Scene Listing || Scene Schedule || Scene Schedule RSS
Owner Pose
Eryl Fairfax     In a hospital, in a Commonwealth world, there is a room. It is occupied, but no patient name is on the door. It is well away from any bathrooms or vending machines, meaning there is little foot traffic around it. The door is slightly ajar at the moment as the nurse tends to the occupant. Taking vitals, swapping out IV drips, that sort of thing.

    "All done sir. Is there anything else I can get you?" she asks. The patient replies in a horse voice, "Not today Amalie. Thank you." The professional bustles out, pushing a trolley through the door ahead of herself. For a long moment, it's left wide open, offering a glimpse at the drawn curtains and the solitary bed within, but Amalie closes it behind her, bearing more gossip about the room's inhabitant that she will swear her friends and colleagues to silence before sharing. They will do the same to their friends, and so word will spread.

    Eryl Fairfax recuperates in that room. He lies there in the dim light, eyes fixed on the ceiling above him. Both his legs and one of his arms are missing, and the right arm he does have is on loan, something to allow him to manipulate the bed's elevation and call for the nurse should he need it. Much of his head and one of his eyes is hidden behind bandages.

    He just lays there quietly, no doubt wrapped up in the data stream his implants give him.
Priscilla     Given that the one of the most impervious defenses, even still in the Multiverse, is to simply hide in plain sight amongst the sprawling masses of unremarkable nobodies, there's no likelihood that any amount of serious string pulling would track down the Grandmaster of the Paladins without being noticed at some point. Furthermore, there's no way that someone outside the Paladins or Commonwealth leadership would be admitted without layers and layers of security being activated in the process, even if they somehow were convincing enough to be let in.

    It's a good thing, then, that his hospital visit is just between two people.

    It's not until the nurse is well out of the hall, vacant without any particular reason for someone to be in this uninteresting part of the building, that the familiar soft, stilted voice speaks up from somewhere beyond the foot of the bed. Quite probably one of the empty chairs left angled away from the corner, for patient family visits.

    "I wouldst offer mine apologies, but I doubt thou wouldst need them. We both kneweth well enough what the possible results of such an undertaking wouldst be. Instead, I am simply gladdened to see thou art in . . ."

    "I had intended to say 'a single piece', but . . ."
Eryl Fairfax     Eryl laughs at the hanging implicating, before letting out a sequence of dry coughs. "Please, no jokes," he gasps. "My throat and lungs were scorched by the smoke." He grasps at the remote for his bed and raises the backrest so he's sitting upright. He looks to the chair, and does his best to meet the eyes of whomever is sitting there.

    "You are correct," Eryl says to the empty gap in the air. "Retaliation was always in the cards. I felt the best outcome outweighed the risks. Sadly, things did not go that way. But I'll not hear any apologies from you. I was the one rolling the dice with people's lives." He reaches out for a styrofoam cup by his bed and sips from its contents.

    "That Big Boss is not a man to be trifled with. Should your paths ever cross, take care. As a fighter, he was my better. As a leader... he is the sort who unites people under himself. Not under a broad ideal, but under his own convictions. Like the head of a cult. The most dangerous kind of man."
Priscilla     When Eryl sits up and looks around the room, though nowhere to be seen the first time, by the second scan, Priscilla is in the chair. Only then does she offer a weak attempt at a smile --not insincere, but a little forlorn. "Now, then, thou hast mine apologies. I shalt refrain from humour until thou art feeling like thineself again."

    Her eyes slowly track to the ceiling from there, staring distantly, unblinkingly, into the light, pupils narrowing in that weird, inhuman way without squinting. "That is what all leadership is, I wouldst think." she says. "Whence other depend upon thee for much at all, thou art inevitably responsible for their lives, and there is nothing without chance to it in this world. I am, obviously, saddened to hear of the loss, but I believeth it was worth the attempt. Were I in thine own position, I wouldst likely hath done the same. I am not certain whether I wouldst feel lesser regret, or greater."

    Her fingers reach up to the collar of her dress, and tug it just enough to reveal the bandages wrapped over her shoulder, obviously conjoining with several more bands horizontally beneath. Being clean and white, it's clear enough that they serve mostly a hygeinic purpose now, her own injuries being a couple of weeks ago now, but it can't be missed that all the compression is where someone's heart and lungs should be.

    "Almost laughable that we wouldst both be here, together at the same time, both wounded by the same group of radical absurdities." she says. "Though I believeth we both read well enough the writing upon the walls in the latter days of the Union. That those people exist, and draw agreement to their methods, shouldst perhaps be no surprise. A cult is a well chosen comparison, perhaps as well. Whence thou taketh up such a cause, thou or I, inevitably those who live for aimless strife shalt rise up against it."

    It doesn't sound like she's referring to Big Boss in particular. Not exclusively him, at least. She looks back down. "Mayhaps thou hath built up rust, without time in the field." The following blink is probably a realization that she had almost made a literalist pun.
Eryl Fairfax     "The Ad Coelum was a symbol, more than anything," Eryl says. He drums his fingers on the bed as he too looks to the light. "The onboard facilities were nice, but its true value lay in its visibility. 'We are here,' 'We will help you.' That is what it communicated to any who looked to the sky. But a symbol is communication. It takes someone to enforce the meaning, and another to comprehend the meaning. For that reason, each life lost is a greater tragedy than the loss of the ship. It means one less person on the former side."

    He grimaces as he looks upon the clean bandages Priscilla shows him. "A cornered rat is most dangerous. I've never known you to take damage so grievous that it would require such care." He can only offer a nod to the queen's next words, his face showing true disgust. "Big Boss wants a world at war, because he believes that soldiers can never truly leave the battlefield. He is a madman who has mistaken his trauma for the way of things. With the likes of him leading the Watch, such people will rally under his banner. Those who hurt, and seek to hurt others instead of healing."

    That hand curls into a fist with such intensity that the plastics begin to creak under the strain. It's almost a relief when Priscilla gives him something else to dwell upon. "Rust? Perhaps that is a part of it..." He laughs again, but more at himself than anything else. "I was never a warrior Priscilla. On my home world, all I had to deal with was wild animals and starving humans. Both of whom were easily dominated by my augments. But in comparison to what you can find in the Multiverse, my true nature is revealed; a cobbled-together prototype for a program rendered unnecessary by Multiversal aid."

    He doesn't sound, or even look particularly upset by this. He lifts his bedsheets and looks down at himself for a moment before looking to Priscilla again. "In all honesty, I feared that sting of failure once I took this position. Never have I had to be a leader in a capacity like this. Guiding a settlement to self-sufficiency is easy. Wrangling a group of egotists and neurotics who can't see eye to eye is a nightmare. I worried that I wouldn't be up to snuff in the field."

    Another laugh, this one only a touch more bitter. "But now it's happened. I've proven myself fallible, and shattered the pillar I placed myself upon. Hopefully, it will be easier from here." He goes quiet for a time, looking at the window like he wished he was allowed to open it. "How do you do it Priscilla? Going from a forgotten person in a frozen world to a queen to the First, all with grace and aplomb. What's your secret?"
Priscilla     Unusually --irrationally calm for so apparently believing in the same thing, Priscilla replies to Eryl with a voice so distant that it barely exists at all.

    "Those who seeketh to hurt others hath rallied there, and shalt always rally there, for one reason or another. If it is lead by the wicked, those who seeketh to hurt others shalt rally there for wicked reasons. If it is lead by the righteous, those who seeketh to hurt others thinking their reasons righteous shalt rally there as well. It is the nature of people such as those --who see no alternative to anything, but to strike at whatever they cannot comprehend or which they cannot accept."

    Her lips twitch ever so faintly when he comments on her dressings, but too subtly to tell whether towards a smile of chagrin or a frown. "If thou were not sworn off humour for the time being, I wouldst sayeth 'thou shouldst see the other man'. Indeed, I was perhaps more reckless than I need hath been, but . . ."

    "Sometimes, thou shouldst not remaineth calm. There art places and times where it is right to act on feeling alone."

    "At least, what thine organization necessitates not a warrior king as its head, but I certainly remember thou being far from weak, in the days whence we wouldst fight together. I believeth thou art capable of better, and more than capable of growing still. I doubt thou shalt find that growth behind a desk, however. It is something I must remind mineself of, from time to time. It is easy to becometh . . . distracted, with matters which maketh thee feel so very small."

    Finally, she goes silent for quite a while when Eryl asks his last question. A long pause in perfect quiet, to martial the thoughts she isn't fully sure will even come. Slowly, she resumes speaking, in bits and pieces, choosing her words bit by bit rather than going back or repeating herself.

    "It is not the role itself which is a challenge. Indeed, taking the crown of Anor Londo was far more difficult an experience. The Concord is . . . familiar by comparison. Not a nation, or a cause, or a symbol --not in its entirety. Something that brings together so many with their own causes --their own wishes seeking to be granted by someone, anyone-- yes, but . . ."

    "What is different is only its sheer size. The vastness of the Multiverse, alone. In truth, it is not entirely unlike those years so many centuries ago. A lady of a place of mine own. A place special and apart from everything else. One that those who ill fit anywhere else eventually doth find their way to. Almost . . . familial, in its solidarity. Where those whose wishes couldst not be granted, nor accepted, by the vast, outside masses, and the harshness of reality, may find at last somewhere they belongeth."

    "No, perhaps the greatest difference is not its size, but that now I hath the power to grant those wishes. An opportunity at last to do more than simply provideth belonging."
Eryl Fairfax     "I don't want to believe that the violent are condemned to resorting only to violence. I said as much to Big Boss. Well..." Another laugh. For a man sworn off humour, he's been doing a lot of that. "More that I screamed it at him. I did, in fact, lose my calm. For all the good it did me." He manages a wry smile as Priscilla dances around making a joke, but coughs before any laugh can come out.

    He's silent for a moment, his eyes closed. Just long enough to make one wonder if he hadn't passed out, but then they snap open again. "I'm going over footage of my battles, and I'm struggling to see what you are seeing. But we are ever our own worst judges. I'll take your word for it." He looks ruefully at his arm and mutters to himself, "Maybe some upgrades are in order..."

    Priscilla gives an answer. It's a good one. She has made the Concord alike to the Painted World, but an idealized version. Unfortunately, it is an answer that is of no help to the Grandmaster. "You made the Concord your home. That does make sense." He looks to the curtained window again. "Home... that's a foreign concept to me. I've ever been on a journey. What would my 'home' even look like?..."

    He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. "Bah, I am making for poor company today. You came all this way, injured. You deserve better than this." He offers a smile that looks all but indistinguishable from a real one. "My apologies."
Priscilla     "Not so injured that it was too particularly troublesome." Priscilla reassures Eryl. "I hath had time enough. Asides, as we both know, the Great Lord Gwyn held and war and battle strongly in his domain. Returning home blood-soaked and victorious is a means in of itself to bolster the people's faith." she says.

    "Though, that is perfectly well." she muses, faintly, to Eryl's opinion of the Paladins. "If thou art not familiar with 'home', then maketh the Paladins thine 'journey'. Thou hast already learned what cometh of bending so easily to the pressures and desires of others, yes? Thou art the Grandmaster --maketh of that covenant what suits thee best. Then, naturally, thou shouldst be suited to lead it best, correct? I cannot imagine such a pursuit of justice to be stationary. It is something those who carry it bringeth with them, not a place to returneth to."

    "Even though we hath different visions of what is most important in this Multiverse, I cannot sayeth what thou art attempting to do is wrong. Rather, it is a cause that I believeth someone somewhere wouldst hath to taketh up. The Watch is an unfortunate inevitability, but the Paladins is a necessary one. Were it not for the Concord, I may hath aided thee with it, even if for lack of much else of worth."

    Priscilla pauses awkwardly, then breathes out in a way almost like a laugh. "Well, I believeth I attempted to just recently, so perhaps I am not so well suited to it. Regardless, this is the right time to hath these thoughts. Indeed, it is only poor leaders who thinketh not these things at times like this, instead fixated upon 'how they lost', and whomever is to blame, setting themselves solely to how not to fail again."

    "Though, certainly, I encourage thee to push thineself further. Next time, I wouldst like thee to soundly defeat that man."
Eryl Fairfax     "Make it the journey..." Eryl says, rubbing his chin. "Well, we certainly have an uphill climb from here. Creating a new base, winning back the public's trust, winning back the Commonwealth's trust..." He's smiling now, and it's for real. Ever has he been a man who works at his best when he as a roadmap ahead of him. "You're right. I have been put in charge. I should mould the Paladins to my vision, not bend myself to fit it."

    Priscilla speaks of what could have been, and Eryl looks conflicted. "As much as I would love to have you as my full ally once more... I know you would chafe within the Paladins. Lordran is not a realm that gels with the Commonwealth. I'd hate to see you smother yourself just to fit in, or to ally yourself with me. As much as I disagree with the Concord's stated goals, they have facilitated your full actualisation. For that alone, it is a worthy place. And for every time it's vision aligns with the best outcome for all, it serves its purpose."

    He can't help but laugh again as he receives praise for the way he's handling the sound defeat. "Oh, I felt that there was enough of that attitude going around without me adding to it." He laughs, and for once, it's not marred by a cough. "But, I shall. He is an accomplished fighter, but I must best him if I am to prove him wrong. He'll never listen to me otherwise."
Priscilla     Finally, Priscilla smiles openly --or at least openly enough to be caught doing it. "Thou art correct, of course. Though even I cannot say that I approveth of everything that goes on within the Concord, nor feel particularly well towards everything that every one of them may wish for, but one doth not always see eye to eye with family; one need most importantly accept that thou art alike in enough ways that it is best for all of thee to see to one another's happiness. Even the Union was seldom but an engine of misery and strife, in the end."

    "Though, I am gladdened to hath met good men there. Sir Hall shouldst be receiving his yearly compensation now. I hear that he hast taken up some sort of new archiving venture, in his retirement from war-work."

    Moving on gracefully, she continues "I am gladdened as well to see that thou art still the level and optimistic thinker, even without thine arms and legs. I sincerely hope such advice serves thee well. Taketh thine knights along with thee on thine newest journey, across a globe far larger than thine own, to restore a world far more jumbled and broken. They shalt follow thee; even if thou hath not the strength alone to defeat every obstacle in thine way, thou were always best served by moving forward."

    "Though, I wouldst not personally hold particularly high hopes for holding mutual dialogue with that man, in specific."
Eryl Fairfax     "Family... no, I don't think the Paladins are suited for that. 'Compatriots,' perhaps." Setting that thought aside, Eryl grimaces at the mention of the Union. "It was a fascinating organisation at first. But I soon realised it was akin to a bloated corpse, and stank just as bad." He then makes a shushing motion with his hand. "Don't let the reporters hear that though. It must always and forever be the noble precursor to the Paladins... I do miss Nathan though. I'd have appreciated his counsel."

    A new journey. He already looks more hale at the thought of it. "I'll probably have to talk a few of them around. Those who want immediate retaliation, those whose confidence was rattled. But that's what I'm best at. Our armor may be tarnished, but that only means it's seen wear and use. Our mission is not a clean or glamorous one, it's only natural."

    He then grins as Priscilla expresses her doubt that Big Boss would speak with him. "You just praised me for my optimistic thinking. I'm getting mixed signals here Priscilla."
Priscilla     "No, they art not." Priscilla agrees. "The Paladins art not those who believeth in 'thee' as much as they art those who believeth in what thou uphold. Though thou shouldst cherish them, they art there to follow thee, and spread good deeds in thine name, as the knights thouse hast patterned them after." She waves, vaguely. "I hath little love of reporters, and less desire to speaketh to them."

    "There shalt always be those who demand blood for blood in any and all scenarios. Those with fragile honour and shaken masculinity, most oft. Who hysterically detest being seen 'defeated', even by proxy, even for a moment, and who wish to striketh back with all possible haste to proveth their manhood. I am certain thou art aware that those men art the most important to deny. The ones who must be broken back into line, most usually. Thine is not a path of vengeance nor conquest nor idolized strength, and thine honour stems from elsewhere but simple power."

    "Asides, maintaining a desire for better things hath rarely harmed anyone more than the alternative. Simply because I hath little faith in that man's sanity, it is not as if I cannot appreciate thine own wishes for the best. Someone must try, after all, rather than nobly and magnanimously resign themselves to the gratification of justified killing."
Eryl Fairfax     "There are only so many times I can say 'you're right' in one conversation, plea-" Eryl is cut off by a knock at the door, before Nurse Amalie pokes her head in. "Sir? I don't recall you having any guests scheduled, but visiting hours are over." Eryl looks to the chair that is (hopefully) seemingly vacant before shaking his head. "Oh, no visitors no. Just... talking to myself I suppose. My apologies for the bother."

    The nurse nods and leaves, shutting the door behind her. "Well, you heard her," Eryl says, now in a whisper. "Thank you for coming today. I'm feeling invigorated for the first time in a while thanks to your counsel."
Priscilla     The nurse walks into a room that is empty, save for Eryl.

    Genuinely empty, though it defies common sense. There is, however, under the bedside accoutrements, a proper card, hand written in Lordran's insanely baroque high ancient script, and left with a cheap, small capacity 'portable hole' with mini bottle of good stuff that Eryl probably isn't technically supposed to have and a slab of chocolate, no doubt picked up top shelf at what would normally be great expense.

    Kind of cheeky. She'd have to have snuck that there before sitting down at all.