ataraxionlogs | One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard

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One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard

CHARACTERS: Arthur Pendragon & You
LOCATION: Oxygen Gardens - a clearing somewhere
WARNINGS: None. Arthur might be moping on the inside, but he generally be good company. Unless you're Merlin.
SUMMARY: Arthur's trying not to think too much about Morgana being gone, it's time to wander about the gardens on his horse and wave a sword at thin air. All welcome! New CR & canonmates alike.
NOTES: Slow-times, slow tags as always. Late tags a-okay!

[It was a great relief to have woken free of the ailments that made the world spin, his head to ring and feel as if it would split and all of it together that made his stomach pitch and roll, it was a relief that he could leave his room. The jump had left them without Morgana, such news difficult to bear. Not just because he would miss Morgana terribly, he had missed Morgana for some years now even in Camelot, at least the Morgana he had grown up with; compassionate, kind, but so strong-willed. To see her as he had remembered her not only added to what was impossible, but no less than a blessing of this strange world, most of all it meant that he could have protected her. Kept her from the corruption of magic, Morgause and all that had influenced her turn toward darkness.

Perhaps the true sting really, was that it was an impossible decision between Morgana being here, where the ship seemed constantly to put their lives in danger, and now had brought illness upon them - or for her to return to a world where her fate was chosen. It was not just him left heartsick with the news, Guinevere too had lost someone she loved dearly, and Merlin, like he knew to some extent what had become of Morgana in Camelot. He did not wish to burden them.

Arthur hadn't told anyone where he was headed, he hadn't even asked Merlin to groom and tack up his horse for him. Yes, Arthur was capable of plenty of things on his own. He'd made a slow trek through as so much of it was dense area, Llamrei picked his way through at an amble through the trees, not flinching for a moment. Arthur couldn't help but wish if only there were game, to distract himself with a hunt was often one of his favourite retreats. The clearing they came upon was not deep within the gardens, but it was covered in soft grass and parted by a branch of the stream running through. Arthur dismounted but did not tie the horse up, allowing him to gaze on the only slightly overgrown grass, of course Llamrei took to it with great enthusiasm, tearing up quick mouthfuls with a snort of what his master took as gratitude. Arthur looped the reins over Llamrei's head and draped them on the saddle, before giving him a pat on the shoulder.

He drew his sword from its fastenings upon the saddle and simply went through the motions of his training regime. Simple perhaps, and without a partner or even the Pell - it was distraction all the same.]

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[Of all the places on this ship, the garden was the one she felt most comfortable with. It wasn't the forests behind District 12, wasn't the terrain she was used to. But it was green. A place she could go and close her eyes and pretend, just for a moment, that she wasn't trapped here. That she hadn't awoken in a pod to find herself trapped in another game.

Peeta was here. And Haymitch, Effie, and Johanna - even if she had yet to run in to the latter two. Even that damned cat, Buttercup, had somehow found his way on to the Tranquility. It made life a little better. But not much. Not much at all. Not when she opted instead to stay mostly to herself. To trust no one that she didn't already know. And spend most of her time either in her room or within the gardens.

Normally, if she heard another approach, she'd disappear deeper into the woods even though she never went anywhere unarmed. It had been a relief to find the silver bow and quiver from the 74th Games in her locker. Today, especially, she found herself grateful. The sound of a horse had startled her at first, but not enough to slink away entirely into the bushes. Instead, she notched an arrow in her bow and walked closer to get a better look.]

[Over time, Arthur's developed a sense of caution (granted he doesn't always follow it, or rather he doesn't let it stop him from anything that he's set on doing) he rarely would he venture into the woods without his senses at their sharpest. Perhaps it is due to this world that his senses have dulled, or perhaps it is simply the fact he's aware there are no bandits, nor any blood-thirsty creatures lurking since he arrived here, Griffons or wolves alike. He need not be alert, and he has grown perhaps a little lax in his former ways.

So it is Llamrei's interest that draws Arthur's in turn, the steed's ears turning about to movement, only for his head to follow to the approach of another, Arthur then paused to look too, finding a young woman moving to them, her bow was not aimed, but drawn all the same.]

I'm afraid you'll find no game in these forests, miss. [He greeted her kindly, certainly with a polite, courtly air - however his tone was one that suggested he was giving her the benefit of the doubt, where he assumed she had her bow prepared as she intended to hunt, and that her quarry wasn't his horse.]

[She eyes the boy warily, glancing from him to the horse and back. It shouldn't be much of a surprise that the horse has a rider. But it's disappointing. It's not a wild creature, not something that can be hunted. Nor is it a sign that there are other animals in these gardens. It's one thing to suspect and another thing to have it confirmed all together. It doesn't matter that there seems to be food on the ship provided to them all. She doesn't like the idea of being dependent on others. Not this much.

In a way, it's like being back in District 13. She's not mentally disoriented this time but she feels like she might as well be. Nothing to hunt. The horse belongs to that boy. Disappointment blooms but she does her best to hide it. To fall back on other instincts. The boy is a stranger. And therefore, the arrow remains out.]

There's a horse.

[To say she is guarded is quite the understatement, it could, by some be mistaken for rudeness, and if it were, they'd have to be mad to miss the weapon. He has behaved in much the same in meeting strangers within Camelot's woods. It is more intimidation he supposes than true hostility, yet he cannot be entirely sure. Even so, Arthur's demeanor does not change, but he is now certain to keep his focus on her entirely and not to let it drift. He takes Llamrei's reins almost without thinking, thought perhaps it displays further his possession.]

Indeed. My horse. [He took a measured breath to punctuate his words.] My horse is not game and you'll find little else but your fellow passengers amongst these trees. So, really you've no need to draw your bow. [Arthur's tone does not threaten, nor does his manner attempt to intimidate. His still rather calm way is more it is a measure to simply dismiss her words, placate with a faint sort of haughtiness that believes she isn't truly out to threaten anyone.]

I'm Arthur. [It a gesture of moving on, of introductions can move one past these matters.]

[She looks at him with obvious disdain when he mentions that there's no need to draw her bow. However calm he speaks it, she can't help but disagree. That's not how it is. She doesn't know any of these people. Doesn't know where they come from or what they have planned. She still hasn't even figured out all the rules of this game. Though Peeta's told her killing is not a part of it, she can't quite bring herself to believe it.

Everything seems to involve death at the end. In some manner or another.]

I don't know you. [She counters, still keeping her bow steady by her side. He gave her a name. But a name doesn't mean anything. Not to her.] I don't know if I can trust you.

[It's a peaceful stand off of sorts, at least in his eyes. Arthur is going to continue to protect his horse, and even to attempt to speak with the girl if she'll stay. He doesn't know many here, but gradually he is beginning to branch out from simply staying in the company of those he knows from home. Still her body language is simple, because she means it to be so. Arthur too stands all, but he by no means projects defense.]

No. You do not, however I might assure you, you can. [Arthur is forced to agree with and he accepts this with a following nod of his head, tone almost hopeful that it might change.] There are enough aboard this ship, you'll have to make up your own mind. But I would sooner mistrust this vessel than it's passengers.

[His own wisdom of needing to find a common enemy learned from the months here, despite it sounding strange to speak of the Tranquillity as if it is capable of maliciousness.] How long have you been aboard this ship?

[He either means what he says or he's an idiot. Because while he stands near his horse, there's nothing defensive about his posture. It would be easy, she suspects, to catch him by surprise. To pull back on her bowstring and let her arrow fly. She's quick, skills from years of hunting honed in the arena. Would he be able to respond with that sword in time?

Definitely an idiot, she decides a second or two later; thought clearly projected on her face. She's never been good at hiding things. But he's right about one thing. She trusts this vessel, trusts whoever it is that brought her here, less than anyone she's met. Not that she's met many people here. But whoever their mysterious Gamemakers are, she already despises them. Has since the moment she emerged from the pod.]

Not long. Days.

[Keeping busy, that was Elizabeth had decided to do here to keep her mind from dwelling on those she missed. It was nice to have something productive to do with tending the garden, it kept her hands from being idle. Having the garden gave her something productive to focus on, knowing that she was doing something which would benefit others as well.

She had spent some time watering and tending to the plot and was now heading back with a basket when she paused at hearing the sound of a horse. She hadn't thought there were many large animals here and curiosity prompted her to venture from the path towards the clearing, adjusting her long white wrap around her shoulders. She stopped when she saw Arthur practicing, only approaching when he paused to greet him.]

Your grace, I hope I am not disturbing you.

[He finds his heart is not quite in it, truth be told. To practice is a discipline and he would at times in his youth complain at the insistence of his tutors and elder Knights that he didn't need to practice. Now he'd be quite happy to be given instruction once again, if only to find distraction]

Not at all your highness, it's a pleasure to see you once again. [His gaze drifts some, to the more tranquil surrounds.] And in rather less dangerous circumstances. [A dip of his head precedes a smile, perhaps it is a somewhat fainter smile, but a smile that is genuine all the same. With a quick movement his sword is embedded in the ground.]

You've had a productive morning in the gardens, I take it?

[He indicates her basket with a small curiosity, he hadn't paid enough attention to the gardens to notice plots at once, or perhaps he's just too distracted in coming here.]

I am glad to see you are well. [She said with a kind smile, they had gotten separated so suddenly, such was the nature of that place. It had been confusing and waking up afterward had been disorienting and unpleasant to say the least.] I hope you were not ill afterward, it was not the most pleasant of experiences but I appreciated your company nonetheless.

[It's much more peaceful out here now, almost relaxing.] A very productive morning indeed, I have begun a small herb and vegetable garden and it seems to be doing well. Hopefully we will all be able to enjoy some fresh food soon.

You too. And your daughter too, I hope? [He was left wondering where she was, and if they might reunite; he had offered his help and he hadn't helped her at all. Nor had he even managed to keep Guinevere close. But thankfully she was safe, even if she was unwell, as often as he seemed to be too.]

I apologise that I wasn't of better use in finding her. [He gives a small sigh, the entire venture was a mess, to put it lightly. It certainly ended in a mess. It takes a moment to be honest, for some reason it is a little easier in her company.] The illness hasn't abated entirely, I'm afraid. Today is an exception.

Sounds delightful- [What he says is not false, even if his tone is not quite as light as it could be. It is by no means a pastime below them, or one to be mocked as such for those who were once royalty. It sounds peaceful, calming against the violent, unpredictable nature of the ship.] I'm sure any who benefit will be most grateful for your hard work. Finding a productive means of passing the time here, isn't always quite so simple. [But he sounds pleased that she has.]

Yes, she made it out though has been ill as many have been. [The subject of her daughter is a little sore one for Elizabeth at the moment but the last thing she wants to do is burden him with what are family issues, issues she is not exactly proud of.]

It is quite alright, it was a strange situation, I am simply grateful we all have made it out now. [Elizabeth assured him with a kind smile before looking concerned.] I too have been suffering the illness, some ginger helps with the worst of it. [She suggested, modern medicine is still so foreign and not something she entirely trusts at the moment.]

You are always welcome to come help, more hands are always appreciated. [Elizabeth suggested, she was glad that at least he understood that being royal didn't mean you didn't get your hands in the dirt sometimes. Now if only her daughter could learn that lesson...] I hope to expand the garden slowly as I learn what grows best here or what others may want or need.

I'm pleased to hear it. [His smile does hold, if nothing else it seems as if most were reunited with those they were missing, but this news he had rather more a personal investment in.] I can imagine it only makes it all the more difficult to settle here with such events. [Alas, he doubts it will be the last.]

As am I. There were others lost too there, without meaning to be so. It seems unfair you should be punished with this strange illness when you made no choice to venture in. [At least so he supposes, Guinevere had no intent either to venture in, but still was brought against her will and suffers so.] Yes. Merlin too, has offered us ginger to soothe our stomachs. Some knowledge apparently gained from our court physician. [As if that is a great surprise to him. He sighs out slowly, a small breath.] Surely these symptoms can only linger for so long?

[A humble dip of his head follows, appreciative but unsure.] I'm not certain I would be of great use to you, though I appreciate such an offer. [His tone is almost an amused sort of reluctance, a faint smile rising. Whilst he might commend it, he may be more hindrance than help to the cause. He has no such skill, despite his fanciful talk of farming with Guinevere he had no delusions he would know how to work the land.] At least I can hope for you the temperature keeps as it does. I imagine it's rather more favourable for your plot? [Oh he knows so little of how ..to grow things.]

Edited 2014-04-03 12:59 (UTC)

It is not fair to any of us. I only hope we are able to recover soon and put it behind us. [Elizabeth remarked with concern.] I pray they will let up soon for all of us, it makes life rather more difficult when we must worry about being ill at the worst moments. [Especially if something like that comes up, how could she defend Lizzie if she could barely stand at times?

It's not a comforting though and something she doesn't want to dwell on too much.]

It is a good way to clear one's head at times and there is no difficulty. [She assured him. Her talents are certainly not in growing vegetables, she had simply had to learn growing up about practical matters but being out in a garden was relaxing for her nonetheless.] As do I, it is perfect. I am even attempting to grow a pair of rose bushes in the garden, to see how they fare in the warm weather.

Yes. We may hope. [Arthur has a feeling otherwise, as he suspects most of those suffering do too. Once the illness of the jump fades, the coming and going of the symptoms at least mean they are not all incapacitated at the one time.] I can only stress all the more that you may let me know, if you have need of anything. [A offer simply given, because he's most earnest in what he says.]

The exact reason I miss the hunt. I found it to clear the head. [Arthur readily admits, even if it cannot be appreciated by all, or even enjoyed.] But as we are in short supply of boar, deer or ..any quarry perhaps I should take you up on it after all. [There is a faint curve of his lips, amusement but some truth behind his words.]

Roses? [Arthur is not exactly the sort to be enamored of flowers, but he knows someone he might like to bestow them upon. Not that he would simply take them either, but perhaps he might ask for one.] Surely they will be most appreciated by many of the ladies aboard the ship. If they are successful, it will be some time before they flower I take it?

I shall, such an offer could never be forgotten. [Elizabeth says sincerely. Even just such an offer meant everything for her, it meant even if they were on their own, they were not alone.]

It's a way to keep one's hands occupied during the day. [Elizabeth can understand that truth, she gives a light laugh, nodding.] If I see any though, I will let you know.

[She nodded with a smile, she wouldn't giving them out when or if they bloomed. The colors, white and red roses, are significant and it didn't seem right, in some way, to plant one without the other] Two bushes, white and red roses. I hope they bloom then as well, they will bring some color for everyone here. It will be some time before they are ready to be picked though.

[An early arrival, Éowyn was still too far from accustomed to such a place. She sought the peace and quiet of the gardens, where she was spending her nights just as well, upon having requested the Elvenking Thranduil to stay there. It was hardly familiar but at least there was no strange clanking of metal, no dark and cold surfaces to the touch. Around her nature grew, despite the space around being designed for it, she was sure. It was the closest to anything she knew back home, for everywhere else was far too foreign, and all the more intimidating than she would care to admit.

She too looked for a moment to practice with her sword. So far no dangers had presented themselves to her, not ones she could tackle with such a weapon, but she would not let the blade dull from lack of use, for she knew not until when such safety would continue. Should she have to use it one day, she would not be caught unprepared.

It was perhaps strange a sight, a maiden in a simple dress, with a sheathed sword fastened to her belt, but she had not found in her locker anything more practical, and certainly she would not wear the strange black garment that seemed far too tight to her figure. She was drawn by the sounds, soft as they were, and tentatively rounded a tree to find the man practicing. She stood upright, yet watched him quietly as she stepped around, until she was in his line of sight.]

[Arthur isn't easily startled, normally so anyway. His attention on a hair-trigger when he's moving through the forest, or locations that were known often to suffer raids often. It's in the oxygen garden's he's grown perhaps his most relaxed. It's the corridors that a strange anxiety creeps in, the feeling he's being followed, shadows that he has caught sight of and could've sworn were real people. One reason among many he comes here, enjoys the gardens so because he might well be roaming Camelot's woods. He's got half a mind to camp here lately, despite the bed, the quarters the ship has provided him.

It's as he halts the motions of his swordplay and lets his sword arm down, swinging idly at his side that he catches sight of someone lingering by the trees, stepping into sigh. Arthur turns to her properly at once, with a courtly dip of his head to acknowledge her presence.]

Good day miss. [Arthur greets, his gaze taking in that she stands with a sword at her belt, a strange thing indeed, he can only think she means to practice alone, even if she does not look one with the strength to do so. Morgana was deft with a sword, and insisted on training with him in their youth, however that doesn't make it a common sight.] I do not mean to stay too long- [He assumes she is only waiting for him to leave the clearing.]

[It is odd to think that she finds any familiarity on seeing a stranger practicing the sword, and yet she does. He does not look at all like someone she would know, and it is all too rare for her to meet people with hair so short, but in a place so foreign, this man, with clothes fashioned more similarly to the ones in Middle Earth, and who practices the blade much like the people she knows do, may be as close as she will find to the Rohirrim on this ship.

The choice of title is strangely amusing to her, one she certainly is not used to hearing. Then again, she is but a stranger to him, he would not know who she is, and she finds herself welcoming the slight informality in his greeting.]

Please, you do not hinder me. [She smiles as she tilts her head at him with a small curtsy.] You are free to stay as long as you like. I do apologize for interrupting you, however.

[It had never been uncommon to see a woman in gowns at home, here it is; they wear all manner of things and not all of it is terribly modest. Here it is uncommon to find them in clothes or garments familiar to the realm of Camelot. When he does see someone, almost in a sense familiar, in a round about way he cannot help but wonder where they are from.

Arthur has learned to adapt his words, or rather it is becoming habit lately. There are so many here and from so many worlds. He never would have said miss at home, but he is learned since his arrival it is rather more acceptable in this age.]

Not at all. I was merely seeking distraction [A small sigh follows, though it has nothing at all to do with the interruption, it's not a trouble at all. In posture and expression he is still most welcoming.] And perhaps it is better sought in conversation. [However a nod and a motion of his hand indicates the sword at her belt.] Unless, of course you meant to practice? There is not a great deal of open space here- [He implies he will relinquish said space, should she wish it.]

[Her hand comes to rest on her sword almost instinctively when he motions towards it. It is a comfort mostly, yet she is glad to find that she is not the only one familiar with a blade. She does not feel quite so foolish for thinking that a sword could bring any sort of protection in a place like this.]

It was on my thoughts to do so, but I can easily see those plans changed. [She will have many an opportunity to do so on her own, after all, and perhaps with some company she can also distract herself. The place may be daunting but clearly most people here aren't - quite the contrary, so far they have been nothing but friendly and helpful.]

I am Éowyn, sister-daughter of King Théoden of Rohan. [She is not sure why even she says all of it, though it may have something to do with the hope that anyone would even recognize the name of either the land or the king in this place.]

There is no need, easy though it would be. [Arthur offers with ease, of course by pure nature he at once begins to think he may be of help. To anyone in need of practicing swordplay. Not that he necessarily is better, or superior quite, merely it is the mind of someone who has spent years training men. However, for a moment introductions overtake.]

A pleasure to meet you, Lady Éowyn [Arthur may have begun to abandon in some ways the manner of court, but he can just as easily call upon it when the situation deems it so, thus he dips in a bow to the young woman as he would any other introduced of royal blood. Sister-daughter, not a term he might use, but he can pick the logic of it.] King Arthur- of Camelot. I'm afraid your realm is not one familiar to me. However, there are so many worlds aboard this one ship and so few carry a sword.

[At the mention of his title, her posture changes. Camelot is not a name she recognizes, and Arthur just as well sounds odd, from which she can only assume that he fares from a different world. But he is a king regardless, and Éowyn presents her respect to him with a quick correction of her initial greeting to him, as she bows her head more properly.] My Lord.

[When she uprights herself, she keeps a posture only slightly more formal, even if so far Arthur does not seem to mind a relaxed approach. In a manner it feels inappropriate to address a king, any king, in such a way.] I have never heard of your Kingdom either, but it does seem to share more familiarities with my own than others whence come many of the people here.

[Arthur does show his appreciation, with small, but gracious nod. After all he might have just as easily offered his name only.] Titles mean little to most here. [He speaks with an even tone, he does not hold malice when worlds, lands and their people are so very different.]

Yes. I find so too. [Arthur agrees thoughtfully, a small nod following.] Still a welcome sight amongst the corridors and oddly lit rooms of this place. All that is considered modern now. [It's cold, largely unyielding. None of the familiar warmth of the Castle walls with roaring fires.]

Lady Éowyn, may I invite you to make use of your sword in a sparring match? [His invitation is most certainly of a friendly tone, as once again he gestures to the weapon fastened to her belt. After all, he wishes to forget his troubles, and she has made clear she came here to take advantage of the open space. Also, whilst he appreciates the gesture of respect from her, it might ease matters.]

Yet they mean something to a few of us. [They do to her, at least. She is not home, and he is not from her land, but it brings her some comfort to cling to anything that is familiar to her, even if that something is no more than pleasantries exchanged or formalities given to another.

She lets out a small surprised noise, her hand moving to rest over the hilt of her own sword as he gestures towards it. His friendliness is mirrored in her, as she looks back up with a smile and an easy nod. She had come here to practice after all, and she is sure that she has no reason to expect this man trying to hurt her.

(Though even if he did, she would simply have to handle it accordingly.)] I gladly accept your offer. It does seem like the best way for us both to practice.

[The gardens are, by far, the safest place for Lúthien. And one of her favorite. She'd been told that on arrival, it had been proven more or less true and she has friends here who would protect her since she could not (would not) use a weapon. And she loathed being surrounded by the cold metal halls of the ship.

The elf-maiden misses still the freedom of the forests of Doriath, the peace and safety given to them by her mother, the songs of her people and Menegroth. This is the closest she can come to any of it. It doesn't compare, hardly comes close, but trees and flowers and grass, at least she has that. And she can fill the air with song. Which she does openly. He may hear her voice before he sees her, barefooted and hair flowing, dark as the shadows of twilight, behind her as she danced to her own song.]

[Arthur lacks the true enthusiasm to be focused entirely on his task. Unusual for Arthur indeed, especially with a sword in hand, it only means distraction can reach him easily enough where it might not usually. So, it is as he attempts to go through the motions of his stance, the hold of his sword that a voice reaches him. At first it seems to surround, enchanting and quite lovely to his ears. It is not a distraction to be disliked, so it does not draw irritation in him - but, almost seems to make the gardners a calmer place at once.

It's when he looks for the source of the voice that he is suddenly stilled, brought to stare because he can scarcely believe what he sees and thinks he is mistaken. Is it just because he longs to see her so? He has to be mistaken because, though his father did try to encourage it, Morgana did not take to singing. He does not move to her, but watches her; the dark hair, pale complexion, her eyes. She so reminds him that he almost seems to miss the smaller differences there might be and he speaks before he means to.] Morgana? It can't be.

[The maiden doesn't heed him. It's not her name so he must be speaking to another but as she continues her song, she realizes suddenly that they are the only two in the vicinity. Her song comes to an abrupt end at that realization and she turns fully to look at the young man.

A mortal, by the looks of him. He lacks the almost unearthly look of one of the Eldar and he looks like no dwarf she's ever met. So. Mortal. Like Sirius and Tom and Eowyn.

Lúthien cocks her head slightly to the side, hair shifting to reveal a leaf-shaped ear. There's more to her than just looking or seeming like others elves but at least she's one of the least intimidating looking of them.]

Who?

[Her confusion snaps Arthur from his reverie and only now does logic choose to flood his mind, the differences between them are so unmistakable he's rushed just as rapidly by foolishness and near shame, but that is not this woman's fault.]

Forgive me, my lady. [He can't help but wonder if there might be a manner in which he could excuse himself from the conversation without appearing ill-tempered. Unlikely. Thus he makes an effort to recover by projecting a courtly manner, even tempered and polite, though a short sigh leaves his lips.]

I was mistaken-. I had no intent to interrupt your song.[Well rather, it had been a second thought. But there is warmth in his tone, hesitating to admit to thinking he had seen his sister, again. Perhaps, had she not recently left, he would not have been eager to see what he had wished to.]

There is nothing to forgive. [She shakes her head.] You are not the first to have done so and will not be the last.

[She's had a few people do it back home, on the ship. At least this time she doesn't have flower tailing along with her footsteps. Enough have been added to the gardens since her arrival, she doesn't want to overflow this level with them.]

Who is Morgana?

It is a pleasure to meet you all the same. [He offers rather humbly, a kind tone an attempt to make up for his mistake, every glance only seems to remind him all the more than he is not looking at whom he thought her to be.

It's only fair she ask, isn't it? He supposes she must be curious, he wonders if she's even heard the name before, if this is not the first time she has been mistaken for another.] Morgana is my sister. She left the ship not long ago, apparently departures are just as unpredictable as arrivals.

I am sorry that she is no longer with you. I have no siblings by blood but I can imagine how you must feel.

[She would be very upset if Artanis were to disappear, thinking of the other woman as a sister and knowing that she will be family eventually.]

And it is a pleasure to meet you, as well. Despite the circumstances. [Half a smile spreads across her features. She appreciates, at least, that he's making up for his mistake. Lúthien isn't exactly fond of being mistaken for others. Even if the elf princess isn't known on other worlds.

And then Sirius' "lesson" on greeting humans comes to mind. Don't want to seem rude, right? ~~Lúthien? Rude? Never!~~ So she steps forward and lightly presses a kiss to his cheeks.]

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One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard

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I hope face mistaking is okay at very first? I can edit otherwise!

haha, that's okay!

So slow. x.x sorry

it's okay! I'm slow too

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