Oh man, I have waited for this dayfated_bladeDecember 5 2009, 06:48:25 UTC
Though she was loathed to admit, the clothes the King of Heroes had forced upon her on their 'shopping trip' were quite warm and comfortable. Thus, she was perfectly content on her walk back to the Undertaker's home with her bag held safely in her small arms.
It was a grocery bag, but she had selected 'paper' and so it was impossible for those she met on the street to see inside. In truth, it was all the requirements to make this 'hot chocolate' she had become so fond of.
Mordred was becoming increasingly frustrated at the citizenry; or rather, the lack thereof. Surely such a modern village -- by his own era's standards, anyway -- should be bustling with villagers setting about their daily chores. Where in heaven's name where they?
But the first person he finally encountered was the very last person he had ever expected to see, so far away from her throne. The very person he was running away from.
She was dressed strangely, certainly; but there was no mistaking the very image of himself. He stopped dead in his tracks, simply staring, all the emotions he felt broadcast for any and all to see. Shock, disbelief, rage, sorrow, loneliness, heartbreak, hatred...but strangely enough, a faint happiness.
"Fa--" he began hesitantly, unable to get the rest of the word out.
She stopped when she heard something. That was odd. No one was usually out on the streets of Espoir at this time, and she hadn't seen anyone her entire trip.
Curiously, the Girl-King turned to locate the source of the noise. And what her eyes beheld shocked her. She said nothing, merely looked at the boy before her. He looked just as he had all those years ago...
Trickery of vision was certainly not unheard of, the homunculus remembered. It could be nothing else, for the King rarely left Camelot, and when she did, she was always accompanied by an entourage. For her to appear like this, and so queerly dressed, it could only mean one thing. It was some manner of illusion.
"What manner of sorcery is this?" he demanded. "What shameful creature are you to so wear the image of the King? Have you no honour?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Mordred drew Clarent with inhuman speed, levelling the blade at the woman before him.
As she had become accustomed to doing since she arrived in Somarium, Ada was wandering about the streets of Espoir. By now she'd already heard that Reo arrived, and wondered if he brought anyone else with him. It's for that reason that she is looking left and right as she makes her way around, thinking that perhaps she could find someone else she recognized, or maybe just be able to offer assistance to those who were confused at their situation.
Mordred could feel his mood sour; where could all the villagers have disappeared to? At the time of day it seemed to be, they should have all been milling about the village performing the day's work. And if they had been at Mass, surely he would have found the chapel already.
A slight scowl marred his youthful face. This was quickly becoming a nuisance.
But when he at long last spotted someone, he was more than a little taken aback. Her manner of dress was strange, and she did not appear to be engaged in any of the usual activities of an average villager. Whatever the case was, surely she would know where in Britain he was.
"You there, my lady," he called out with an odd mix of impudence and politeness. "What would the name of this town be?"
It was quite easy for her to take notice of someone calling out to her, as alert as she was. So turning towards the voice, she couldn't help but tilt her head to the side. Hadn't she seen that face around Somarium before? She'd never spoken with that person, but... it was that odd feeling of recognizing someone, but not knowing for sure if it's them for lack of knowledge.
But she still attempted to be as helpful as possible, smiling brightly at the question, "This area is called Espoir." Though she could hardly leave the explanation at that. Anyone who had been in Somarium long enough would recognize the town as Espoir already. So perhaps this person was a newcomer? And if they were, she should give as much help as possible! "May I offer you assistance in any other way?"
His proud demeanour dropped instantly when he heard the name, replaced by an expression of naked bewilderment. "Espoir? Truly, no such village exists in all of Britain."
An unpleasant thought occurred to him; either the Fair Folk were enjoying a prank at his expense, or else some sorcerer had enchanted him. His frown this time was contemplative; he could feel no such workings, when usually if such a powerful sorcery was invoked, he would have noticed.
A sigh of exasperation escaped his lips. It was doubtful he would receive a straightforward answer of either was involved.
"Perhaps. The manner of this place would not happen to be a sorcery, or a village of the Fair Folk, by chance?"
Nunnally managed to find a gift when she'd been all but forced to wander around, but unfortunately, the timing had not been right to look for a cake. She wanted it to be fresh- nothing but the best for Lelouch, after all- so here she was, trying to find a bakery to acquire said cake before he realized she was missing. She was going to make it herself, but it's difficult to reach the counter top in a wheelchair and her older sisters weren't options to call on the Dreamberry anymore. And Nunnally was kind of afraid of burning the mansion down since she'd never tried to cook anything before.
Her wheelchair isn't magical, though to someone who doesn't know about electricity...it looks like she's sitting on a pink and gold moving throne. Of course, that was the point when it was designed for her, but Nunnally kind of wished her original, more low-key wheelchair was here instead. But at the moment, something that worked and got her through the snow would be appreciated regardless of how many funny looks it drew.
He couldn't help it, really. Not even the King himself possessed a throne that...ostentatious. Opulent, certainly; but that seemed to go above and beyond what was called for. But what defied reason was the fact that it moved without horse or man to pull it. As far as Mordred knew, only sorcery or fae magic could accomplish such a feat. If she was indeed fae, that would begin to explain his surroundings. Possibly.
"You there, my lady," he hailed her as politely as he could -- one should never provoke the fae -- yet he was an awkward young boy and couldn't help sounding impertinent.
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It was a grocery bag, but she had selected 'paper' and so it was impossible for those she met on the street to see inside. In truth, it was all the requirements to make this 'hot chocolate' she had become so fond of.
Reply
But the first person he finally encountered was the very last person he had ever expected to see, so far away from her throne. The very person he was running away from.
She was dressed strangely, certainly; but there was no mistaking the very image of himself. He stopped dead in his tracks, simply staring, all the emotions he felt broadcast for any and all to see. Shock, disbelief, rage, sorrow, loneliness, heartbreak, hatred...but strangely enough, a faint happiness.
"Fa--" he began hesitantly, unable to get the rest of the word out.
Reply
Curiously, the Girl-King turned to locate the source of the noise. And what her eyes beheld shocked her. She said nothing, merely looked at the boy before her. He looked just as he had all those years ago...
Just like her.
Reply
"What manner of sorcery is this?" he demanded. "What shameful creature are you to so wear the image of the King? Have you no honour?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Mordred drew Clarent with inhuman speed, levelling the blade at the woman before him.
"Answer me!"
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A slight scowl marred his youthful face. This was quickly becoming a nuisance.
But when he at long last spotted someone, he was more than a little taken aback. Her manner of dress was strange, and she did not appear to be engaged in any of the usual activities of an average villager. Whatever the case was, surely she would know where in Britain he was.
"You there, my lady," he called out with an odd mix of impudence and politeness. "What would the name of this town be?"
Reply
But she still attempted to be as helpful as possible, smiling brightly at the question, "This area is called Espoir." Though she could hardly leave the explanation at that. Anyone who had been in Somarium long enough would recognize the town as Espoir already. So perhaps this person was a newcomer? And if they were, she should give as much help as possible! "May I offer you assistance in any other way?"
Reply
An unpleasant thought occurred to him; either the Fair Folk were enjoying a prank at his expense, or else some sorcerer had enchanted him. His frown this time was contemplative; he could feel no such workings, when usually if such a powerful sorcery was invoked, he would have noticed.
A sigh of exasperation escaped his lips. It was doubtful he would receive a straightforward answer of either was involved.
"Perhaps. The manner of this place would not happen to be a sorcery, or a village of the Fair Folk, by chance?"
Reply
Her wheelchair isn't magical, though to someone who doesn't know about electricity...it looks like she's sitting on a pink and gold moving throne. Of course, that was the point when it was designed for her, but Nunnally kind of wished her original, more low-key wheelchair was here instead. But at the moment, something that worked and got her through the snow would be appreciated regardless of how many funny looks it drew.
Reply
"You there, my lady," he hailed her as politely as he could -- one should never provoke the fae -- yet he was an awkward young boy and couldn't help sounding impertinent.
"Might I be in the lands of the Fair Folk?"
Reply
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