003; video // chanterai por mon corage
[Balian for once is... actually looking happy. An Angel of God had healed him, more than just healed his battle injuries it seemed, some of his older aches too.
And what's more... his smithery had turned up. So the video comes on to his slightly more pleased face than usual, and it's a simple building, built so much of it himself though he had inherited it from his father. Open, with no real doors, minus a smaller back room, where he plans on living, now that it's back. He runs a hand over the stones of fireplace. He's already been busy, stock piled wood. He knows there might be better modern ways of doing this but...
Above his head is a strong beam with words carved into it.]
I suppose this mean I have work to do again.
[He's pleased, more than pleased. This idleness... does not suit him. But it's just as he left it, before he burned it along with his priest of a brother. Half finished work kept neatly as he ever did. He picks up a set of silver cups he'd been working on, they've been finely beaten out, and it is good work. He knows his trade.]
... If you need anything, weapons, plates, cups... I am able to make them with relative ease. I did serve as a Engineer under one lord in battle. [but that is battle and blood and he has no mine for that, not with Christmas drawing near.] Perhaps I will make something to suit the festivale here, it is a pleasant change compared to Jerusalem and the Holy Land... [he's a good Christian, always would be, but he knew tolerance, and if this was what people celebrated here, than he would respect that, the same as he respected the Saracen customs. The prayers, in the end, are the same.]
Winter brings with it a cleaness, if only for awhile. [with that, he flicks off his cloak against the winter cold, going about building his fire to start work again.]
And what's more... his smithery had turned up. So the video comes on to his slightly more pleased face than usual, and it's a simple building, built so much of it himself though he had inherited it from his father. Open, with no real doors, minus a smaller back room, where he plans on living, now that it's back. He runs a hand over the stones of fireplace. He's already been busy, stock piled wood. He knows there might be better modern ways of doing this but...
Above his head is a strong beam with words carved into it.]
I suppose this mean I have work to do again.
[He's pleased, more than pleased. This idleness... does not suit him. But it's just as he left it, before he burned it along with his priest of a brother. Half finished work kept neatly as he ever did. He picks up a set of silver cups he'd been working on, they've been finely beaten out, and it is good work. He knows his trade.]
... If you need anything, weapons, plates, cups... I am able to make them with relative ease. I did serve as a Engineer under one lord in battle. [but that is battle and blood and he has no mine for that, not with Christmas drawing near.] Perhaps I will make something to suit the festivale here, it is a pleasant change compared to Jerusalem and the Holy Land... [he's a good Christian, always would be, but he knew tolerance, and if this was what people celebrated here, than he would respect that, the same as he respected the Saracen customs. The prayers, in the end, are the same.]
Winter brings with it a cleaness, if only for awhile. [with that, he flicks off his cloak against the winter cold, going about building his fire to start work again.]