[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.]
[Smart move. Especially with a murderous goblin like Richard who has absolutely no qualms about stabbing someone who he perceives even as slightest threat. But so far he doesn't make any attempts to reach for his own sword or knife.
The comment makes him scoff a sneer, lips pulling back to a flat smile.]
Looks can be deceiving, my lord. Some of us might be just too good actors to hide away the foolishness of wine.
[Whatever this place is, dream or otherwise, no one had seemed to recognize him. No one had even heard of Small Shimaron when he lowkey asked about it. Not that "my lord" would have been the proper title regardless, but it's still an interesting choice of address in this situation.]
[He offers the polite smile back at him! Wow, totally genuine here.]
I did not assume you to be part of the common folk. [Which, at least, is honest from him. Saralegui did look far more refined and noble, with his fair hair, clean skin and regal manner dress to be a peasant.]
My apologies then, sir. [Yeah. That's all you're gonna get from now on, Sara. You had your chance.
But he laughs at the statement.]
Yes. I suppose that would be quite silly, yes. After all, while being here we have no status, rank nor money to back up our name. [That would seem reasonable, wouldn't it? Why cling on titles and proper etiquette when none of them matter in a world like this, with no kings or nobility. Except that to Richard his name and the blood behind it is everything. His lifeline and shield to protect him from the rest of the world.]
However, we must not forget who we are and where we come from. Addressing one by their rightful title is only sign of respect not only to the other person, but to yourself and your family. They say that we are born into world with a purpose. For some it is to harvest the land, for some it is to follow, and for some it is to lead. It is our blood that determines our place and purpose. What makes one divine.
[Saralegui doesn't bother correcting him, but the tiniest little smirk does cross his face. He can't help it, he's a bit of an asshole and loves reveling in the sense of I know something you don't.
At that little monologue, however, his expression goes a bit thoughtful, head tilting and hair slipping over his shoulder in a fall of gold as he eyes the man.]
...I was assuming you were a demon, but I'm less sure now.
[It's conversational, without any implied insult. He's not exactly an expert on the demon race's culture, but it seems like a fair assumption that they might put less stock in blood when their country's ruler isn't picked via primogeniture and the king himself has an adopted daughter.]
[The tone, despite all of the pretenses, has been rather light and conversational so far, hasn't it. Both of them know better than to trust one another here, holding the cards closely to their chests. It resembles the polite dance that Richard was used to perform with the other nobles, smiling and deceiving.
That is at least until the other man gives out his assessment of his person. It's so... casual, uncaring of the accusation and judgement behind it. Honestly, any other person would probably just take it as poor joke. But Richard? Yeah no.
His companion might just have stabbed him in the back, because that is what it feels like when the words slip past his lips. His entire body tenses up, breath freezing up in his lungs. The barbs of the vines are coiling around his throat, digging into his muscles. Eyes wide as plate, he casts a distressed and almost fearful look. He's almost expecting the other person to fade into darkness with a set of laughter.
Honestly? There would be some comfort if this one turned out to be Joan in another form. But no such luck for poor Richard.
'Why are you so afraid? Aren't you already in light.' He could imagine Buckingham say something along those words. But his other half is not here, no one to guide him or hold him through these nightmares. He's all alone again. Just like back in the woods.]
...That is not something to jest around so lightly, sir. [He speaks eventually, voice strained and too distant for his own ears. And of course, since this is Richard he is already reaching for his sword.]
[Saralegui is certainly prone to sly jabs and double meanings, but in this case he's being pretty genuine, and so he doesn't immediately notice the distress he's caused. He carries on a few steps further before he realizes the other man has stilled, and he looks back with a confused expression.]
Are you alright...?
[Clearly not. But the exact shade of "not alright" is evading him at the moment, and he'd like tk know if there's some other lurking threat putting this man on edge or if he's just a lunatic that might snap and attack at any moment.
Gold eyes flick briefly to the hand moving towards the sword. The wariness hasn't left him.]
['Are you alright..?' Idk, fam. It's pretty loaded question. Richard never really been alright, constantly haunted by his demons and other fears lurking in the darkness, the cursed voice calling for his death. Living itself is nothing but a Hell itself. So, yes. In that regard, he's not alright.
But at the moment? Richard is not quite sure yet. The look on his eyes sharpens as he keep waiting for the blonde man to make his another move. Waiting for yet another heckle and damnation, thinking just how much has the man heard. Had Woodvilles somehow influenced the minds of this world.]
[But seeing that the next blow doesn't come, Richard forces the tension dissolve from his shoulders and sardonic smile spread back to his lips. His hand doesn't leave the handle of his sword but hey! At least this is something.]
Hah, my apologies yet again. It seems that the wine of this world really disagrees with me. [:D ?]
[Despite the sword at his hip, he practically radiates harmlessness. Even while wary, his hands never stray towards the hilt. His palms don't even have a single callus. This is not a person that typically fights anyone.
Still, he doesn't seem entirely stupid. There's a moment of clear skepticism and exasperation before he schools his expression into something more pleasant.]
Perhaps rather than a place to sleep this off, I should be finding you a healer.
[Richard is not worried about his skill in battle or ability to take care of himself. The other one might be carrying a sword, like any self-respecting noble should, but he does not miss the softness of his skin. Yet another stark contrast to himself. Despite the fairness of his complex, he's trained his body to be hard like steel, covered in cuts and scars from the battlefields. Something he really doubts that this man has ever seen.
But despite all of that confidence he'd rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed for now, until he has found his footing properly.]
Hah. Do I truly seem to be so far gone that I might need a doctor?
[It's a clumsy and bad lie, and Richard does not really expect the other one to buy it. But hey! As long as he's not truly called out on it they can use it as a crutch and move past the awkwardness of the situation and his little hiccup.]
Nay. I assure you, I am fine. The fresh night air does wonders to clear one's mind
The skepticism makes you already so much smarter than most of people Richard has to deal with in daily basis. The good men who had dulled their senses from the danger and deceive after the horrors of the war had ended.]
Believe what? That we have been spirited away from our homes to this purgatory? Absolutely. [He fully believes in the story that he had been told upon his arrival. About prison, the council and atonement. Well, it is too bad that Richard has no intentions of following the rules laid in front of him.]
[Richard cocks up a curious brow at that question. 'It is about the same as yours. I'm certain', is what he'd like to say. But then again, there are high chances that the golden man was a foreigner -- perhaps coming from the Holy Roman Empire? It would explain the attire, at least.]
I hail from the England. My territory lies in the northern part of the country. The climate is harsh and cold, and has trained the people to be resilient when facing hardships. The London, our capital, however is different. There are lush green woods and beautiful nature. The people are more merry, enjoying from the riches brought all around the world.
[Saralegui's head tilts slightly towards Richard as he talks, listening even as he keeps his eyes forward and attention sharp in case of other dangers lurking in these dark back-alleys.]
I see. I've never heard of England, but I suppose that's to be expected of another world.
[Richard may be thinking a little too small with this whole "other worlds" business...]
My country is called Small Shimaron. Despite the name, it's the second-largest kingdom in the human territories. It's not quite as cold as Large Shimaron, so I can hardly complain about coming in second.
[He sounds lighthearted enough about it, and not at all like he's long been subtly working towards taking over Large Shimaron.]
i.. probably should cw for v. ancient colonialist mindset huh?
[Richard's brain is, unfortunately, very small when it comes to these thing. The idea of another world, one that is not neither hell or heaven just doesn't fit to it! So, when Sara admits not knowing about England Richard just corks up a questioning eyebrow because wow?? How do you not know the glorious superpower that's England? The shining Kingdom on the world map.
The name 'Shimaron' makes him think of the unknown and dangerous territories of the east -- the places beyond the map of the Ottomans. Honestly? That would explain many things. All except for the mention of "the human territories"? Just what sort of barbarians they were facing.]
I, too, have never heard of the name of your home. It seems like no one can escape the divine punishment.
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expiationlogs2024-04-14 10:44 pm
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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The comment makes him scoff a sneer, lips pulling back to a flat smile.]
Looks can be deceiving, my lord. Some of us might be just too good actors to hide away the foolishness of wine.
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"My lord"?
[Whatever this place is, dream or otherwise, no one had seemed to recognize him. No one had even heard of Small Shimaron when he lowkey asked about it. Not that "my lord" would have been the proper title regardless, but it's still an interesting choice of address in this situation.]
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[He offers the polite smile back at him! Wow, totally genuine here.]
I did not assume you to be part of the common folk. [Which, at least, is honest from him. Saralegui did look far more refined and noble, with his fair hair, clean skin and regal manner dress to be a peasant.]
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[So polite! What a genuine and pleasant interaction all around!]
After all, it seems silly to fuss over such niceties in a place like this, whatever it is.
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But he laughs at the statement.]
Yes. I suppose that would be quite silly, yes. After all, while being here we have no status, rank nor money to back up our name. [That would seem reasonable, wouldn't it? Why cling on titles and proper etiquette when none of them matter in a world like this, with no kings or nobility. Except that to Richard his name and the blood behind it is everything. His lifeline and shield to protect him from the rest of the world.]
However, we must not forget who we are and where we come from. Addressing one by their rightful title is only sign of respect not only to the other person, but to yourself and your family. They say that we are born into world with a purpose. For some it is to harvest the land, for some it is to follow, and for some it is to lead. It is our blood that determines our place and purpose. What makes one divine.
sorry dick
At that little monologue, however, his expression goes a bit thoughtful, head tilting and hair slipping over his shoulder in a fall of gold as he eyes the man.]
...I was assuming you were a demon, but I'm less sure now.
[It's conversational, without any implied insult. He's not exactly an expert on the demon race's culture, but it seems like a fair assumption that they might put less stock in blood when their country's ruler isn't picked via primogeniture and the king himself has an adopted daughter.]
oh no not the big D
That is at least until the other man gives out his assessment of his person. It's so... casual, uncaring of the accusation and judgement behind it. Honestly, any other person would probably just take it as poor joke. But Richard? Yeah no.
His companion might just have stabbed him in the back, because that is what it feels like when the words slip past his lips. His entire body tenses up, breath freezing up in his lungs. The barbs of the vines are coiling around his throat, digging into his muscles. Eyes wide as plate, he casts a distressed and almost fearful look. He's almost expecting the other person to fade into darkness with a set of laughter.
Honestly? There would be some comfort if this one turned out to be Joan in another form. But no such luck for poor Richard.
'Why are you so afraid? Aren't you already in light.' He could imagine Buckingham say something along those words. But his other half is not here, no one to guide him or hold him through these nightmares. He's all alone again. Just like back in the woods.]
...That is not something to jest around so lightly, sir. [He speaks eventually, voice strained and too distant for his own ears. And of course, since this is Richard he is already reaching for his sword.]
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Are you alright...?
[Clearly not. But the exact shade of "not alright" is evading him at the moment, and he'd like tk know if there's some other lurking threat putting this man on edge or if he's just a lunatic that might snap and attack at any moment.
Gold eyes flick briefly to the hand moving towards the sword. The wariness hasn't left him.]
1/2
But at the moment? Richard is not quite sure yet. The look on his eyes sharpens as he keep waiting for the blonde man to make his another move. Waiting for yet another heckle and damnation, thinking just how much has the man heard. Had Woodvilles somehow influenced the minds of this world.]
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Hah, my apologies yet again. It seems that the wine of this world really disagrees with me. [:D ?]
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Still, he doesn't seem entirely stupid. There's a moment of clear skepticism and exasperation before he schools his expression into something more pleasant.]
Perhaps rather than a place to sleep this off, I should be finding you a healer.
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But despite all of that confidence he'd rather avoid unnecessary bloodshed for now, until he has found his footing properly.]
Hah. Do I truly seem to be so far gone that I might need a doctor?
[It's a clumsy and bad lie, and Richard does not really expect the other one to buy it. But hey! As long as he's not truly called out on it they can use it as a crutch and move past the awkwardness of the situation and his little hiccup.]
Nay. I assure you, I am fine. The fresh night air does wonders to clear one's mind
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Saralegui definitely doesn't believe it, and the long stare he gives Richard seems to scream that fact. But generously, he doesn't call it out.]
I suppose. You said "this world". You believe all that, then?
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The skepticism makes you already so much smarter than most of people Richard has to deal with in daily basis. The good men who had dulled their senses from the danger and deceive after the horrors of the war had ended.]
Believe what? That we have been spirited away from our homes to this purgatory? Absolutely. [He fully believes in the story that he had been told upon his arrival. About prison, the council and atonement. Well, it is too bad that Richard has no intentions of following the rules laid in front of him.]
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Saralegui gives a little thoughtful hum of acknowledgement, facing forward again.]
As impossible as it sounds, I'll admit it would explain a great many things.
[Like the strange buildings, or all the people with black that that apparently aren't demons.]
So if you're from another world, then tell me about it.
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I hail from the England. My territory lies in the northern part of the country. The climate is harsh and cold, and has trained the people to be resilient when facing hardships. The London, our capital, however is different. There are lush green woods and beautiful nature. The people are more merry, enjoying from the riches brought all around the world.
What of your own home?
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I see. I've never heard of England, but I suppose that's to be expected of another world.
[Richard may be thinking a little too small with this whole "other worlds" business...]
My country is called Small Shimaron. Despite the name, it's the second-largest kingdom in the human territories. It's not quite as cold as Large Shimaron, so I can hardly complain about coming in second.
[He sounds lighthearted enough about it, and not at all like he's long been subtly working towards taking over Large Shimaron.]
i.. probably should cw for v. ancient colonialist mindset huh?
The name 'Shimaron' makes him think of the unknown and dangerous territories of the east -- the places beyond the map of the Ottomans. Honestly? That would explain many things. All except for the mention of "the human territories"? Just what sort of barbarians they were facing.]
I, too, have never heard of the name of your home. It seems like no one can escape the divine punishment.
it's richard iii, people should know what they're getting into
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ohgosh my typos