RP:A Dolos for Every Druantia

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

Summary: Penelope remains behind after the inaugural Warrior's Guild meeting at Vigilanti Semper in order to assist Lionel in removing a symbol of vanity in favor for a tribute to the natural world. Along the way, the healer and Imperator discuss their recent goings-on, though neither of them are willing to open up entirely. Even so, the little while they share together proves a welcome respite for them both.

Vigilanti Semper

As the crowd cleared and the chairs were emptied, Vigilanti Semper’s excellent housekeeping personnel swept the command wing’s cold, stone floors and gathered the dishes left behind by hungry, thirsty guild members. Feeling loath to just stand around and watch, Lionel assisted them with their work, stretching his tired muscles between tasks. If anyone from the guild and its allies was still in the command wing, the Imperator was far enough away from the table now that he hadn’t noticed. His thoughts were with his senior staff, all of whom had just been assigned potentially perilous missions. He knew he could count on them, one and all, but that never made ordering them around any easier. The wing was lit not just by three spread-out chandeliers but numerous candles as well, each lining the walls within nooks engraved into the stone. Diligent workers, one and all, the housekeepers set about snuffing out each and every candle, so that the chandeliers were the only source of light left in the area.

Penelope waits patiently while people disperse in order to cause the awkward social bumps of others. The two sides are clear, so she finally rises and secures her satchel around her torso. Before she has the audacity to turn and walk to follow the assembly, the commander catches her eye. The satchel that remains around her torso lifts over her head again as she leaves the bag dangling on a nearby chair. Minutes pass of just watching the Imperator assist the housekeeping personnel in his own little reverie, and then she wanders next to him before reaching out to sweep in and help with the next task he had to help the housing staff. It had been a bit since the night she told him she would find him, and well, here they were. There was a little pick up in her heartbeat when she brushes by him for the first time in that time away. “Hey,” she breathes out. “Let me help,” she would nod to him with that slight little crooked smile.

Lionel was, slowly but surely, beginning to realize that the rises in his pulse upon the sight of Penelope Halifax were – perhaps – not cause for complete alarm. “I’d like that,” he blurted out unthinkingly, “though truth be told there’s not much left to do. I’m afraid our housekeepers are much better housekeepers than I’ll ever be.” None of them even overheard him; they were already shuffling off down the long corridor connecting the command wing with the central chamber. “I guess I can think of one last task.” Lionel scurried over to the simple bronze throne situated toward the middle of the wing and abruptly began scraping the stone floor with it as he dragged the well-crafted but ultimately unnecessary chair several meters. “Would you join me on a stroll to the courtyard?” He unceremoniously tossed the throne on its side, studied it for a moment, and then turned it around such that its back was propped up against a wall but the seated portion was upright. “I don’t know where they dug this up but I definitely do not want to sit in it. Sets the wrong tone, I think.” Lionel faced Penelope again, somewhat giddily. “You can help me pick out a few plants to adorn this thing with. Then we’ll have forged the command wing’s first official… plant… holder… thing.”

Penelope smirked. “You should hold a housekeepers brunch or something. I think they’d like that,” she sort of drags out the last word in a little sing-song tone. As he goes to tug on the bronze throne, her nose kind of crinkles a little. “I suppose I can before I walk back like a lost buffoon to Kelay,” the Ardelian laughs at her own comment. When he begins to turn the chair several directions, her eyes narrow in a ‘whatareyouevendoing’ sort of way. “Yeah, it would sort of make you look like an ass now, doesn’t it?” Blunt, but well, obviously that never held her back. “Not that you are one, but… well, thrones are somewhat intimidating,” she justifies her mouth. The healer brushes her hand over one of the bronze arm rests. “I think we can make some sort of chic decoration. C’mon, let’s go.” Steps would stride towards the direction of the courtyard. “So, sorry I never… found you. I got—tied," with a man who woke up from a coma and who talks to ghosts, a ex that is out of his mind, and well, seeking out the first herb she needed. "But just know, I feel a lot better than the night you came to visit me. And well, I'll spare you the details.”

“I kind of feel like the details would be a rad inclusion,” Lionel replied just as bluntly as anything Penelope might have said. With their stride, he and the healer would soon pass through the corridor in its entirety, cut through the central chamber, and exit outside into the courtyard. Vigilanti Semper was not a particularly large keep, after all – just a strong one. The courtyard was filled with foliage, though much of it was young – buds and saplings of a dozen or more shapes and sizes. An iron gazebo, pleasantly-shaded by a high stone roof in the approximate shape of an umbrella, had been built in the middle of a bed of tulips ranging in colors from burnt orange to vivid fuchsia and a yellow brighter even than the sun. A narrow brick pathway snaked through the flowerbed. Herbs grew on evergreen wreaths strapped to the wooden pillars supporting the gazebo, and more than a few succulents – jade, echevaria, houseleek and more – filled the spaces between the pillars. There was plenty to snag here in order to spruce up the throne-turned-decor. “And you know, I know – I know it’s a long trek from here to Kelay. Too long for you to travel on your own in times like these. Not that I think you’re incapable of defending yourself,” he added, “though if I’m being honest, I do think some of your would-be attackers are that much more capable of breaking through those defenses.” Lionel examined a plant inquisitively. “Then again, Krice has been training you. Maybe Xicotl’s thralls won’t know what hit them.”

Penelope :: Air fills her cheeks at his response. “Fair point,” she sort of cants in consideration, though she does not proceed to say much until they reach the courtyard where the colors of growth would poke through all directions. Her stride takes her a few feet away from her while she observes a bushel of fuchsia tulips. A hand would tuck a few strands behind her ear while she hears him out and points out her… nonexistent training. “Right, about that. Not training anymore. Kind of burnt that bridge with the whole ‘emotional’,” she puts her fingers up in air quotes. “Spiral I’ve been on.” The woman gives him a grin that really had no life in it before it appears into a flat line. “But besides that point, I am –fine- trekking here. Really. You don’t need to worry about it.” Pause. “But, if you need details, I’ve been kind of busy figuring the whole herb situation out. A local herbalist, Callum, was able to supply me with the yarrow I needed.” Her hand then moves the succulents. This would be warrior-like, right? “Then, Lanara’s friend Kyori woke up from a coma after like three months, so I had to get him back on his feet.” She best not mention the creepy ghost part, but only for Kyori’s sanity. “And well, I got tied up with… Linken’s son, too.” That was a strange detail to share. “You think succulents say ‘argh, I’m a warrior’?” She tries to play off her words. Wow, she was really bad with talking with this man.

It was becoming customary for Lionel to focus on someone’s final words first while mentally anguishing over how to respond to what came beforehand. Here in the burgeoning grove at the exact center of Vigilanti Semper, and given the weight of Penelope’s words, he decided that now more than ever it was a sloppy social skill worth capitalizing upon. “I’m not sure anyone who’s ever told me ‘argh, I’m a warrior’ has lived up to that claim,” Lionel toyed with her. “Though I do think these are pretty?” He shrugged. “Toss a few of these whatever-they-ares” – he pointed at the tulips – “into these whatevers” – he pointed at the succulents – “and their combined form will be at once breathtaking and bold.” It wasn’t clear what Lionel meant by this, and he wasn’t quite certain himself, but he said it with enough gusto to perhaps convince them both. “I recall a bit about a comatose Kyori. Glad he’s awake – it’s generally good for comatose sorts to awaken. Unless they’re Dark Immortals. Though they’re all dead now. Really, what was it with mythical heroes and sealing away great evils rather than just beheading them a hundred times until they got the message and died?” He sighed. “Children are a tough crowd. But I bet you’re acing whatever trials and tribulations that Linken fellow’s kid is thrusting upon you. I usually just give them money and tell them to look both ways before crossing. Meanwhile, you have a way with words.” Lionel tugged a few tulip stems between his fingers almost daintily and then yanked a stonecrop free from its wreath with his other hand. “Krice can seem cold sometimes but I bet he still cares about you. Whatever burnt down that bridge, nothing short of Hellfire could break that man’s protective aura – and Hellfire’s in a million little pieces now, several of which Rorin carries around like action figures.”

Penelope smirks at the playful banter. “They’re tulips, by the way. This is their favorite time of year, actually.” The woman plucks a little bushel of fuchsia tulips before halting at the succulents. Burro’s tail would do nicely, and she could make the plant snake along the backside of the chair. She pulls a few of the tails before beginning to weave them together to make a longer tail while balancing the tulips. As he talks about Dark Immortals, she gives him a strange look before moving on. Would she bring up the fact that Aeric came by her home to ask her to bring Linken out of the temple the entity was sealed out of? (pfft, naah) “I think you overestimate my tongue. After all, you only see blips. You’d be surprised that I don’t please quite a bit of people. Money sounds like the easier way to me. Maybe I should take –your- strategy.” As for the man with the katana, she would shrug. “I know, but I think I need to build that relationship back up again before I even attempt it. Can’t build a bridge if there is barely even a platform. Besides, he was not the cold one.” The woman would slip past him. “Enough about me, though. What about you?”

Lionel pondered Penelope’s meaning as he led the way back toward the fort’s interior. Krice wasn’t the cold one? It surprised him, but he trusted her enough to buy into it nonetheless. “Well,” he said after a verbal stumble, “you just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help patch things up between you. You’re both invaluable allies and friends. I’d even kiss either of you, I reckon, though I would need to be considerably inebriated before I made a pass at our neighborhood friendly silver-haired katana-man.” Semper’s central chamber was even quieter now than it was before, with soldiers and recruits heading down to the living wing for food and drink and slumber. Only a pair of guards at the entrance remained, and they nodded cordially to Lionel and Penelope before returning to an argument over whether or not it was true that the razurath ate their own. “It doesn’t matter,” one of them aptly noted, “because they’re all dead now anyway.” Lionel winced as he and the healer made their way back down the corridor to the command wing. “Charming,” he muttered. “I think this place might benefit from a dartboard or two. Anyway, me? Hmm, I’m not sure. I feel a heavy burden, sending y’all off on various desperate missions and all. I feel glum just sending you anywhere to begin with. You have enough on your plate without adding a seaside voyage to it.”

Penelope :: The physician could not help but let out a gentle laugh with the very faint color of rose swarming her olive cheeks. “Tell me how Talyara feels about you kissing her man. But, really, it’s okay, I can fight my own battles. And it’s not really a battle per-say. Just awkward silence after I apologized.” And the conversation was done. They walk into the silent chamber and Penelope gives a nod in return to the guards who banter about razuraths. “You certainly live in a different environment,” she makes note aloud. The Ardelian attempts to halt Lionel as he begins talking about the burden he feels. “Hey,” a hand reaches for his arm. Just in order for him to face her. “Glum is not the word you should be feeling. You need me, and I’m my own person. And that person could have said no. But I didn’t, so there’s the difference. Besides, you and I both know all those people who have joined this,” she looks around the Semper. “Party like the feeling of glory and putting their life on the line to help the people who need it—or whatever,” she shakes her head. “Including me. I think it’s pretty obvious that I would do very ridiculous things for you. Why do you think I’m here if it wasn’t for… well, you?” There was a beat. “Well, and the people of Lithrydel, but c’mon,” she added.

Lionel hadn’t factored Talyara into the equation. That was a good point, and a fine point to end things on before forgetting that he had ever said anything. The quizzical expression he made afterward was telling; it was the silent stifling of a smirk concealed. “I do need you,” Lionel conceded, stopping briefly in his tracks when Penelope tugged his arm. Already quiet, the corridor seemed absolutely silent in that spectral second. Then he was walking again, as quickly as he’d stopped, though his eyes did remain trained on hers as she spoke. “I think it’d be cheesy in a right proper sort of way to tell you in return that I’m here because of you,” he thought aloud, thumb to his chin even though his tulips were still stuck between his fingers. The flowers covered his face momentarily. They reached the upturned throne now, and he began assembling their decoration as Penelope had described. Before long, their work was done, and what was once a symbol of vanity had morphed into a small, ultimately insignificant, yet nevertheless appreciable tribute to nature’s blessings. “But then I’d have a tough time explaining why I built you a military fortress at the bottom of a canyon in the middle of nowhere and routinely ask you to risk your life for my cause.” He chuckled dryly. “It’s a good thing we’d never lie to each other, because I’d be pretty damned bad at trying.” Lionel had no idea he might have struck a nerve.

Penelope finds herself picking up her steps again before she places the burro’s tail on the backside of the throne like a spiral. In various places, she would stick the fuchsia tulips to give a pop of color against the green. She remains quiet from his comment before until after she sets the plants in place. “I think if I hear that line from you again, I might just keel over myself.” The woman would nod with firmness, but her Ardelian tone is gentle. It was the denial, really. The healer is silent again as she stares at the decorated chair rather than his face. “A military fortress,” her moss gaze finally falls on him. “That sounds like such an ‘official’ term. Military. To be in a military.” She plays with the word on her tongue. It had a little ring to it. As he talks about lying, her eyes sort of look over him. Lying? No. Holding info back for his own personal sanity? Well, that was something they were going to have to work on, if well, if the two of them would become a pair. “That makes the both of us.”

Lionel laughed. ‘Military’ sounded overly officious even for him, but gone were the days he was a rogue in the wilderness, picking fights to protect the realm wherever he traipsed. He had learned to accept that, just as he was learning to open himself up more to Penelope Halifax. Like it or not, a military was what he led now – a paramilitary organization unbeholden to any country or creed. Dozens of men and women served under his command, and the weight of it somehow dwarfed his affiliation with Frostmaw just thinking about it. He was grateful that the woman stood beside him tonight, not because she was part of that organization but because she wanted to be here, sprucing up a chair with him in the waning hours. Yet there was still so much he couldn’t say. Were they lies? No. He held the words back for Penelope’s own personal sanity. Well, that was something they were going to have to work on, if indeed the two of the were to become a pair. “I think it looks good,” Lionel declared. He gestured to the display they’d made, unaware at the time that he wasn’t the only one pausing a far more difficult mental state in favor of a challenging effort to breathe.