may catch-all!

[feintofhart]

Who: Claude & Various
Where: Around Aldrip!
What: Claude and his encounters around town... again!!
Warnings: None anticipated! If you'd like to hop in on a log, however, please feel free to PM/DM me or hit me up on plurk (here!), and I'd be happy to whip up a starter for you, or you can just wildcard me in here! I've got my plotting comment here for the month if you want to take a peek -- Claude will the usual man about town, working at his apothecary, training, hunting, etc. etc., but with the twist that his sentencing honesty curse is taking hold.

Comments

[feintofhart]

And that would be a damn shame, to be tortured and sentenced to death by immolation for a witchcraft I can barely even use! If I lived in such a world, I'd simply abstain. But I'm afraid your own religious leaders would have a rough time of it here, [ he says, winking at Richard. ] There's someone able to use magic around every corner, just about. In comparison, I'm a man of science.

[ He slides the ointment across the table. ]

Distinctly non-magical science, at that. No magic here. You'll have to visit our healers brigade for that one. [ He tilts his head, curious. ] You're not a devout believer yourself, then?

[ The idea doesn't bother him either way. It's not as though he's devout. ]

[traumaticus]

I shall think on it. [ No, Richard wouldn't. He might not be able to escape the influences of magic, but he will not be allowing it to touch his body so carelessly.

With a wry smile decorating his lips Richard reaches across the table to place a stack of coins next to ointment before grabbing the medicine, finalizing the transaction between them. He pockets the small bottle on the leather pouch strapped on his belt, chuckling in amusement at the question.

If the man only knew.]

It depends on who you ask, good sir. To my subjects I'm as devout and pious as is expected of the duke and the lord protector. To my enemies I might as well be worshipping the devil himself, drinking the blood of the innocent.

[feintofhart]

My, my. For all our differences, we have so much in common!

[ Claude leans on the counter, chin cradled in his palm, mouth curved in a coquettish grin as he sweeps the coins into his own pouch behind the counter. ]

Duke von Riegan, at your service. Though around here, you can call me Claude. Everyone else does.

[ Most of his peers do at home, too. There's not a lot of standing on status around him, for better or for worse; he knows most have a difficult time accepting his social standing, considering how new he is to his role. ]

One's enemies will always exaggerate in the most outlandish ways possible. Without much credibility, but there's no better way to discredit someone than to spread rumour after rumour, Your Grace. Or shall I call you something else, now that we've all been disavowed of our titles?

[traumaticus]

[Oh? Well, wasn't this interesting turn of events. Claude is the second one he's met in this world that has claimed to be part of nobility, with the other one being the young king Saralegui. While, the revelation sure did explain some of Claude's behavior, making him seem like rather relaxed son of a noble, one that was still spared from the responsibilities of a ruler and given the privilege to enjoy life. A prodigial son, as one would say.

But the humble decor of the shop did interest Richard. How did a duke out of all people find himself from a place like this? Well, not that he had any place to judge. After all, he had taken role of a hunter for time being to support his living in this strange city.]

Richard Plantagenet. The Duke of Gloucester. [He offers, extending his hand out across the counter as formal introduction.] It does appear that God, whoever He or She might be, has decided to teach both of us a lesson in humility by bringing us here out of our realms.

[feintofhart]

The Duke of Gloucester?! [ Claude sputters, practically choking on his own words. ] What are the chances?

[ He hasn't thought about Lorenz -- no, that's a lie. He thinks about his friends back home all the time. But he certainly hasn't thought about Gloucester as a territory in quite some time, and the fact that some foreign land would share its name is one of the strangest coincidences he's ever encountered.

Once he recovers from his surprise, he reaches one hand out to shake Richard's, still looking faintly bewildered. ]

Good to meet you, Richard. Your territory just so happens to share the name of one of my territories. Count Gloucester and I work quite closely, back home.

[ That's putting it politely. They fight like mad. ]

I'd ask if you could possibly be related to them, but your hair isn't nearly so... striking.

[traumaticus]

[An amused brow quirks up in when the realization flashes on Claude's face. Oh ho? Well, this sure did just get interesting. So, there is someone out there in the other duke's world that carries Richard's name. What are the chances, indeed?

But yes, color him interested now. Richard would like find out more about this other dukedom. The one that was his in other lifetime, in a parallel world. Does it, too, stand in north and what kind of power does it hold? Do they serve the King as he does, or maybe a Queen when you take into consideration their religion.

However, just as he parts his lips Claude makes an off-hand comment about his appearance. Perfectly normal and harmless one, really. But the sharp crux of it hits Richard hard, like an arrow point digging on his flesh. His pupils widen as he stares at the man, seemingly stumped. It all happens in a blink of an eye, as if someone flipped the light switch off and on. Because all of the sudden all colors in the room turn much brighter and distorted, the straight lines curling up into a small, dizzying spirals.

But what truly held Richard's attention was the ever so familiar white figure sitting on the counter next to Claude. Joan of Arc, the damned witch.

"Tell him why is that, Richard. Tell him why you look nothing like anyone in your family. Maybe you really are changeling from this strange world! Ah.. but then again, didn't he just say you do not look like them either!"

The witch lets out her usual mocking laughter, sneering her torments at Richard.]

I-- [Richard begins, tearing his eyes away from the nightmarish vision back to Claude.] I am like no one else. Least of all those who you know, carrying my title.

[feintofhart]

Well, no. You're not. I believe that's precisely what I was pointing out. Besides, we already know we're from very different worlds, considering our differences vis a vis religion and magic and the holiness thereof, [ Claude says, all smooth voice and chipper smile, speaking as casually as though he's having a conversation with an old and trusted friend. ] There are no more similarities than the name, though you have to admit that's a funny coincidence.

[ It sounds like for the life of him that he didn't notice anything awry at all. It's a social nicety. It's a kindness, in fact; he noticed Richard's lapse in attention easily, the way he stared unblinkingly at the spot beside him, the way he'd gone rigid and uncertain, breathless and defensive.

It's not altogether unfamiliar. Claude spends much of his time with soldiers, these days. The younger soldiers around Richard's age are by and large fine, but the older ones? It's not so unusual for them to space out like that. ]

I meant no offense, of course. I myself am nothing like any Duke of Leicester there's ever been, and I can't imagine there will ever be one like me again.