Damycles
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AnarionTristan silently slides the five silver pieces onto the bartop. He's not much of a gambler, usually, but it's very important to support your friends in all things. Even if you're not friends yet, it's never too early to start.
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What else can be done, at a moment like this?
Tristan sips his beer and watches, taking great pains to make sure none of what's about to happen spills the other mug.
A talk with nature is still on the cards. But nature isn't going anywhere. A knight like Robena getting hurled across the room is a rarer thing indeed, and she might appreciate the drink more...
Interrupting now, though, feels quite rude indeed. It looks like nobody's getting hurt that doesn't want to.
Tristan sips his beer and watches, taking great pains to make sure none of what's about to happen spills the other mug.
A talk with nature is still on the cards. But nature isn't going anywhere. A knight like Robena getting hurled across the room is a rarer thing indeed, and she might appreciate the drink more...
Interrupting now, though, feels quite rude indeed. It looks like nobody's getting hurt that doesn't want to.
Lucien's shirt is buttoned, ironed. His pants are neatly creased and mended. His bloody useless pistol has at least been loaded with dry powder, now. Composed. Sensible. He looks across the vista seriously.
"I wonder if we can find fried pickles, here." He smiles wistfully at a food tent which appears to be deep-frying an alligator of some sort in a bathtub of bubbling oil. The alligator has been run the whole way through with a cast iron skewer. Must be a baby one, it's only the size of a surface gator. And is that - yes. The smell of beer batter is unmistakable. Carnival veal schnitzel! "It's been years since I've had a good fried pickle."
"I wonder if we can find fried pickles, here." He smiles wistfully at a food tent which appears to be deep-frying an alligator of some sort in a bathtub of bubbling oil. The alligator has been run the whole way through with a cast iron skewer. Must be a baby one, it's only the size of a surface gator. And is that - yes. The smell of beer batter is unmistakable. Carnival veal schnitzel! "It's been years since I've had a good fried pickle."
These knights are not his friends. Certainly, Tristan respects them - their service to their lord is unimpeachable - but he respects them as colleagues in competition. They are peers, but he doesn't even trust them enough to tell them that they are peers, because he doesn't feel safe to be honest with them.
And, as Nin's made rather clear to him, and Mort has implied, he's right to feel unsafe in honesty.
He's always retreated to nature, when he's had a crisis of authenticity. It's usually been moments when he's caught himself trying to be someone he isn't. Trying to be interesting to a crush. Trying to downplay his needs and limitations for a mentor. After the performance, he can sometimes feel himself become what he's pretended to be. Not everything that is picked up can be put back down.
It was fun to play pretend for Mort, with Mort, at Mort. And he's going to need to pretend again, and soon. Maybe for a while. That's fine. It's just important to get everything out, as difficult as getting all the sand out of a shoe.
He needs to be alone for a while, to separate the threads of performance from himself.
Being alone, in nature, is where he finds dishonesty to himself impossible. And maybe, after everything that's happened today, the world still has things to tell him.
If he can, he'll take two cups of beer from the tavern on the way out, and pay for it how he can.
And, as Nin's made rather clear to him, and Mort has implied, he's right to feel unsafe in honesty.
He's always retreated to nature, when he's had a crisis of authenticity. It's usually been moments when he's caught himself trying to be someone he isn't. Trying to be interesting to a crush. Trying to downplay his needs and limitations for a mentor. After the performance, he can sometimes feel himself become what he's pretended to be. Not everything that is picked up can be put back down.
It was fun to play pretend for Mort, with Mort, at Mort. And he's going to need to pretend again, and soon. Maybe for a while. That's fine. It's just important to get everything out, as difficult as getting all the sand out of a shoe.
He needs to be alone for a while, to separate the threads of performance from himself.
Being alone, in nature, is where he finds dishonesty to himself impossible. And maybe, after everything that's happened today, the world still has things to tell him.
If he can, he'll take two cups of beer from the tavern on the way out, and pay for it how he can.
"I can see just how important it is, for us to be here, helping this hunt now, Sir Knight." Tristan says gravely, glancing at Nin only once, only briefly. "It sounds like Pellinore wants to make sure it's her that slays the beast, after all. If you were to fail today, after we managed to catch it ourselves by sheer fortune... it would make her very angry. Very angry indeed." He looks at Mort very concerned, now. Fearful for him. "I did not mean to put you in this position, Sir. Where the King would see huntsmen, such as ourselves, accomplish more than her knights... What might she do?"
He's not lying. Not really. But Mort did say something about an anger problem, and he's very curious how Mort reacts to this idea being put in his head.
If the King is kind, should have nothing to fear from being outshone by luck and circumstance. If.
[Size Someone Up: 5, 6 +2 = 13
How might I get you to speak your concerns about your king?
Where are you vulnerable to me?
How prone to anger is your king, and what does it look like?]
He's not lying. Not really. But Mort did say something about an anger problem, and he's very curious how Mort reacts to this idea being put in his head.
If the King is kind, should have nothing to fear from being outshone by luck and circumstance. If.
[Size Someone Up: 5, 6 +2 = 13
How might I get you to speak your concerns about your king?
Where are you vulnerable to me?
How prone to anger is your king, and what does it look like?]
The Fool - one does not doff their armor until the hurley burley's done, and the battle's fought and won - ambles amiably up to Coleman, claps his shoulder. This close to the fires, and after so much dancing, the Fool is drenched in sweat. Their shirt hangs loose around the edges, but clings tight and translucent to what flesh it touches. For now, they are more themselves than ever. A version of themselves that isn't bothered by trains, anyway.
"It's a good thing you were here, you know." The Fool gestures grandly at the chaos. "So you know, more than anyone, that there was nothing more you could do. That you did everything you could. I don't know what you did - but I know you, and I don't doubt it. You shouldn't."
The Fool taps their pockets and - yes, they do still have those foraged mushrooms, of the station. Maybe there's something useful in them. Maybe they'll just be sentimental. Something to keep in mind, for when Coleman isn't so very busy.
Another to keep in mind; "Caranadir" may no longer be armor worth wearing, with his child dying as it is. Glide over to Jackdaw, to see which face she's wearing, shall we?
"It's a good thing you were here, you know." The Fool gestures grandly at the chaos. "So you know, more than anyone, that there was nothing more you could do. That you did everything you could. I don't know what you did - but I know you, and I don't doubt it. You shouldn't."
The Fool taps their pockets and - yes, they do still have those foraged mushrooms, of the station. Maybe there's something useful in them. Maybe they'll just be sentimental. Something to keep in mind, for when Coleman isn't so very busy.
Another to keep in mind; "Caranadir" may no longer be armor worth wearing, with his child dying as it is. Glide over to Jackdaw, to see which face she's wearing, shall we?
Tristan waits for Mort's answer. These are very good questions, and he's excited to hear the answers.
If he were to add anything - oh, go on then - "Does the King have any heirs? I've talked to a lot of bards." He really has. Tristan listens to anyone that will tell him things, and bards will keep telling you things as long as you can stand to listen. He might be a little more devoted to folk heroes than is strictly healthy, as a result. "They would say - well, if it's blood, then Pellinore would be felled today, and it would be something for her heir to avenge. Or a black sheep of the family to prove their lineage, and reclaim their birthright. That sort of thing makes for the better story." He says, knowingly.
He has heard stories about the Oracles, of prophecies that baited the listener into the action that fulfilled it. "If you cross the river, a great empire will be destroyed", that sort of thing.
He trusts Merlin to be on their side. But if King Pellinore isn't... it would make sense to give a prophecy with enough slack to tie a noose from, right? One that might exploit a bold, brash temperament, to bait them into folly. That sounds like something Merlin would do! Which could also mean Nin is right too!
Tristan feels very clever for having worked this out.
If he were to add anything - oh, go on then - "Does the King have any heirs? I've talked to a lot of bards." He really has. Tristan listens to anyone that will tell him things, and bards will keep telling you things as long as you can stand to listen. He might be a little more devoted to folk heroes than is strictly healthy, as a result. "They would say - well, if it's blood, then Pellinore would be felled today, and it would be something for her heir to avenge. Or a black sheep of the family to prove their lineage, and reclaim their birthright. That sort of thing makes for the better story." He says, knowingly.
He has heard stories about the Oracles, of prophecies that baited the listener into the action that fulfilled it. "If you cross the river, a great empire will be destroyed", that sort of thing.
He trusts Merlin to be on their side. But if King Pellinore isn't... it would make sense to give a prophecy with enough slack to tie a noose from, right? One that might exploit a bold, brash temperament, to bait them into folly. That sounds like something Merlin would do! Which could also mean Nin is right too!
Tristan feels very clever for having worked this out.
"Merlin says so?" Tristan looks askance at Nin. "Then it must be." This is a conviction, now.
'There is a whiff of rot to all this, but surely Merlin is with us?' The alternative is too heartbreaking to think about.
'There is a whiff of rot to all this, but surely Merlin is with us?' The alternative is too heartbreaking to think about.
Look, the Fool's not here to not pull levers. Here's one - a layer of dust thick as peanut butter on a sandwich, over what may have been brass. Hopefully brass, the Fool didn't think to bring oil. Are these cobwebs? Have any spiders been here? They must have - what else would be there to bring misfortune to the flies?
Clank.
Let's see how all the king's forces and all the king's men hold this one together.
Clank.
Let's see how all the king's forces and all the king's men hold this one together.
Nin presents a knot of very compelling logic, but Occam's razor cuts it thusly:
The questing beast is a big, scary monster, and Pellinor was nice to me. I am myself a hunter, and I am obviously not a villain for it.
Her point about the badger - wasn't that his thinking? Did the badger scare him so much to change his mind on it? When did that happen? When he sighted it with his arrow? He shifts his weight as he rides.
"Maybe," Tristan says, unconvinced. "I could see it being true. But even if it is true, the best we can do is join her hunt in good faith. While we do, the badger is our true target, and we are acting within our own rights to hunt it. I don't want the sword we choose to fall on to end up in anyone else's back..."
The questing beast is a big, scary monster, and Pellinor was nice to me. I am myself a hunter, and I am obviously not a villain for it.
Her point about the badger - wasn't that his thinking? Did the badger scare him so much to change his mind on it? When did that happen? When he sighted it with his arrow? He shifts his weight as he rides.
"Maybe," Tristan says, unconvinced. "I could see it being true. But even if it is true, the best we can do is join her hunt in good faith. While we do, the badger is our true target, and we are acting within our own rights to hunt it. I don't want the sword we choose to fall on to end up in anyone else's back..."
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