calesvola-blog

[calesvola-blog]

mibeltane:

     The warm weight took him by surprise, and he froze, all at once unsure of what to say. 

     I’m sorry? Forgive me. I’ll do better next time, just trust me –

     But they all died raw in his throat, and he suffered all the more from her unabashed gentle touch and even kinder words. Robin Hood was an expert at sabotage – not at accepting another’s genuine kindness. None of that was likely to change. She would always be an honest trainee, and he was always a man who just wasn’t good enough. 

     “Okay, okay.” Robin groaned lightly, one hand patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. He wasn’t too keen on spoiling the girl’s mood or stomping on her pride, no matter how hard he’d tried to avoid her simple act of charity. It was always hard to resist these pushy do-gooders with stars in their eyes.

     “As if there’s a soul out there able to say no to a face like that… – kind of unfair, don’t you think? This is the worst… – ahhh, but, hey. Enough of the mushy stuff. I get what you’re getting at, okay? I won’t say it again.“ Even if she was wrong, he’d stay his tongue for now. He’d pretend to have a little more pride than usual. He reached up to pinch lightly at those puffed-up chipmunk cheeks. “’Care’ for me, huh… you’re making me sound like a chick who hasn’t left the nest. Well, look. You two make up, and… I’ll agree to being… spoiled for a day? That’s what you want, right?” 

'I'll agree to being spoiled for a day' he says, and Lily's face breaks into a beaming smile, eyes crinkling as she grins up at her favorite woodsman. She clings tighter to his arm, tipping her face up towards him. "It's a promise, then!" she declares, in her most kingly voice. "I'll write Richie a letter and get tickets, and we'll all go to the zoo and see dragons and eat funnel cakes and ice cream and have fun and then have dinner! Just the three of us!"

There are almost stars in her eyes as she describes to Robin, in great detail, the great mounds of food she'll eat for dinner (spaghetti with fat, round meatballs, a huge burger with plenty of ketchup and fries, a parfait loaded with whipped cream and fruit), which seems to be the most important part of the day for her, outside of seeing dragons and her insistence that both Robin AND Richard be there. She ends her tirade of food names with a softer, "And you'll eat plenty, too," admonishment directed towards Robin. "A knight should be stronger looking, shouldn't he?"

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berserkerofgold:

     He was naturally elated. Speaking with kids– even Heroic Spirits who were, for whatever reason, currently kids– was something the man loved. Kids were precious things, after all.

Even better was to see them happy, like Lily was just by talking to him.

“Lily, huh. Hmm… yeah, that’s a pretty name, heh heh,” Kintoki nods– rubbing his chin, pausing to think for a moment. “Yeah, it suits you. I like it! It’s pretty golden. My name, though? Sakata Kintoki! If you want, call me Golden, Lily.”

“And don’t sweat it! I like good kids like you– but you don’t gotta be so formal around me! Ok?” It made him feel like he was an actual teacher, which he wouldn’t have ever imagined being. He’d be awful at teaching anything else, the man figured. “Now then!”

     He sets the food in his lap besides himself and stands, crossing his arms. 

“If I’m gonna teach you, I gotta see what you’re capable of, first! What kinda attacks you got, y’know? So!” He pounds his chest. “Come at me!”

Lily is pumped. She puts her hands on her hips and beams at Kintoki, letting out an excited, "Yessir! I mean, yes, Golden!"

Her hands go to draw her little wooden sword and she sprints forward, holding her sword at the ready. She keeps her stance light, ready to switch her balance at a moment's notice. As small as she is, her greatest asset is her speed and agility rather than her strength. She doesn't think she'll do Kintoki much harm by attacking him--and besides, he had asked her to show him what she could do. She lunges forward, front leg extending, and flicks her wooden blade towards the man, the majority of her strength behind the blow.

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chivalour:

       he wouldn’t have expected such thing in a million years, and though under a different occasion he would have been disgustingly happy ( he is happy, though, of course! but it’s different– ), all he feels is warmth and relief. This Arthur is indeed too young, too naive and too pure, but he loves her, have and will always love her. He loves everything her existence represents, loves how she has always inspired him, has always given him reason to accept his bloodline and given him even more reason to accept staying with Britain, truly.

       Richard holds her back like he would a younger sibling. He would never have done such a thing with Geoffrey or John, but he is still an older brother, and still knows, to some extent, how to hold another and comfort them. When she parts, the king can’t help but smile at how unsightly her face would be for others – but for him, no matter how many tears and snot covered her face, Arthur would still be the one person he loves the most.

       His thumb is careful and gentle against her skin, wiping away tears that had left and tears that have to come. ❝ We are anything you wish us to be. ❞ It sounds partially like a joke, and if he can make Arthur smile with it, then Richard will be more than pleased – but it’s the truth, too. He would do anything for Arthur, anything she requests of him. His hand cups her face gently, and it must be the first time Richard gets to look into her soft green eyes so intensely. He truly loves her, whole and completely. Richard closes his own scarlet eyes and presses his forehead against hers, and it’s hard to stop smiling when Arthur has done nothing but make him so blessed. Maybe God has forgiven him for his sins at that very moment. ❝ Never to do outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asketh mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship of King Arthur for evermore; and always do to ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen succour, upon pain of death. Also, that no man takes no battles in a wrongful quarrel for no law, nor for world’s goods. – My King. I have been your knight since the moment I was born. I swear, on the name of the House Plantagenet, on the lands I inherited, on my pride as a knight and a King, to protect and look out for you, for all of eternity. ❞

Happiness suffuses Lily's body as he promises himself to her as a knight, and she scrubs her tears and snot away from her face with the bodice of her dress and her little fists. She struggles to her feet, loathe to leave the warm hug of her first night, and then pulls her wooden sword out of her swordbelt with a great flourish.

Knighting someone is not something that she has ever done, but it is something she has seen done, something she has watched her foster father do and learned from Merlin in his teachings in her dreams. She touches the flat side of her wooden sword to Richard's right cheek and then lifts it over his head and touches it to the left cheek as well, and then smiles at him and wipes her nose again. "Thus I dub you, Richard Plantagenet, the first of my knights," she says, voice wavering. "I trust you with my honor and with my life and hold you to all of my laws and to your word. You may arise, Sir Richard."

She re-sheathes her sword and waits for her friend to stand, eager to run back into his arms and give him another hug.

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pyrrhiclegend:

    “The grail works in mysterious ways,” he commented, shrugging. She wouldn’t be the first nor the last to be faced with Servants facing those they knew in life summoned in servitude to the grail’s wishes. Achilles experienced this firsthand, doing battle with his mentor Chiron in the Great Holy Grail war he fought in.

    She seemed awfully naive for a Servant, he thought to himself as he propped his elbow on the table, cheek resting against the palm of his hand. The reason would make itself plain to him in due time, but he couldn’t help but be reminded of himself when he first started out. He too, was wide-eyed, eager to prove himself to the people and the gods that entrusted him with a hero’s destiny. It was nostalgic, almost, conversing with her like this. It was like talking to a younger Achilles, admittedly.

    “Do you doubt yourself?” he called out bluntly, pointing a finger at her as he immediately noticed her general lack of confidence in herself. An experienced combatant and a legendary one at that, it would be easy for Achilles tell a seasoned warrior from someone still wet behind the ears. “That could get you killed, you know?” It was a truthful statement, but not one meant to discourage her. “If you’re aiming to prove yourself, you shouldn’t be so irresolute. Those you seek for help will sense this, as I have. On that note, I’m no Saber, unfortunately–”

    It almost seemed like he was about to decline any knowledge of swordsmanship, but he flashed her a grin and a wink. “But I’m more than a match for any Saber. You’re in luck, little sis. I was trained by the best in all manners of combat, sword play is but one of them.”

Lily scowls impressively at his words--"Is recognizing my weaknesses and trying to improve myself really 'doubting' myself? Would doubters not simply keep their troubles to themselves and never look to change?" she laces her fingers together in her lap, mouth pursing as she considers his words. She doesn't like being labelled as someone who doubted themself--she knows what she ultimately would have been capable of had she not been a Servant stuck at this stage in her life. But even in this state--why should she not continue to learn and grow?

Of course, his boast of his prowess in swordsmanship is all that it takes for her to forget the seed of doubt that's been planted in her heart. Lily was hopeful, of course--he looked awfully strong--but the mere words 'you're in luck' make her heart soar. That meant he was probable to help her, right...?

Her scowl disappears in an instant, replaced with the careless, exuberant smile of an energetic young girl. "Really?" the girl asks, hands coming up to press against the tabletop as she all but leans over towards him. "Truly? I thought you looked skilled--but you really know all sorts of combat?" her eyes are shining, like she's been lucky enough to find a whole shell among all the shards at the beach. "Would you mind teaching me a few things? I'm a good student, I promise!"

[calesvola-blog]

One of my pieces from the Forgotten Kingdoms Zine! Just realized I never posted this here lol

[calesvola-blog]

mibeltane:

    Ahh, yep. There it was. She was so casually honest about it that he couldn’t blame the way she made him sound like a bum. Sleeping in the park, huh? He supposed it was no different from what he was doing already, but… – Robin wasn’t used to having a home without the night birds making their unruly sounds to lull him to sleep, without the amber color of the evening horizon to blanket the trees in its comfort.

    “Talking is nice and all, but I still don’t… really think I’m the kind of guy you should waste your time on. Believe me, nothing good’s gonna come out of it. No matter how noble you think I am deep down… it’s not worth investing in. I mean, the pay-off won’t be much in the end, you get me? … though I guess you’re just gonna ignore my warnings at every turn anyway, huh? You’re a stubborn bunch. Kings, I mean. And… kings-in-training, I guess.” His poison would never work on this girl, on this fledgling king – and in a way, Robin found it way too exhausting, what with that genuine tone of hers. He dangled the lonely stick of his popsicle in the air in front of them. Another loser, huh. Well, that wasn’t too surprising, and with a flick he’d already tossed it into a trash can just across. “You don’t need to bother your Pops.”

     “The two of you… should have way more pride than to bother with a thief’s lodgings. But as far as the zoo’s concerned, I’m down for delivering your tickets. That much I can do.“ He scratched the edge of his nose.

Lily's frown deepens as Robin begins his newest tirade of self-loathing, worthless drivel. Her fingers curl tighter around her cone and it cracks, leading to a new, steadier stream of melted ice cream dripping down her fingers. She licks at it, brow still furrowed in concern and thought, and then Robin calls himself that again.

She curls her free hand into a fist and reaches up and socks him soundly in the shoulder--unkingly, unknightly, but she feels it is validated nonetheless. "Don't say that!" she scolds, her reprimand softened somewhat by the unruly, unclean state of her face. "You're not a thief. And the pride that Richie and I have is the honor of kings--and what honor do kings have if they don't take care of their friends?"

The princeling slides a little closer to him on the bench and sticks her left arm through his, winding it over the crook of his elbow and leans so her head is resting against his upper arm. She holds him tightly, like she's afraid he's going to spirit himself away at any moment. She purses her lips and puffs her cheeks out in great thought and then lets out a heavy sigh, snuggling her head closer against him.

"Can't you just let us care for you for once?"

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mibeltane:

     Worst flavor… now, wait just one second… – 

     But Robin let it go with a single loud crunch of his popsicle, the chill sending a quick shudder through his whole body. Ugh. Never again. 

     It figured that she’d bring up the one thing he hadn’t wanted to discuss, and while there was a part of him that wanted to shut it out, to change the subject abruptly… Robin had always been far too generous of a soul for a boy who’d basically raised himself. Even at his worst, he was kind – just another bleeding heart whose efforts never amounted to anything in the end. Robin spread his arms back against the spine of the bench as he recalled the sad state his friend had been in and the supposed turmoil between the two. So Richard hadn’t been contacting her at all, huh… – not that Robin could blame him, after all that’d happened. 

     “A zoo, huh… that doesn’t sound too bad. Take him with you sometime. Maybe they’ve got discounts for you noble-types… a little red carpet to lay out or somethin’.” And Robin’s smile was lopsided as he pictured the two of them with their faces pressed up against the glass like children, shuffling back and forth between different exhibits. “A son? Man, Servant life never gets old… sounds like you’ve been pretty busy with or without his company, anyway. Still, why don’t you write him a letter or something? It’s not like he wouldn’t read it… – believe me, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.“

     When the conversation switched to focus on him, though, something made his fingers quiver uneasily along the stick of his popsicle. He’d never get used to being the spotlight. “Ahh, well. I was in a bit of a tight spot, what with people trying to track me down… “ He refrained from mentioning how roughed-up he was. No need to dim that blinding light in her eyes. “… I’ve been, uhh, borrowing a couch in Richie’s place, you see. I guess you could say it feels a little weird, what when you’re used to bunking outside… not exactly my style.”

"I want him to go with me," she complains loudly, eating her ice cream with the sloppy manners of a prince who has gotten too comfortable with a new friend. Her legs, not quite long enough to touch the ground, swing back and forth. She gets a mischievous smile on her ice-cream smeared lips, and beams it towards Robin. "You could come with us, you know..! And I don't think they have a red carpet. Maybe Richie could talk to them about that, if you wanted it, but I don't think any of us are really important enough. A king should feel confident walking among his people." She completely misconstrues his dig at her noble birth. "I really hope the zoo has a dragon. Have you ever seen a dragon, Mr. Hood?"

She's finished the top scoop of her ice cream: lemon sorbet is now just a memory, remembered only by the half-melted juice that has run down the other scoops and Lily's fingers. "I could write him a letter. That's a good idea--I could... I could get tickets for the zoo and put them in there, and seal it with my signet, and then he wouldn't be able to say no," the princeling nods, firmly. A knight is subject to his liege's laws, after all. "But you still have to come with us." Who would keep the two kings from plotting together to free the theoretical dragon at the zoo, if he didn't?

"You can come stay with me and my dad, too, if you need to," Lily says. She pats Robin's arm reassuringly. "We don't have a yard though. Have you thought about sleeping in the park?" she says this last bit so innocently, with not a hint of ill will in her words.

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chivalour:

       he accepts the outburst quietly, because she is right. He knows it well, knows first hand what it is to ask for help from someone who barely spared him a stare anymore. It eats at his stomach and makes him feel sick, but Richard has no rights to sulk when Lily is obviously the one hurting. Even when she claims not to have any other wounds, even when she reaches out to places he knows well were once hurt – even then, he has no rights to feel as miserable as he does. Isn’t it just ironic? To fail the one person Richard has looked up to his entire life, just because it’s him. A man who’s used to being abandoned and left behind, sold out and betrayed, of course such kind of thing would happen. He isn’t a good person, and if Arthur ever comes to hung her head low and turn her back on him, Richard would just accept it.

       ❝ No, you are wrong. I deserved that. ❞ There is a wish there, to reach out to her and hold her trembling hand, but he does not. What rights does Richard have to touch her at all, when so many times, again and again, he has hurt her? ❝ My King, I…  ❞

       ❝ I wholeheartedly apologize for my behavior as of late. I– I have no excuses, and it’s.. it was unfair of me. Though I had believed you would be the one who wouldn’t wish to talk to me, you… you’re still as kind and forgiving as the tales say. ❞ I suppose I understand Sir Lancelot’s anguish over being forgiven, he wants to complete but does not, because that is a future she does not know of. A future he shouldn’t spoil for her, Heroic Spirit or not. ❝ But if I may, you are wrong in one thing. You can never grow as a knight or a king if you are dead; it’s only wise to acknowledge defeat when it’s at your door. You must always rely on those who swore to protect you, and if it anguishes you to do such thing, then live and train. Live and get stronger. That is how you grow as a warrior, ultimately. ❞

       He manages a small smile at her, careful and soft yet still full of sorrow; but more than anything, too, Richard manages to reach out and hold her hand. It’s small and delicate and barely wounded, hard to find any callous in it compared to his own hand. Though he is more than aware, it’s even more visible now how young this Arthur is. An Arthur who barely knew the horrors that awaited her in the future, who could smile wide and brightly – Richard would never wish to be the one to take away such purity. He holds the girl’s hand more firmly, holds it in between his two hands and touches his forehead against the back of her hand.

       It’s way too hard to hold those tears back, and though he succeeds barely, the voice that leaves his throat is as hoarse as would be a broken man’s. ❝ I am most deeply sorry. ❞

Richard touches her hand and whatever anger and frustration Lily had still been holding in her heart immediately dissolves. Her fingers grip his tightly and her lower lip begins to tremble when he presses his forehead against the back of her hand--but it's his apology that is her undoing. As soon as the sorry passes his lips, she flings herself forward towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and inextricably twining herself around him in the way that only young children can do.

It's not cute, and it's not clean. She bawls into his shoulder, fat tears rolling down her cheek and snot bubbling from her nose. He probably gets covered in more spit than anything else as she babbles incoherently at him. There's no possible way he could understand most of what she's saying--she's not even sure she could understand it, but she finally calms herself enough that she can pull away just enough to look him in the eyes, arms still wrapped around his neck, mouth still trembling and eyes still watery.

"Are we still friends?" she asks, voice more like a croak now that she's let out her tears. "Did you swear to protect me, Richie? Are you my knight?"

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flowermagus:

Merlin is hungry.

He was well-accustomed to the gnawing emptiness that plagued him within Avalon, a hollow feeling that prompted him to sleep so he could take what he needed from dreams. It was rare for him to eat back then – exploring dreams meant he couldn’t observe the world in its state of crisis – so now that he’s been freed from his prison, he tends to overindulge. Beautiful women, lonely men, desperate people in search of someone’s approval: To a parasite like him, it’s a buffet.

But then, there’s a voice. It’s one that he hasn’t heard in a long time, the twinkling call of a young girl who has yet to feel the wrenching claws of responsibility tearing down on her delicate shoulders. Merlin turns away from the woman he’s attempting to charm, his eyes going wide; he looks down to see Arturia clamoring for him, one foot bare and the other clad in a heavy boot. In an instant, his hunger is forgotten, and he drops to his knees in order to receive his daughter with arms spread wide.

“My Lily,” he says fondly, stroking a hand along the soft pale of her hair. She’s as small and delicate as he remembers, like a flower that only blooms once, or a tiny bird with hollow bones. “Where did your shoe go?” He gives her a once-over like any father would, pausing at her face; there’s a bit of soot there, probably from the industrial sector, so he licks his thumb and scrubs it away.

"Merlin, that's gross," Lily complains loudly, scrubbing at the spot where he's put his wet thumb with her own hand, scowling with the discontent of a daughter put upon by her father. It's instantly forgive and forgotten though and she tightens her arms back around him, pushing her face into his chest. Her eyes close and she feels suffused with warmth. This, then, is something she has not felt, has not had, in too long of a time. A child needs the love of her parent in order to truly bloom.

" 'S over there," unwilling to unwind her arms from Merlin's waist, she jerks her head in the general direction of the bench she'd been sitting on and her now-abandoned boot. She can deal with being bootless for the rest of her life, as long as it means she doesn't lose her father again. "Where did YOU go?"

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pyrrhiclegend:

    They seem first impressions last and this one is certainly unlike that of the Saber he was familiar with, that’s for sure. They looked the same, but that’s where the similarities ended for them. The Saber he remembered, fresh from memory, was brash and confrontational, holding a rather tomboyish air. Not to mention, that Saber held within their eyes a familiar grip on violence, one Achilles himself would recognize easily. But this young girl before him? She is anything but. The timid sort, but even as she shifted beneath his gaze, he could tell that there was excellence beneath those crystalline eyes of hers.

    Wary, too. A warrior of his caliber knew that she had already gauged the situation. After all, any Servant worth their salt knew that heroic spirits engaging one another usually ended in violence, an unfortunate consequence of their very nature. But exemptions could be made. Lucky her, as Achilles wouldn’t even think about challenging another Servant if they were not in their truest potential. 

    It would be a waste and an insult to their names, otherwise.

    “My mistake then,” he coolly replied, leaning against the chair now, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug. “You looked like the Saber I knew from afar, so I thought to come by. Turns out you’re someone completely different. Not even close to the one I’m thinking of.” But close enough. Her relation to that knight in red ran deeper than blood relations, more than Achilles would realize. “Enjoying your meal then? Let me guess… you don’t look like a Caster. Assassin would never be out in the open like this. Besides, you don’t look shady enough to be one.”

    He would have kept on guessing, had it not been for the younger woman’s question regarding Saber of Red. Curiosity sparkled in those eyes. “Aren’t all Sabers good swordsmen? They wouldn’t be in that class if they weren’t. But from what I can tell, yeah. That one can hold her own. Though as a rival to me? Hah!” Achilles scoffed. “Not in this lifetime, I’m afraid.”

She giggles a little when he says she's not quite shady enough to be an Assassin, and the corners of her moth quirk up, cheeks dimpling with her amusement. She likes him, despite her misgivings--she thinks he's haughty and self-centered and altogether to forward, entirely unknightly, but he reminds her of Kay, in a way, and it's more than enough to warm her to the stranger.

"There's a lot of people around here who look like me," she confides to him, then. "Why, just the other day I met another Saber who told me he is my descendant, of all things." She pauses for a second to consider Richard--he is fairly red, isn't he? But no, this man has specified that his mysterious Saber of Red is a she, so it couldn't be Richard. "So I'm not at all surprised to hear there's yet another person who looks like me."

She tucks her heels over the bottom rung of her chair and clasps her hands in her lap, tilting her head again as she, for perhaps the first time in this conversation, very carefully considers her words. "Surely all Sabers are good swordsmen, as you say, but there are, of course, some who are better than others..." and she considers herself numbered among those who are far more mediocre. She is capable enough, but when faced with the strength of a fully grown adult, or someone who had significantly more training... she simply doesn't pass muster. "That is why I am searching for impressive Sabers to help train me."

The final question, then: "...You wouldn't happen to know anything about swordsmanship, would you?"

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mibeltane:

     “Oh? Almost got it. Almost.” He watched her failed attempts without giving blatant advice this time, just to get a feel for what she lacked in silence. He felt it natural that she had promise, and even a missed attempt or two had the force of someone giving it their best go. The little prince was spirited.

     And while normally their names would be hidden from one another, locked away so as to hide their identities, there wasn’t really a need for that here he’d learned. Something still pushed him inside to introduce himself as Archer at times, but wouldn’t it just be too awkward at this point? Still, he wasn’t used to the needless formality nor the fact that she’d put so much care into what to call him. Robin was used to nicknames, to being a faceless figure or even people just forgetting what to call him completely. He felt like covering his face for a moment, but forced a smile instead. “… but I mean, don’t worry tacking on anything fancy. Just Robin is fine on its own, yeah? No need for that ‘mister’ stuff.”

     He scratched the edge of his nose and smiled sheepishly, momentarily taken aback by the blatant confidence in him. These types were always so openly honest, and while it was a relief to know what the other was thinking out-right, the “Your Highness really goes too far… ahh, to give a humble woodsman like myself such praise.” He joked, tone dripping with a singsong-like sarcasm. It was the easiest way to hide his embarrassment, to quickly shelf even the quickest  “Stick around long enough with a low-life with me and you’ll get it. We come in all kinds of shapes and flavors. A real smorgasbord of cowardice. Well, either way, since you’re busy keeping me company… I suppose I’ll just have to take the compliment either way.”

     The archer rubbed a hand idly on his side and then folded his arms again with eyebrows raised, standing a little taller despite how much self-deprecation he vomited. “With so many Kings in my court, you’d think I’d be royalty by now too. Glad I’m not, though. Doesn’t sound as fun. Still… Arthur, huh… – that’s why he’s so.. “

Lily thinks perhaps it's the other way around--Mr. Hood is really the one keeping her company, isn't he? There is something to be said about a man selfless and concerned enough to take the time to think and help a girl he doesn't even know, especially in a situation like this.

"There's still time to become royalty, though, Mr. Hood. You shouldn't count your chickens before they hatch!" the princeling has a small smile on her face, a red blush obvious on her cheeks and the tips of her ears. He really is a handsome man, isn't he?

Lily twists the slingshot in her hands, almost shy and childlike. "A-anyways, I don't think you can say that there are so many kings. I'm certainly not a king yet... Isn't it just Richie?" she pauses for a moment, lips pursed, and then glances up at Robin through her eyelashes. "Unless you have another king you hang around, Mr. Hood?" she is very obviously ignoring his request to just call him 'Robin'.

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mibeltane:

@calesvola

     How did he always end up in these situations? Not that he minded somewhat babysitting and somewhat having a good time, but – God, if you’re watching out there, give this poor huntsman a sign.

     “Four whole scoops. I guess a growing girl needs what she can get… “ Robin commented lightly as he passed over a soon-to-possibly-drip-all-over-the-pavement cone to the energetic looking king-to-be next to him. Robin Hood, on the other hand, had decided on something far more modest on their little summer afternoon walk: a single grape popsicle, to which he licked gingerly. 

     “So, what’ve you been up to lately, little lady? I’ve been, uh… kinda scarce myself.”

"Thank you for buying!" Lily's voice is almost a crow as she takes the impossibly stacked, sprinkled and dipped waffle cone in two hands, eagerly biting at the four separate flavors Robin has so considerately had piled up for her. There's mint and strawberry cheesecake and chocolate and, unbelievably so, lemon sorbet. Even so, as she licks and bites at the ice cream, she glances at Robin's popsicle and nearly scowls. "Grape? Really, Mr. Hood? There couldn't be a worse flavor you could pick." As if she had the tastebuds to judge the huntsman as she enjoyed the taste of chocolate lemon sorbet.

She doesn't feel the need to tell Robin that she stopped growing when she drew the sword from the stone. It is better to get more food than less, she bargains.

"Well," she presses the index finger of her free hand against her lips, considering. "Papa took me to the arcade and we played this game--Dance Dance Revolution. Have you heard of it? For such an old man, his legs are certainly sprier than mine. He beat me soundly. But that won't be for long... I'll beat him next time, you'll see. And then, Richard... Well, Richie was supposed to take me to the zoo, but he still won't talk to me very much, if at all. I wish he would. I miss him a lot. And the knights... did you know that another me supposedly had knights of the round table? And a son!" her expression is surprised, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. "There's so much I'm learning here that I'm not sure I even wanted to know, Mr. Hood!" and then, the response, "so I don't believe at all that you've been scarce." She sits next to Robin on a thin-planked wooden bench. "Tell me all about it?"

[calesvola-blog]

chivalour:

@calesvola.

       upon the promise of being more helpful, Richard does try his best. His spirits aren’t back up as they used to be, but he doesn’t hide his face behind his legs and refuse to talk to others. There’s some isolating from his part, but overall, the only person he truly avoids is a young girl covered in white. He doesn’t spare her a glance, tries to be as far from her as possible, even after a certain incident where she had, accidentally, hit a nut to his face. It may have hurt, but to that the king supposes - he deserves that.

       He agrees to be more helpful, and when their camp had been surrounded by the plant creatures of the District, he picks up a sword ( wooden, of course, but there isn’t anything wrong with that ) and helps others to scare them away. Some were caught in traps, others managed to escape, yet he is soon warned by the man in his shadow that a certain someone is in trouble.

       Of course she is, he thinks. She is still a prince, inexperienced, without Merlin or Kay to guide her. The man rushes to her side, that same beautiful young girl fallen on the floor with a being twice her size approaching. Richard’s steps are careful but quick, his swordsmanship skills proving to be fearsome when he delivers powerful strikes to send the beast running.

       ❝ You should have asked for help, you idiot. ❞ Though his voice is serious, there is no real anger in it. Richard kneels before the fallen prince, a worried look in his face. He may have been too awkward and scared to speak with her just moments ago, but more than anything he wouldn’t forgive himself if he allowed the king he so much loves and admires to be hurt - if not worse. There is clear hesitation to touch her, but the king reaches out for her bloodied arm. A scratch, and not the prettiest ones. It could be worse, but for someone so small… ❝ You wouldn’t have been able to pick up your sword if this had caught your tendon… ❞ He sighs. Honestly… ❝ Are you hurt somewhere else? I’m no doctor, but Robin may be able to treat these. ❞

Lily glowers up at the king, who has been avoiding her for so long, for some reason she does not know. "And who would have come to my aid, had I called? A man who will not even make eye contact with me anymore?" she asks, nose in the air with an irritation--a sadness--that's been building for days now. Her cheeks flush red and she pouts impressively, the expression showing, starkly, just how young she really is.

She feels poorly after the outburst, however; it is not only unknightly, it's unkingly to react so ungratefully to someone offering her aid. She is sure that if Kay was here, he would be chiding her. A king cannot take such kindnesses and friends for granted--especially not when there are such things as poisons and knives in the dark.

So Lily reaches back to him in kind with her uninjured, little fingers curling around his forearm. She misses her armor dearly--just as she's sure he misses his. "I'm sorry," she says, stiffly. "You didn't deserve that. I should have asked for help. But I can never grow as a knight or a king if I cannot learn how to do things by myself." How could she ever be a king if she could not learn to command, to feel the aura of a battlefield and know, instinctively, where to send her men?

"I don't think I'm hurt much anywhere else," she says, extending the wounded arm so the scratch shows more plainly. "My ankle..." but then, when she looks down at her slender leg, there's nothing marring the smooth skin. Her hand leaves Richard's arm and she raises it, touching her collar-covered throat with trembling fingers, and then shakes her head. "No. I am fine. I apologize, Sir Richard."

[calesvola-blog]

mibeltane:

    Arth – that Arthur? Robin’s whole stance froze if only for a moment with the weight of a name too heavy to ignore. Certainly, he had expected her to be someone of a higher status than him with the way she talked at times, but not that high. It was a name that carried certain images with it, of tight-lipped men in miserably cold armor standing over the shaded terrain of their kingdom, a look as uninviting as it was heroic. Chivalry, bravery, justice – it was a name that carried the wishes of the people onto the battlefield and beyond it. A legend whose poems and songs were extraordinary, an ideal he could’ve never reached in a lifetime. Not with these underhanded methods, at least.

     Lily. Lillies were purity and devotion and youth – suitable for a green-horned prince, then.

     Simply put, Robin didn’t like knights. DIdn’t like the ones whose beliefs only existed to serve a certain someone’s needs, didn’t like the stuffy fools who turned an eye from the face of whatever tyrannical regime they served under the guise of some selfish loyalty. He always grimaced whenever he pictured one lecturing him on the proper conduct to live by, but was eternally grateful for the fact that she seemed not as full-fledged as the casual name drop would have one to believe.

    Arthur… Arthur. He turned the name over and over in his head until the sudden snap of the sling and the clonk of a target being hit brought to light what he’d immediately failed to realize – 

    The shocking discourse that lay beneath the surface. It couldn’t be, could it? 

    “Actually, you know what – let’s just. Let’s just take a totally different direction with this. Don’t worry about our good ol’ pal Richard there… uh, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He hastily, gently placed a hand on either shoulder and veered her in a different direction. Crap. He’d rather not ruin the effort he’d put into a certain King’s revival, and inwardly he hoped the accidental blow hadn’t notched off another hole in that wounded heart of his. Robin could always check on him later if need be.

     “Arthur, huh… Lily, then. What kinda luck was I blessed with to get stuck with so many cavalier-types… “ The dim light of the evening grew dimmer sstill, and he knew he’d have to finish this lesson before complete darkness settled in and his watch started. “Ah, also… you don’t really need to tack on a ‘sir’ for a guy like me. I’m just another Servant like you – albeit far less noble or memorable. Ever heard the story of ‘Robin Hood’? Probably. Well… if it weren’t obvious enough by the attire and the way I’ve setup shop here, I just so happen to be a crook of the same name. The kind that always takes his shot safely from the back-line, not the front. Oh – here, here. This spot’ll do better. See if you can knock that rotting apple clean off that branch… no, no. That one.” He guided her aim lightly in the direction of which one he’d been eyeing. 

Lily cranes her head around in a futile attempt to get another look at poor, injured Richard as the woodsman steers her away. She gives up as he points out the apples to her--he must truly be an Archer, then, if his keen eyes can pick out the difference between a healthy apple and a rotting one even in this near darkness. She squats to pick up another rock, skirts pooling around her skinny legs and hem dragging on the ground, dirt and grime attaching itself under her chewed raw nails and the ridges of her knuckles.

She re-homes the stone in her sling, and gives the woodsman a faint smile--one that might have been called sheepish if it had come from anyone else. Here, rather, it is more... indulgent, compassionate, a mother to a child, a liege to her subject. "I can't say I've heard of the tale, Sir-- ah, that is to say, Mr. Robin, or would you prefer Mr. Hood?" the prince pulls the sling back, closing one eye and squinting, tongue between her teeth as if it will help her aim. She glances briefly at Mr. Hood again, to see if he has any approval or dissatisfaction with the way she's holding the sling before she lets it go.

Her stone hits the tree branch with a resounding thunk of stone against wood: a much more satisfying sound than stone against flesh. Lily frowns at having missed, fingers curling possessively around the sling. "I guess I'll need much more practice before I can hit anything, won't I?" she says to the woodsman, lips curling up at the thought. At least there would be something to do around here--if he would indulge her, at least.

"Besides that," she puts a finger to her lips and taps it, as if in deep thought. "I think you are wrong about yourself, Mr. Hood. The 'crook' types that I know would not be as chivalrous and noble as to save an unknown maiden in distress from a forest as... voracious as this one. Those kinds of guys are really only looking out for their own skin." She shrugs. "Even if you were the sort, I would've expected some type of ransom threat by now. Perhaps you're more knightly than you think, woodsman?"

[calesvola-blog]

hey fa- uh. lily! yeah, hey, lily! here's some chocolates or.. whatever. e-enjoy!

C-chocolates.... !! 

Thank you..! I can’t say how appreciative I am of-- ...wait, who are you again? 

[calesvola-blog]

mibeltane:

     Whoa, now. Anyone else viewing this sudden approach, this incredibly bold younger woman placing a hand on his knee would probably think something typically shady was about to happen – but take heart, any sordid viewers, Robin Hood was a man who could resist the simple temptations in life. Simply put, she was too young, and he hadn’t exactly been prepared for the abrupt invasion of his personal space. He leaned back, and stuttered if only for a moment. The comfort of darkness and the summer head had caused him to drop his hood, and only now did he briefly regret it.

     “Wh �� well, I.. mean. There’d be no harm in letting you have a go at it. It’s just something I whipped up real quick… not exactly ‘good work’, but it’ll do. Better than having nothing, at least. I’m well-suited to unfortunate circumstances like this, luckily enough. Or unluckily.”

     It was nice to see someone so green, someone with so much room to grow – and Robin’s mind wandered to the days spent wandering aimless through the trees behind a mountain of a man, just as faceless as he. He could never remember what his parents had looked like nor the warmth in their hands, but Robin certainly remembered the things that’d kept him alive once they’d both abruptly left him behind – vague memories of what food they’d fed him, how to climb a tree faster than a red squirrel, the right angle at which to gaze up into the canopy at night and see the brightest star, what to whisper back to voices that carried light upon the wind.

     Caliburn, though… ? That sounded almost familiar. It was right at the tip of his tongue, even.

     He patted the girl on the shoulder once he’d recovered and then rose to his feet with the most well-prepped experimental sling. It’d been laced together with thick vine and earthy moss, and he stretched it tight in the air to show off the elasticity. It wouldn’t last forever, but as long as it held well enough to support a decent rock that’d do. They could make more, would make more, enough to employ a decent band of ruffians if need be.

     “So, ah. What’d you say your name was again? Didn’t quite catch it before. “ His green eyes scanned until he managed to point a simple target nearby – the closest tree. One that’d been occupied by some sad sap who fortunately wasn’t there at the moment. Once he was satisfied, Robin slipped the wooden instrument in her hands and guided it in the right direction. “Just pull when you feel comfortable with the distance. But the longer you hold it, the harder it snaps. Give it a shot.”

"It certainly is good work," Lily insists in her most kingly voice, while puffing her cheeks and pouting a little in a very distinctly unkingly manner, hands on her hips. "It isn't something any ordinary craftsman could do; do you see anyone else putting their hands to use? We are lucky to have you looking after us." And lucky that most of them, it seemed, did not have to eat--despite all her time in the wilderness, learning such knightly things at Merlin and Kay's feet, she can scarcely remember how to tie a snare or set a trap, much less... fish? When she thinks of 'food' now, there are only images of freshly made hamburgers, greasy fries, and luscious swirls of soft-serve ice cream in her mind.

She holds the sling in her hand, letting him guide her to where he wanted her to shoot, and picked up a nearby nut to settle into the little cup he'd made of moss. She pulls the vine section back, squinting a little to try and see where she is shooting--and then looks at the woodsman and graces him with a toothy grin.

"I suppose I didn't introduce myself, did I? That's awfully rude of me. I'm Prince Arthur Pendragon, though you may call me Lily--everyone else does," and as soon as she's said this, still looking at the man in green, she looses the slingshot, letting the nut whirl off into the darkness.

She asks, "And what is your name, Sir Hood?" at the same time as there is the distinct thunk of said nut hitting something that is definitely, without a doubt, flesh and blood instead of the tree the woodsman had aimed her towards. Her ponytail whips to the side as she twists her head back to where she'd shot and the very sad looking man holding a hand to his head in agony.

"Richie!" her hands fly up to cover her mouth. "Oh no! Richie!" No wonder the knight didn't want to talk to her lately.

[calesvola-blog]

mibeltane:

@calesvola

     Well. She certainly wasn’t what he’d expected to find when he’d checked a hastily-made cage trap, but it was better than some claw and teeth monster snapping up at him. Lucky girl, too, to have mostly avoided injury.

     Though she was another culprit prancing about in borrowed steel – though it’d been far more… troubling to ask for a young girl to remove her armor. But she’d understood their situation fairly easily, and for that he was eternally thankful. Didn’t need any miscommunication concerning that bit of mess. And though she casually demanded more out of the meals he prepared than the rest, her spunk was certainly appreciated when it came to gathering. At least more than a certain someone who was unresponsive. If he weren’t, well, himself, he may have even patted her on the head as she came trotting back to camp with a dress full of plausible firewood and edibles. All he could offer her really was a simple thanks, and then get to work as usual.

     That was what he was good for, anyway – work. 

     There was a pause when he caught her staring, and Robin didn’t miss how the campfire’s dim light managed to illuminate her innocence even further. He twirled the knife between his fingers and smirked lightly, not too bothered by the interruption. A single cloth spread lay in front of him, and upon it were sharpened trinkets made out of wood and bones and laced vines. He’d been using a rock to edge sticks into blades that’d serve to whittle down even more wood into usable tools. Simple stuff. The process was long and arduous, but it’d certainly serve them well in the long-run.

     "I would’ve told you it’s past your bed-time, but well, it’s kinda obvious you don’t need it.” He continued without looking up, but there was a smirk to match the sarcasm plain on his face, a face that was often hidden by shadows and green. 

     “You like these?” He waved a sharpened stick over the soon-to-be slingshots and other makeshift weapons. “Not sure if this kind of crude work would suit a little lady like yourself, but I don’t mind letting you take a closer look. I get the feeling you’re used to wielding fancier stuff.”

Waking up had been a strange and moderately painful process, to say the least--she'd been dry mouthed and dizzy, unable to stand without her vision blurring, and her stomach and neck had hurt something fierce. She had wandered--where? when?--aimlessly, her concept of "here" and "now" sliding between the present and a time long past, ages and deaths ago, and she found herself looking for... who, again? The name was on the tip of her tongue, someone near and dear to her, who would come when she called.

She'd been saved by a man who was honestly much too kind and much too handsome, and he'd made her leave her armor behind, but that was a small price to pay for the comfort of human (or rather, Servant?) company and the knowledge of someone whose woodscraft was, by far and large, the most superb she'd ever seen.

The firelight plays off of her eyes like they would a cat's, leaving them gleaming green and luminescent, not quite entirely mortal. Lily shuffles forward at his acknowledgement of her presence, taking it as an invitation to come closer, and kneels next to him. She peers over at his cloth piled with makeshift weapons, and reaches out to pick up one of his sharpened wooden blades.

"This looks a lot like what they gave me when they took away my Caliburn," she says, admiring his handiwork. Wooden weapons are, of course, inferior to any kind of tempered steel, but the woodsman seemed to be fairly adamant that metal was not to be allowed in the forest. "Sharper, though."

She stands up with it and, unconcerned about the uneven ground beneath her or the darkness around them, runs through a quick set of drills, lunging, thrusting, piercing. Her skirts, unhindered due to her lack of armor, swirl around her like flowing white petals, making the movements look less like a drill and more like an elaborate dance.

"I like it," she says when she's done, kneeling back next to him and replacing it. "Wood never has the same weight or balance as steel, but it will do.” And then, in the voice of a king to a craftsman, “It’s good work."

Her eyes, then, alight on one of the slingshots he's made, and her demeanor changes from cool-headed knight-prince to excitable princess. Her hand comes up to grip his knee, and she looks up at him with shining eyes, "Can you teach me how to use that sling, mister? My brother always promised me he would teach me, but he never did."