
a) Stop Right There Criminal Scum
[The shipyard is an area of interest to Richard. After all, it has always been a hotspot for travelers and gossip. It is the first place where one without status or money should go when seeking for information. Given that they're capable of defending themselves, of course.
Covering himself with a dark cloak, Richard walks around the hazy street of the dock-area. He can't help but notice a surprising amount of snakes slithering in the plain-sight, unafraid of humans. Huh. Strange. Anyway, he avoids making any unnecessarily contact with others for now -- he's here just to scout, after all. But then he notices one figure accidentally bumping to another, giving them a weak sounding apology before rushing of. Richard's eyes narrow, recognizing a mugging attempt when he sees one.
So, as the thief was just about to run past him, he makes sure to put his feet in front of him, tripping the clumsy bandit down. Then, he looks at the mugged person and calls for them with a wry smile on his lips]
I believe this man has something of yours.
b) Bring Back My Girls
[One might think that someone back from the bygone-era would find the display in front of him shocking but.. Aside from the bizarre costumes, not really? Richard had known that immoral theater like these were rather popular among the common folk. Peasants did enjoy their festivals and entertainment, alright. When in Rome do as the Romans do.
So, he's standing among the crowd, hands crossed over his chest and wearing a rather serious expression compared to everyone else.]
...I fail to understand the story of this play.
III - When Everything Is Said And Done
[The sun sets even in Hell, it seems. Or Aldrip, whatever. When the darkness pulls over the city sky like a veil Richard is already half expecting to people to change form. Cast out their humanoid masks and reveal their beastly forms, starting the feast of souls.
But.. nothing happens. Everything stays the same and even stars come out with the guidance of a brilliant full moon. Some people hurry back to their homes while others linger on, seeking escape and salvation from the bottom of the bottle, from the gambling table or underneath skirt of a lady. Nothing changes, people are the same - despite the environment.
Richard had been given a room at local inn. How kind of them, truly. But as exhausted and overwhelmed Richard is feeling from the activities of the day he just can't bring himself to crawl into the cold embrace of bed. Not after having experienced the true warmth.
So, he keeps wandering around the streets. Almost like a lost ghost looking for its home, than dangerous demon trying to find souls to devour. When was the last time he had been this lonesome--
Poor little Richard! I heard that there are woods here, maybe there you'll find your home again and someone to hold you. Haha! Just like in good old days!!
The voice calls for him yet again, making Richard stop on his tracks and turn around, trying to spot the White Witch mocking him but no avail. Hell. Why is even she avoiding him?]
If you are committed to continue your slander and lies you might as well appear before me, witch!
[Richard cries out to the darkness but nothing. Only his own voice echoing from the walls of narrow alley. Suddenly it all becomes too much to bear. Joan's calumny, the strange city, the emptiness.
He wraps his arms around himself and bends down, curling up into a ball somewhere in the concrete jungle of back-alleys.]
[WILDCARD: Come with me your own adventure. Richard can be seen looking all kinds of post-medieval stuff. from light bulbs to sugary sweets.
ALSO! Richard sees and hears Ghosts. They're not real but only inside his own mind,but Richard himself believes to be haunted. So.. Yeah. Fun?]
B, because I simply must
I do not understand it either. [ Graciously, he smiles through his admission with a hand pressed flat against an armoured chest. ] Yet witnessing such ardor being put forth in their performance compels me. Do you not feel the same?
i support you in this
Richard can't help but be reminded of his eldest brother, the beautiful King Edward who had replaced the life of sword with the life of pleasure. He could see the hedonistic King loving the sight of this knight -- hell, probably even use him as an actor in the plays about York's glorious victory in the War of Roses.
A thought that is only validated when the knight in question speaks.]
A knight who would cast away his armor in favor of a dress? [He laughs, shaking his head on the absurdity of the statement.] Nay, sir. I'm afraid I would be ill-fitted for such performance, even in as a jest.
no subject
Then your talents must lie elsewhere! I would hope no such duty would be wrongfully thrust upon you since staying true to one's heart is something truly worth celebrating.
[ The redheaded knight wistfully casts his gaze upwards
probably envisioning his allegedly dead god. As he does so he reaches out and within that hand, pinched between his fingers oh so gently, is a fresh rose. Seriously wait where did that come from? ]It sounds like you also understand the duty of knighthood—or am I mistaken?
no subject
The expression on Richard's face stays neutral despite his distaste at the display in front of him. At least until the gaudy knight suddenly whips out a rose. Unable to contain his amusement over the absurdity of the situation he sneers, sardonic laughter escaping from his lips. He hardly doubts that this man knows the meaning behind the Red Rose -- no one is foolish enough to showcase the loyalty to Lancasters so proudly in open. Not unless they had a death wish.]
Aye, I have. My childhood was overshadowed with constant battles and bloodshed in the War of Roses. My house fought valiantly against those who would try to falsely claim the throne. [Then, he reaches out to take the rose from the man. He brings it close to smell it, enjoying from the vivid fragrance that so familiar to him. Smiling, he looks up at the man's eyes and crushes the rose with his hand.]
However, my alliances lied on the side of noble White Rose.
no subject
The talk of childhoods ravaged with constant bloodshed and violence gives him further pause. His eyes first widen with realization, because it's a shock that numbs the senses when such an ugly thing is something they have in common. Bouncing back from it as quick as he can manage Argenti regards this man with a fervent light in his eyes: full of determination. It's an understanding that he doesn't voice. ]
My sincerest apologies—it seems that I have caused you offense. Often times I am too clumsy with my words to properly express my intentions.
[ Breaking the eye contact first shamefully—for he has no idea how he has caused this offense—he follows it up with a deferential bow. ]
Please, forgive me.
no subject
What an interesting fellow. Well, at least his follow up seemed to be appropriate. He suoposes that least he can do is to provide some context]
For the house of York there is no such thing as mere rose. The White rose is sign of vengeance and promise of divinity. Red rose is the blood cut from enemy.
[Sorry, he's bit of an edgelord - still unable to see value in the beauty itself. Just wait few years and he might mature..]
No harm was done. All is forgiven, sir.
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[ The brow remains pinched in abashment; not for any reason that has to do with personal pride but because he regrets putting forward an image of a knight who doesn't speak eloquently enough as to not cause offence. Squaring his shoulders again he looks to Richard with a steely determination. ]
This red rose represents my unyielding devotion to Idrila the Beauty. Perhaps this could be a philosophy that could resonate with you as well, given time and apt explanation. I am not capable of explaining the nature of that devotion so with so many words and so,
[ This time when Argenti reaches his arm outwards his spear is summoned. He spins it one-handed with well-practiced martial prowess. ]
To settle this exchanging of philosophies and lived experiences—I, Argenti, request an honorable duel. Should I be so lucky as to triumph I request that you acknowledge Idrila, The Beauty.
1/2
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ok let's tag this for real
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i.
Or is it just a lifelike display? Well, that question is answered for him soon enough. The crowd breaks into screams as the young man brandishes a sword at the audience, and Miller is hit with the realization that he may be another new person just dropped into this world.
But he isn't the person closest to the flowerbed. That honor goes to some unlucky local. He simply steps in to try to calm the situation down, coming between the two of them with an outstretched hand. ]
Hold on! Everyone take a step back and relax! You put the sword away. The rest of you leave this man in peace.
[ He looks at Richard with an offering. ]
I will explain everything.
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So, when Miller approaches him Richard turns his angry, murderous glare at him. The tip of his blade is already coming to close to poke at the local on the cheek. But fine, the new man doesn't look threatening. So with a quiet scoff he lets go of the poor local -- who immediately takes the chance to run away from the scene along with the others. Richard lowers his blade, but doesn't put it away completely.]
What is this place? [Yeppp straight to the point.]
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This is Aldrip. You were summoned here by the same force that myself and many others were wrenched from our homes by. They are known as the Council, but their real identity remains unclear despite our best efforts. They have chosen you to join our theoretical prison here because they are accusing you of a crime.
[ He doesn't know where it might be, but — ]
You should have a description of what that crime is on your person somewhere.
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Crime.
Has he truly been summoned here to answer for his actions? To have his soul weighted and sins judged.
Richard raises his sword again, this time to more defensive position.]
No man has a right to judge me.
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Still, out of the interest of remaining neutral, he doesn't make a move for his gun and instead holds his empty hands up in front of himself. ]
I couldn't tell you if they are men or gods, but the way things stand, we have little choice in the matter.
[ There is still some good news, however... ]
Nothing will happen right away. This may be "prison"... but we are free to do as we please. No one is going to try to lock you up.
iii
Dream or not, everything is strange and new. He's content to immerse himself in it, a colorful distraction from all the revelations and upset of his last few days.
It's quieter with the sun set, but that quiet makes it easier to hear the yelling that echoes down one of the back alleys. Saralegui pauses, peeking curiously into the darkness between the nearby buildings. No one is immediately visible at a glance. It does seem like the sort of place bandits would lurk and make noise in an attempt to lure marks somewhere isolated, but...
Ah, fuck it. If it's all a dream, he has nothing to fear, and if it's not, he can deal with any threats easily enough. Saralegui ducks into the alley, delving deeper and turning corners until he comes upon...not a gang of thugs ready to jump someone, but a person curled up on the ground.
He pauses a safe few feet away, eying the top of that dark head with an idle interest.]
Was that you yelling?
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Just how far must have he fallen for even the Witch to forsaken him?
So yes, he very much is embodiment of Linkin Park's Crawling while laying there, arms holding his knees close his body, trying to imitate the warmth of embrace on his own, when a sound of footsteps draw near. But it is only when a voice speaks to him he raises his head, looking up to a stranger with wide, round eyes.
The man standing in front of him was like an apparition straight from the tales of his youth. A beautiful and noble -- just like his father had been. He stays quiet for a good while before speaking out:]
No.
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So he isn't really surprised or put off by the long stare and silence. Frankly, he's more than a little vain and he expects people to stare. But he also knows that it's better to pretend otherwise, so he simply meets that stare with slightly raised brows, head tilting bemusedly.]
No? And you didn't hear it?
[The mismatched eyes are interesting, but that hair is even more so. Saralegui's seen a surprising number of people around the city with such dark hair, but it still seems rare and exotic to his eyes.]
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No. [He repeats, the brows knitting into a slight frown on his face. No. Richard hadn't heard of anything. That was the issue.
Then, he uncurls from his position and pushes himself up to his feet.] Maybe someone was met with a thief.
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That might be it. One shouldn't linger in a place like this, especially at this time of night.
[He says that like he himself isn't also here at this time of night. The story doesn't check out to him, and for all he knows this person could just be the bait meant to lure others in. But overt wariness isn't his style. He prefers playing innocent and being underestimated.
Half turning back the way he came, Saralegui inclines his head in the direction of the street.]
You picked an odd place to stop to rest. Or were you simply lost...?
[He's tactful. Better to dance around the subject than to directly ask what was up with the whole "curling up in an alleyway" thing.]
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Yeah, Saralegui doesn't exactly appear to be the most capable of defending himself despite the sword. But Richard has learned not to judge someone solely based on their appearance. After all, he knows just nonthreatening he's always appeared to people, with his slim and frail body. And yet he is the only Plantagenet left standing. It would be foolish to trust him right away, especially when taking their circumstance into consideration.
But honestly? The man has a point, it is not safe to stay and sleep here out of all places. So he might as well follow him.]
I simply might have had a little bit too much to drink, it seems. It was not in my intentions to spend the night here. [A blatant lie. But better than admitting that his own fears of loneliness had overcame him.]
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You're awfully eloquent for someone drunk enough to lay down in an alleyway.
[It's a friendly enough comment, almost teasing. More tactful than outright calling out the lie.]
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sorry dick
oh no not the big D
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i.. probably should cw for v. ancient colonialist mindset huh?
it's richard iii, people should know what they're getting into
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ohgosh my typos
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You're not going to get answers from me or anyone else behaving like that.
[She's giving him exactly one chance to behave in a civilized fashion and rethink his approach before she grabs her phaser and stuns him.]
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However, that's when things to south very fast for him. Before he even knows it the world spins around him and he finds himself on his back, arm stuck and wide eyes staring right up at the woman. Despite the pressure and pain on his wrist he refuses to let go of his sword, but hey at least he's no longer attacking.]
W..What did you do?
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I redirected your attack to lever you to the ground. You're taller than me, and that gives you stronger momentum. But all I have to do is redirect it.
[AIKIDO.]
Now, I'm going to give you a choice. I can let you up, and we can have a civilized conversation. Or you can keep trying to fight me, in which case you are going to get hurt. Which one do you want?
2-A
Should she even bother showing how much she cares about the rose brooch the man stole? Too much and Richard might want to keep it; too little and he might decide it's not worth returning either.]
Th...Thank you. [At least their accents are similar enough, probably. He's probably from England than too, like her, which does help her relax a little.] Um. My brooch.
[She looks down at the man, who, desperate to get away from this situation, flings the brooch off before attempting to scramble away. Jennifer doesn't really care about him as she scrambles for the rose brooch instead.]