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Message: <blockquote data-quote="StalkingBlue" data-source="post: 1358154" data-attributes="member: 645">Here's a little scene that randomling (as Saphie's player) and I (as Helm) came up with before last Sunday.  It was originally meant to be an intro for my new character.  Little did we suspect that it was destined to stand in place of an obituary for both of us.   <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" /> Content warning:  As the title might suggest, this is ... different.   <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f61b.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":p" title="Stick out tongue    :p"  data-smilie="7"data-shortname=":p" />  Knights At HomeHelm has arrived in Gaxmoor, got a bath and a shave and changed into his court dress in record time. He's grabbed a man he judged appropriate to announce him to Saphie, and already his vaguely familiar stomping resounds as he approaches down the hallway ... "Helm of Gorn, to pay his respects to your Ladyship," the guardsman announces, far from self-assured in the feminine environment of the Margrave’s sister’s apartments.  In and around the poor man Helm strides, heels clicking together as he takes a flawlessly correct, if squarish bow, sword at his side. "Most honoured Cousin..." the knight begins, somewhat strained."Helm!" Saphie's face lights up as she rises to her feet. "It's so good to see you!" She looks at him for a moment, taking in the sober expression on his face. "What is it? Do you have news of Tarin?"Helm strides forward, hands outstretched to meet hers. "Saphanie. You must arm your heart with courage. It is news of Tarin that I bring."Saphie falters... but just a little. "Come and sit down," she says, somewhat unsteadily, guiding him over the table where she's been sitting. "Can I get you something to drink?""Saphie. Listen." Helm pushes gently for her to sit down (but continues whether she'll sit or not). "It was at Justiminium. We were fighting a retreat. It was a bloody day.  Tarin gave his life for us."Saphie sits. For a long moment, she stares at Helm, then forcefully blinks back tears. Drawing a deep breath, she says, "Were you with him at the end?""He died in my arms. His last words were of you. He smiled. He bade me assure you of his - undying devotion. Saphie, he died well, and no man better. It was Ukko's will."Saphie shakes her head, closes her eyes, and falls silent, groping for Helm's hand.Helm takes her hand in both of his and pats it, awkwardly, for the briefest of moments, then draws away.  “There is something you should know.  It is not right that should be bereaved of all protection as well as love.  So I thought –.  In fact, I pledged my word to Tarin on it.  Cousin –“ Something is obviously distressing him.  Remain a knight, or follow ancient family tradition?  There can be no question, really.  –  Helm gulps and hurtles onward at the more terrifying enemy.  “So if our recent defeats have not changed your heart about a possible alliance with an Imgart house.  And if it be Ukko’s will that I live through this coming week – I will be prepared and willing to step into Tarin’s place and take you to wife.”  There.  It is done.  A long breath whistles out of him.  “If that is any comfort.  I cannot tell you how I have wished that lance had found me and not him.”  Saphie takes a moment to wipe away her tears, then opens her eyes. She finds herself once again staring into his face and once again reaching for his hand. "Helm..." She flounders a little, then smiles. "I am honoured to accept, Cousin." Briefly, she links her fingers with his, then lifts her hand gently away.Something in Helm’s thunderstruck silence must have been unsatisfactory.  For  …  A moment later, Saphie is standing and turning away from her cousin, pulling her hair nervously back from her face with one hand. "Helm... I would be honoured. I am honoured..." He can see her twisting her hair through her fingers. She turns back to face him. "You do not love me, Helm. Not as Tarin did." Her gaze drops to the floor. "Nor do I love you." A long pause, then: "I would not marry at my brother's behest. I won't marry at Tarin's either. Thank you for your kind offer, Helm, but I'll marry for love, and no other reason." She turns to leave him, her composure regained, and takes a few steps before looking back. "I'm sure my brother and I would be honoured if you would join us for dinner this evening, Helm. Good day." Helm sways slightly in the fury of Saphie's wake. The door bangs. A moment of silence before Helm recollects himself, looks startled at the femininity of his surroundings, and hurriedly stomps away. ***Which could have been the awkward end of that.  But wasn’t.  Or not quite.  About an hour before dinner …Saphie finds out which guest room Helm has been put in, and makes her way there. She clears her throat, smoothes her dress, and knocks on the door three times.“Come!”  Saphie takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps into the room. "Cousin, I want to apologize to you for my appalling conduct this afternoon. I was extremely grateful for the news of Tarin you brought, and most honoured by your proposal, and I should not have responded with such unforgivable rudeness. Please forgive me." The entire speech is delivered at high speed, and is clearly a prepared speech, but sincere in its sentiment. She takes another step into the room and shuts the door behind her.Helm clearly had expected anyone but Saphie.  As the door opens, he glances up from the window seat where he’s sitting, shoeless, cleaning his sword with a cloth – and shoots up from his seat in the greatest discomfort, colour rising as her speech unfolds.  “Well,”  he says.  “Well.  Cousin.”  He starts forward, suddenly remembers to put the sword and cloth down, turns back.  “Come in then – I mean to say, welcome to have come in.  Cousin?  I may still call you that, mayn’t I?  Even if –.”  Shoes.  He wriggles into them as unobtrusively as he can, which is not very.  “It is I who should apologise.  I ought not to have spoken to you so soon of such matters.”  He smiles ruefully.  “I suppose Ukko in His wisdom knew why he denied me the hands of a healer.  Will you not come and tell me how you have been?”  (Picking the sword and cloth back up from the window seat and looking around for another place to put it.)  “Unless of course you prefer to … have a third party present?”  Saphie smiles in response as she takes a seat beside him. "My dear Cousin," she says, "I'm sure you will be the perfect gentleman, as ever."“Well. Well … Tell me, Saphie. Have you been well?” Helm grows serious as he lowers his heavy shape down on the seat beside her, sword and cleaning cloth disposed at this feet. “There was talk when you left Justiminium so suddenly. Stories you were being magicked back here against your will.”"I've been..." Saphie clears her throat. "The last few months have been somewhat eventful. My brother had me - he didn't want me in Imgart after the invasion, and he sent for me to come home. I didn't want to leave Tarin, but he, um..." Saphie trails off, takes a couple of breaths, and regains her composure. "He hired some mercenaries to have me removed. They overpowered me..." She pauses. "...and, so here I am."“Overpowered!!”  The seat groans and the window panes sing and shiver as the heavy knight, barely seated, leaps to his feet again.  “Overpowered you!  You mean – Do you mean –?”  He casts around, fails, glowers down at her.  “Saphanie, you must tell me, very carefully now.  Are you free to come and go as you please?  Has anyone, and I mean anyone made attempts on your honour?”  "Oh!" Saphie's colour rises a little as she realizes the impression she's given. "No! No, Helm, it was nothing like that." She takes a deep breath. "I didn't see them coming. I was packing, and somebody came into my chambers unannounced. I tried to defend myself, but they grabbed me, bound my hands and mouth, and brought me home." She lowers her head, twisting her fingers in her lap.Helm blinks, and blinks again, completely at a loss for a moment. Then a rumble rises deep in his chest - and explodes in a roaring fit of laughter. “Grabbed you? Oh, oh, oh – grabbed you! “Remember - remember that Midrentide Dance two years ago? When Carl had drunk more than his fill as usual, and – and – And you -.” Choking with laughter, he spreads all ten fingers out in front of him in an inept but vaguely recognisable imitation of burning hands.  “To this day he will swear every - oath that you - turned into a writhing demon and breathed Hel’s own fire on him. I don’t think there was a man in Justiminium who’d care to try and grab you against your will. In fact, Tarin used to say –” The memory sobers him. “Pardon, Cousin. “I should have remembered you were well able to care of yourself. In fact, I mean to ask your opinion. That group of assorted heroes your brother has collected. What can you tell me about them?”Saphie laughs with Helm at memories of social occasions past, but like him, sobers when Tarin is mentioned. "Heroes," she says contemplatively. "Well, let's see. There's Leo, who's a high up in the White Way and the most paranoid man in a thousand-mile radius. His companion Tarquin, a kind man and most devout priest of Urnus Gregaria. Then there's Sigurd... whom you no doubt know of, Cousin. There's Xiang. He's a cavalier by training, I believe... a very serious man, quiet, but stronger in battle than you would imagine by looking at him. And we've recently acquired a new compatriot, a wizard from the dwarven citadel. I regret I've forgotten his name..." She pauses. "And myself, of course."“Tarkane’s new minion king.”  Helm’s gaze wanders out of the window in deep thought.  “Yet, he must be a man of both strength and courage.  You can fault the Jarls for many things, but not for placing their vote on a coward.  I wonder how far he can be trusted …”  … And so amidst talk of past glory and current local and not-so-local politics, old friendship overcomes the obstacles of long separation and recent embarrassment;  and an agreeable hour passes until (discreetly well-timed) the dinner bell rings.</blockquote>

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