[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.
[Ok, there is actually quite lot to unpack there. Richard isn't stranger to the concepts of different deities. But at least in good ol' England those heretics and pagans would stay hidden in the woods, practice their magic and pray to the false icons -- and if caught they'd met their fate at the flames of stake. It's something that Richard, too, feared -- if it wasn't for the glorious and noble York blood running in his veins he knows he would have met his end ages ago.
So maybe that's why it does aggravate him to see a knight spouting such nonsense?
But there was one thing that he could agree with the man. There was times when simply words would not suffice. He wasn't exactly the most well-read member of his family, always preferring to settle things by sword if possible. It had been already a few years since he lead his army to the battlefields, defending England from the Scottish invasion. But he was victorious back then and so far steel has never betrayed him.
Besides. Who is to deny a good man of his death wish?]
So, you would sacrifice your life for your belief? Very well, I, Richard Plantagenet the duke of Gloucester and rightful King of England, see your honor, sir Argenti, and will respect your will and accept your request.
[And with that he turns away to march out of the City Hall. Let's not steal the thunder from poor drag queens!]
A king? Then it truly is an honor that I shall not squander.
[ Moving to an arena where the disruptions will be minimized for others... It's a considerate notion he will have to praise the other for thinking of following their competition of might. While Richard marches out with a solemnity of a man who thinks this is a battle to the death Argenti continues to keep up the conversation as if it's friendly while he follows behind.
Eventually he breaks off to prepare for the oncoming battle. He puts a few paces between him and Richard before facing him once more. ]
Your highness, to prove my will I would put my life on the line without a moment's hesitation. So until one of us yields—do not hold back.
[ A powerful thrust upwards points the tip of his glinting spear overhead. A bright shining light exudes from the head of the ornate weapon and like a call and response a floating object the size of a man and the peculiar combination between a cross and obelisk descends to float at his side. The iconography etched into "The Shield" is not not entirely unlike a white fleur de lis set within a gilded silver and gold body. With it his defense is bolstered.
Quite courteously he allows Richard the opportunity to strike first. He stands upright and ready to riposte anything that could come his way. ]
[For his part Richard stays quiet during their way out. He's never been really much of a conversationalist, not unless he has to at least. He's always preferred action over to everything else.
Though, being addressed as 'your highness' leaves such bittersweet sting in his soul. His claim on the throne is... well, complicated one, let's say. It's something he earned through hard and ruthless work, fully embracing himself as a demon that cut down any thorns and other obstacles out of his way, no matter who they were. Without a remorse he'd send his own blood and brothers in arms to their dooms, while tricking and seducing good people away from the path of light. A hard earned victory -- yet, somehow hearing the title from lips of those who's warmth he does not know does leave him cold inside.
(in other words he misses his lover, never mind him).
It takes a moment for them to find an appropriate spot for their duel, away from prying eyes. It'd be annoying if they were to be interrupted, right? But eventually they they find their way to a small clearing near the gardens.
Despite his confidence in his abilities Richard can already tell that this is going to be a tough one. After all, the one is wearing a full body armor while he is still in his civil clothing, thick leather and belts covering him from head to toe. But every armor has its weak point. All he needs to do is find one from this one. And then there's the question how to deal with his weapon, he's not too used to fighting against spears ---
But then this motherfucker goes and summons a goddamn shields to his side. Like what the fuck, dude.
Richard's eyes widen in shock as the color drains off his face. Needless to say, he has never in his life witnessed anything like that. The grip on his sword's hilts tightens as his vision goes dark, feeling the tightness in his throat. A familiar sneering voice calls for him again "Look Richard! This place is full of likes you, isn't that nice? Maybe you won't be lonely."
The shock on his turns one of anger and determination. With one shift movement he casts his coat to the side and takes a proper stance for a fight, hissing the words out]
I do not know who or what you are, but I will cut you down. [Humans, demons. No matter. He will kill you all if he needs to. Then, without any further warning he lunges forward, fast in his feet about to aim right to the head.]
[ There's a customary nod to indicate his readiness to his opponent... But he does not anticipate the rapidly mounting vitriol he sees.
Friendships forged in the heat of battle is as strong as steel; he can only hope that this will be the result of their spar. Still, an immediate stab towards his face is not very good etiquette for a friendly duel, and so the message is received. It's quite clear that something is amiss but he knows not about what could be plaguing Richard. Yet calling a stop to this early would mean not allowing the young man to express that rage. It would not be merciful. ]
I will not heed this provocation.
[ Naturally a spear has a lot more range than a sword does. It would need to with the plethora of nightmarish monster that he has vanquished before today. With a movement that makes it look effortless Argenti curves the shaft of the spear to smash the trajectory of the sword upwards. Moving his head to the side to avoid grabbing cut he then uses a surge of strength to thrust the clashing blades to the side.
His gaze hardens on the way back down with that arm movement—quickly freeing his spear he uses the power behind it to create more distance between them using footwork that has him pivoting on one foot. Without any hesitation it morphs into a full-bodied slash towards Richard. ]
[There are great many things bothering Richard. The absurdity of this situation, this unnatural world with its inhabitants, the lack of warmth, the dark whispers of the woods that keep finding him even in here. The mystifying power that this man is wielding, making him wonder if he and his cult are part of them. The witches and demons, ones that beckon him to join in their celebration of death and prolong his suffering.
So you know! Lot of stuff. Probably nothing that modern medicine wouldn't be able to help with but times be rough for your medieval folk.
But Richard has faced such foes before and he's not afraid. He'll end any spirit or vision away with his own two hands. There is nothing 'friendly' about him ande is not a nice man. Hid own father would have witches burned on a stake, and he doesn't have any issues following his example.
His opponent might have an upperhand here because of the height and strength, as Richard's own body continues to be on the smaller side. But he's light on his feet and knows how to use it to his own advantage. The spear is a problem, yes, but Richard trusts in the years of battle experience he has to guide him through this encounter. He allows the other man to deflect his attack, following the direction he's led to. The plan is clear to him, all he needs to do is get close, past the sharp edge of the spear and the shields. Then this will be over.
He sees the attack coming, spins the sword in his hand as he plants his foot securely on the ground to brace himself against it. ]
The ones like you! [He yells over the clashing weapons, summoning his strength to direct the blow down so that he can spin his body and side step to the spear's side.] I will not allow myself to be cut down by ones like you!
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expiationlogs2024-04-14 10:44 pm
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.
no subject
[ 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
no subject
So maybe that's why it does aggravate him to see a knight spouting such nonsense?
But there was one thing that he could agree with the man. There was times when simply words would not suffice. He wasn't exactly the most well-read member of his family, always preferring to settle things by sword if possible. It had been already a few years since he lead his army to the battlefields, defending England from the Scottish invasion. But he was victorious back then and so far steel has never betrayed him.
Besides. Who is to deny a good man of his death wish?]
So, you would sacrifice your life for your belief? Very well, I, Richard Plantagenet the duke of Gloucester and rightful King of England, see your honor, sir Argenti, and will respect your will and accept your request.
[And with that he turns away to march out of the City Hall. Let's not steal the thunder from poor drag queens!]
no subject
[ Moving to an arena where the disruptions will be minimized for others... It's a considerate notion he will have to praise the other for thinking of following their competition of might. While Richard marches out with a solemnity of a man who thinks this is a battle to the death Argenti continues to keep up the conversation as if it's friendly while he follows behind.
Eventually he breaks off to prepare for the oncoming battle. He puts a few paces between him and Richard before facing him once more. ]
Your highness, to prove my will I would put my life on the line without a moment's hesitation. So until one of us yields—do not hold back.
[ A powerful thrust upwards points the tip of his glinting spear overhead. A bright shining light exudes from the head of the ornate weapon and like a call and response a floating object the size of a man and the peculiar combination between a cross and obelisk descends to float at his side. The iconography etched into "The Shield" is not not entirely unlike a white fleur de lis set within a gilded silver and gold body. With it his defense is bolstered.
Quite courteously he allows Richard the opportunity to strike first. He stands upright and ready to riposte anything that could come his way. ]
ok let's tag this for real
Though, being addressed as 'your highness' leaves such bittersweet sting in his soul. His claim on the throne is... well, complicated one, let's say. It's something he earned through hard and ruthless work, fully embracing himself as a demon that cut down any thorns and other obstacles out of his way, no matter who they were. Without a remorse he'd send his own blood and brothers in arms to their dooms, while tricking and seducing good people away from the path of light. A hard earned victory -- yet, somehow hearing the title from lips of those who's warmth he does not know does leave him cold inside.
(in other words he misses his lover, never mind him).
It takes a moment for them to find an appropriate spot for their duel, away from prying eyes. It'd be annoying if they were to be interrupted, right? But eventually they they find their way to a small clearing near the gardens.
Despite his confidence in his abilities Richard can already tell that this is going to be a tough one. After all, the one is wearing a full body armor while he is still in his civil clothing, thick leather and belts covering him from head to toe. But every armor has its weak point. All he needs to do is find one from this one. And then there's the question how to deal with his weapon, he's not too used to fighting against spears ---
But then this motherfucker goes and summons a goddamn shields to his side. Like what the fuck, dude.
Richard's eyes widen in shock as the color drains off his face. Needless to say, he has never in his life witnessed anything like that. The grip on his sword's hilts tightens as his vision goes dark, feeling the tightness in his throat. A familiar sneering voice calls for him again "Look Richard! This place is full of likes you, isn't that nice? Maybe you won't be lonely."
The shock on his turns one of anger and determination. With one shift movement he casts his coat to the side and takes a proper stance for a fight, hissing the words out]
I do not know who or what you are, but I will cut you down. [Humans, demons. No matter. He will kill you all if he needs to. Then, without any further warning he lunges forward, fast in his feet about to aim right to the head.]
no subject
Friendships forged in the heat of battle is as strong as steel; he can only hope that this will be the result of their spar. Still, an immediate stab towards his face is not very good etiquette for a friendly duel, and so the message is received. It's quite clear that something is amiss but he knows not about what could be plaguing Richard. Yet calling a stop to this early would mean not allowing the young man to express that rage. It would not be merciful. ]
I will not heed this provocation.
[ Naturally a spear has a lot more range than a sword does. It would need to with the plethora of nightmarish monster that he has vanquished before today. With a movement that makes it look effortless Argenti curves the shaft of the spear to smash the trajectory of the sword upwards. Moving his head to the side to avoid grabbing cut he then uses a surge of strength to thrust the clashing blades to the side.
His gaze hardens on the way back down with that arm movement—quickly freeing his spear he uses the power behind it to create more distance between them using footwork that has him pivoting on one foot. Without any hesitation it morphs into a full-bodied slash towards Richard. ]
Confess to what bothers you—
no subject
So you know! Lot of stuff. Probably nothing that modern medicine wouldn't be able to help with but times be rough for your medieval folk.
But Richard has faced such foes before and he's not afraid. He'll end any spirit or vision away with his own two hands. There is nothing 'friendly' about him ande is not a nice man. Hid own father would have witches burned on a stake, and he doesn't have any issues following his example.
His opponent might have an upperhand here because of the height and strength, as Richard's own body continues to be on the smaller side. But he's light on his feet and knows how to use it to his own advantage. The spear is a problem, yes, but Richard trusts in the years of battle experience he has to guide him through this encounter. He allows the other man to deflect his attack, following the direction he's led to. The plan is clear to him, all he needs to do is get close, past the sharp edge of the spear and the shields. Then this will be over.
He sees the attack coming, spins the sword in his hand as he plants his foot securely on the ground to brace himself against it. ]
The ones like you! [He yells over the clashing weapons, summoning his strength to direct the blow down so that he can spin his body and side step to the spear's side.] I will not allow myself to be cut down by ones like you!