Battle and Honour are Difficult Lovers

Log Info

• Title: Battle and Honour are Difficult Lovers
• Emitter: Knightmare
• Characters: Knightmare, Paenitia
• Place: A16: Nobility District - Golem Forge
• Time: Saturday, January 23, 2021, 7:17 PM
• Summary: Sister Paenitia meets up with Dame Betrys, who has stripped herself of armour and cleaned down to her basic armatures. The Dark Lucht has come to act as squire and assist with re-armouring her outer plates. She's removed her own mail, but retains her hat and mask, reluctant to remove it. Knightmare asks why, and Paenitia admits her face is too expressive, her thoughts too easily read, and the Smiling Man mask gives her confidence because she knows what expression everyone is seeing. The little knight assists the larger one, placing the pieces, while their conversation drifts to food, old balads, and love and self-sacrifice. Paenitia explains her view of love, and the dynamics of it, as being akin to the ocean and the sky reacting off each other. The Knightmare acknowledges this metaphore as comprehansible, and they continue the re-plating.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A16: Nobility District *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The splendor of the technology, bustle and eclectic energy of the city and nation of Alexandria all seem to point towards the towering structures and constant thrum of activity in the Castle District. The Castle District contains the vast majority of the government offices, guild headquartrs, noble quarters and political functions of the city. The very air seems energized with this level of importance. The architecture is pompous and enormous, consisting largely of multi-leveled edifices and great jutting towers and buildings that seem to grow out of the mountains with hanging gardens and brightly colored banners and mana lamps strewn about. Everything seems to be aiming upwards here and pointing towards the freedom of the skies beyond. The grand towers and structures reaching heavenwards and activity in the skies above a constant happening with ships of all sizes from air-cabs to great merchant vessels moving through the Skygates and Griffon Riders moving through their patrols as they pass through and above the many bridges and walkways that connect the towers, buildings and walls.

Ever-easterward stands the fortress-castle of Castellum Alexandrae and a large bulk of both ground and air traffic seems focused in that direction.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Knightmare   6'4"     294 Lb     War Golem         Female    A knightly construct on the hoof bearing heraldry of lost Dragonier.
Paenitia     3'0"     34 Lb      Halfling          Female    A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Clank!

These past weeks have been arduous, and expensive...

Clank!

With the aid of her stolid companion, the Derelict Dame of Dragonier has been consolidating suitable armours...

Clank!

The Lucht Siuil Knight had been doing some of the adjustment and resurfacing of appropriate pieces when her duties and personal needs allow, to aid the efforts of a Khazadi refugee family, reunited with Betrys's help...

Clank!

The Dame, herself, has been stripped almost to the substructure entirely in bouts over the course of days, travelling to the stables en shroud to see to Bold Cysgodawyr, while smaller, and more capable hands have gone in with distilled spirits, cloth and wire brushes to cleanse the years of constant abuse from her inner workings...

Clank!

But now... after so long, and so much effort, the final reassembly can begin on this day...

There is a flutter of wings, a scratching of cobblestones and the sound of hoofbeats, although fewer than normal. Followed by a loud deep call, "Ruuaaah!" A peacock-gypsy-andalusian announces himself outside the forge.

"Ramirez, I dismount!" Can be heard clearly, then, "No! You can not enter. She is naked. Men must not see. The soot, he is everywhere. You will be a Black Beauty and have too many feathers to scrub. Wait for me my love, on that tower."

The flapping of wings again, and the creak of a door. A red knight enters, still in mask and hat but without armour. A crimson jacket, blouse and leggings replace them, along with a white sash around her waist. She carries a small bag of supplies.

Her voice rings out, happy and high pitched, "Hola my friend, you are here? I was delayed. I am ready to assist."

Knightmare is standing in the shadowed back of the smithy, taking one of her stable brushes to the sable cap of her tail, while the outer components of her head and face stand ready nearby, matching plume finally shimmering in proper satin luster for the first time in quite a while.

The construct, Gnomish gear and crystal work mated to the collapsing rods of Dragonieri artifice, turns the onyx studded garble of brazed sensory conduit and yawning absence of her 'nose' and mouth to her dear friend, her voice tinnier and higher pitched without the rest of her face to add it's due resonance, "Hello, dear friend!" Her internal bellows, exposed for her lack of shell, expands and contracts in sections as she continues to speak, "I understand you had needs, but gladly welcome your assistance."

Her attention, the array of onyx strips that rest behind the recesses of her visor, turns back to regard the bit of tail to her evident satisfaction, as she releases the limb to it's gentle wagging and sets aside the brush.

The little Lucht stares through her mask at her friend, eyes roaming over the crystals, onxy and burnished metal of her fellow knight, revealed to her depths. Paenitia is conscious that barring her feet, she is covered in clothes and curls. Her jacket is easy enough to remove. Underneath her white blouse is light, loose and sheer. Where it presses against her, mahogany skin beneath darkens the tones. She hesitates at removing more, even as Dame Betrys' face looks on her with large eyes and little else.

She touches at her hat, almost removing it, but settling it again. "The cleaning, do you need more help? I have the little brushes of my own. You are very beautiful. I have seen nothing the like before."

There is a little camber of Betrys's head on the compliment, but she turns more fully and crosses her arm at her waist and tucks one polished hoof behind the other to neatly bow, "You are very kind to say so, thank you."

The Knightmare, design touched by whatever whimsy touched her Creator, was built to fight and obey and give little more thought to anything but those two objectives. The awarenesses of propriety, insofar as the baring of flesh has been a concept of academic consideration, but as it is not a proper thing to broach. The contrast is enough, that the hesitation on the little Knight in regard to her hat, the reversal brings the little camber back to the construct's head. She straightens then, and steps lightly forward, hoofbeats lighter for the absence of nearly three Lucht's worth of additional mass stacked neatly to await remounting, "I would appreciate your help very much, dear Paenitia, thank you. Omalla, blessed child, managed to get the last of the tightest parts this morning. I have not been this exposed since I was built, and do not know these new plates. It would be most cumbersome for me to rearm on my own."

Sister Paenitia follows behind, feet softly padding on the floor, eyes examining the gnomish work and appreciating the complexity of construction. She is familiar with artifice and crude machines, the Knightmare shames the rock crushers and stamps of the Isobarian mines. Delicate and intricate, no brutish bulk. Her bag clatters at her side, bringing blacksmith tools from her youth. While they are small instruments to fit her hands, they too are rough blocks in comparison.

Paenitia approaches the plates, examining the stack as she stands beside Betrys. "We help each other armour up in Isobar. I have acted the squire. I am unsure. There are tools for the attaching? The pieces are numbered, their order is known?"

Another momentary pause, "My friend, I mean no insult. I know to not place my hands into machines. It is safe? No parts of you that will crush, or I will damage with the touch?"

She examines one of the topmost plates.

There is a moment's consideration as the construct processes that to it's logical end, then, "I believe I have the sequence, yes. And your question is prudent, no insult is taken." A hoof lifts to set upon a stool, "The small brass nubs arrayed along the joints will extend through the former rivet holes of the new plating to hold it in place." Again, the onyx is levelled on Sister Paenitia and the oddly different voice continues, "Nearest the joints themselves is the greatest risk, and so I endeavor to remain still as I may while your hands are in place. Perhaps best we start with the thigh plating, number four should be the front of the left leg."

"I see. Yes. The brass nubs, they are bolts or the new rivets to flatten?" Paenitia asks, sifting through the topmost plate. She selects one almost as large as she is, "The Fourth! She is here."

She carefully positions the metal plate against the Knightmare's left leg, aligning one hole then making small adjustments until all slip through and it is aligned to the thigh. With one hand in the centre, holding it in place, she looks up. Her metal mask with its patina an odd contrast to the construct's smooth surface. "The plates do not layer. They are edge to edge with tight seam, yes?"

Knightmare answers a soft, "Yes."

As the plate is finally nudged and cajoled into place and the little nubs do, in fact, extend despite the cold, but open like a flower to lay flush against the steel with almost inaudible little tings. Without shifting in the slightest, she continues to speak, "The overlap will come at the joints for the most part."

A new moment of silence, then, and "I would not trouble you, my friend, but I have a question if it is no imposition?"

"The questions, they are no trouble." Paenitia says, turning back to the pile of plates and lifting another. She's gnome-sized, so the original assembly of the Knightmare must have been similar. Her creator positioning parts that were his equal in size. "The plate three, she goes here, yes?"

A long, curved section, the outer side of the left thigh. She holds it with arms outstretched, hands at top and bottom, carefully pressing it in place, aligning the nubs, pressing again in the centre while gazing upwards.

Knightmare decides to chance just the tiniest nod as the plate is settled into place, and is satisfied that she doesn't cause near enough collateral movement to endanger any fingers, "She does."

As before, the little brass fittings emerge and lock the gleaming steel into place, "It has a different feel than the old shell."

Safe to move again, her head pivots to more properly regard her friend, "It seemed as though you were going to remove your hat, but seemed reticent before abandoning to notion altogether. I was curious why, if I may?"

Paenitia picks up another plate from the stack. It's similar in form to the other, likely the inside thigh, and long enough her arms are stretched to hold it and it presses against her chest. She's facing away when she answers, a dark Lucht with a mass of black curls, in a white blouse and red leggings. "I am not the Knight so brave to remove all."

"In Haranna, when I come of age, my mother is working, servant to a cruel man. We fight, the mother and maturing daughter battles. Loud, the doors slam, the pots and pans fly." The dark Lucht holds the plate a lower. "Grandmother, she says, 'Pae, the hate, the anger, the face shows. It hurts your mother.' This makes the fight."

"Later, with the Mad Dogs, they say 'Sister, the fear, the panic, the face shows. It makes you the joke'." She turns, looking up, dark eyes deep and wide behind the mask. All expression hidden except for what they show, a nervous vulnerability, "The Smiling Man, he smiles for me. I know he is always smiling. Without him, you would see my thoughts, the face shows. The thoughts are wild and strong, like Ramirez. I did not know what they would be when I see you."

She holds the legplate in front of her, like a shield, still gazing upwards.

Knightmare's hoof rises with little whispers of the collapsing rods contracting, then sets itself to the floor before the golem, tail waving to provide balance to each step, closes to her friend. About arm's reach, her arm's reach, with a chorussed hiss, she sinks to her haunches and leans just enough to attain equilibrium and meet her friend's eyes with the plane of her own.

A moment, two, then slowly the bellows draws in, and let's out slowly anew, "I do not always understand the feelings of others. Not by the marks of their countenance. With all my years, it is still difficult for me to read expression." she confesses in low volume, "All I can say in truth, with certainty, is the face would show my friend. A bold, cheersome figure of compassion and with a stout heart for battle."

There comes a shift, then, her hoof sliding back and her right knee sinking nearly to the floor ere the crafted head bows, "I would not make you distressed. Pray, pardon me."

"I... am not distressed." She says, her head tilting down, her voice suggesting otherwise. Her head perks up again, so the hat-brim tilts enough she can look up at the Knightmare. "I am not ready. I mean no insult. I need the time."

Paenitia moves, aware of the odd intimacy her assistance resembles. It is assisting another Knight to armour up, she tells herself, though the friend is more stripped than she thought possible. Unsure what she would see, unsure how she would react, whether the fearsome visage Dame Betrys presents fully armoured would be emphasized without, introduce a worry that she was without soul, kindled the desire to hide herself.

The Red Knight is not ready to be laid bare, to be as vulnerable as her friend, to be seen as she is. An ideal is easier to live up to when the facade is firm. Carefully, Paenitia presses the next leg plate on and holds it in place. "My heart is full of gladness, that I am asked to help. I am the one to ask the pardon, to stay obscure when you are so revealed."

Knightmare nods slightly then, with her joints largely in compression, there is less risk of injury, "I give it gladly, dear friend."

Here, then, as the plate is settle in place and locked, the construct knight reaches out, as Gentle Tarla had for her in those first, harrowing days of awakening, to lightly curl an articulated hand upon the smaller Knight's shoulder, "Take the time you need." comes from the bellows in a low, soft tone, "As in all things, best when you are ready, no?"

The weight of the touch bolsters her. She is warm, her heat easily felt through the thin blouse. Paenitia looks up and smiles, which can't be seen, but her mask is always smiling and it shows in her eyes. "They are. Yes."

She gives a pat-pat to the newly formed thigh, "The One plate and the leg is done. I have the trick of it. The next will go faster. In the little time you can stride out to the sun."

The little Lucht moves quickly, fetching the next piece, ready to place it.

Knightmare nods anew, her expressiveness limited by her construction, but she carefully rises to a half crouch to put the thigh in an easy enough alignment for her friend to reach, "I would treat you to dinner once we are finished, if you've a mind for it?"

As before the final piece locks into place and the seams all but disappear for the armor's luster, golden in the torchlight.

"Of course! To feast with friends is the reason for life." Paenitia says, embodying the nature of the faring folk and her personal heritgage. She move easily, getting the front piece for the right thigh and holding it ready.

"The Tarrace, I hear good things. It is a cantina with the troubadors. It will have sight and song. We can ask for the old ballads."

That is an odd conundrum she's presented with. She can't eat, as such, but, she can see others are fed and join them in conversation, which will have to suffice. Betrys assumes another pose, so the other leg is best accessible, and holds it with more confidence in her motion, and thus the construct watches her bring the pieces over to lock into place.

"It would be nice to hear the old songs again." she notes, the wistful note in her voice lost for the odd resonance she's currently working with.

"They may even sing of your lost home, my friend." Paenitia says, catching the wistful tone. Hopefully the suggestion will not evoke sadness. The old songs can sway one, one way or another. She places the thigh top, then turns and collects one for the side.

The dark Lucht's speed improves as she becomes familiar with the process. The pieces are expertly matched, easy to align. Only once does she have to lean on one a little, and she's light, she can't bend steel that much.

"The seams, are they so tight the water will not get in. Will you need a cleaning if we fight a wizard with the blood pool again?"

Knightmare nods, "I'd like that. Those were glorious days, my friend." she answers, "if only there was a way I could let you see the majesty of Hyrenstralza in the flesh, in those days of yore. He was magnificent, his scales resplendent in the dawn sun!"

The leaning causes the golem's tail to flick a little more vigorously in counter, but the labor in itself is straightforward and is proceeding quickly apace.

With her question, though, she cants her head and answers in a probably dubious note, "I'm not sure... probably. Blood seems thicker than water, but that is... a good question."

"My heart breaks that I did not see him." Paenitia says with cheerful exageration, picking and placing another piece. "The sun will always set and rise on Isobar. You can see the Mesa's with me, banded by the colours of dawn. The shadows fleeing as the light kisses the land awake. This beauty is not lost, even if the magnificence of Hyrenstralza is."

She nods as the war-golem ponders the question, then shrugs. "Then we shall see when we see. If the fight must be messy, then that is the fight. The fight and the honour, they are hard to bring together."

She presses a piece in place, "They are difficult lovers."

Knightmare's plate locks in with the little 'tings' and the golem nods, "Often, I have heard tales of strife between lovers." she muses, "It is a way, a reason for conflict that seems at odd joint with love."

Her hand rises, fingertips curling to gently touch against the central support of her 'ribcage', "Many times more, yet, I have seen this posture, preceeding some variation of 'Farewell my love', and many a bold comrade, and any number of others I had seen slathered in the yellow stains of fear minutes prior, do throw themselves in the gears of oblivion's engine and gladly."

The golem's otherworldly countenance once again aligns on her friend's own and she muses, "To be in love must be a magnificent, and yet confounding thing."

Paenitia watches the gesture, holding a plate still. She nods once, her black curls bouncing against her shoulders, her mask ever smiling and hiding what thoughts she might have. "I also have seen, and heard the farewell howls of the Mad Dogs, 'Remember me, my comrades!'"

"There is no greater love." The new plate is put in place. Paenitia watches as the nubs turn into rosettes and clamp it true.

"To be in love is to be held in a great storm. The passion burns so strong." She looks up at the Knightmare, her eyes glittering behind her mask, "The love is the world. It is the sea and the sky. Like the sea and the sky, they feed each other. The wind makes the waves. The waves bring the wind. At times they crash so fierce, boiling and dark, raging wild. At times, the beautiful peace."

"Love burns wild. Like all wild things it will run off. To bottle, is to kill it. Drink it, and a thousand nights pass before you sleep." Her dark eyes burn intensely, "You have the small feelings. You will have the big feelings, in time. Love will take you."

Knightmare nods and seems to think about that for a time. Her cognitive engines, grown into levels of awareness neither they, nor the crafters of her ilk were prepared for, spend interminable silence contemplating the imagery, parsing and comparing it to the impulses and 'feelings' she understands from experience. An articulated hand, almost skeletal aside from the rods and cables slung to motivate it, reaches out to gently poke the brim her friend's hat, 'You have a way with imagery, Paenitia. I believe I undestand, in part, better than I have, before."

The dark Lucht grins, all expressions still hidden, but at least her mask smiles for her. "This makes me glad."

She stands briefly, hands on hips, her breeches tight from waist to knees, below which the dark curls of her legs are tied back with bows. She surveys the stacks of armour plating.

"The task, she is half done. The chair I will need for the rest."

Knightmare's steps back from the stool and sets her hoof next to the other upon the floow, the allocated plates already significantly adding to the bass of her tread. There is another nod, and she suggests, "The torso plates perhaps, next, if you can alighn the rear plates, I can do the front, so we can have more time to enjoy this Tarrace?" She steps a little closer to the array of steel, first slipping little caps over her fingers with pronounced care else she risk scratching them. Fingers flex to be certain of their alignment, and the construct again sinks to her haunches. A glance to her shoulder to be certain where her friend stands, and the first, tapered dorsal plate is offered back.

Perhaps to help pass the time, as she knows sometimes prolonged silences seem to be anathea on occaision, she begins, "I would tell you of how I came to find such a fine steed as Cysgodawyr. In the mountains near Feld Mor, there were a clan of breeders, whence the first of his mighty line had come...."

OOC Convos

<OOC> Knightmare says, "one knight stripped, another laid bare"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "This scene went well. Knightmare was good. I hope Pae was effective. It's hard having her talk a long time."
<OOC> Knightmare says, "she was, yes. and the vulernability was a good, sudden surprise"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "I'm glad that worked."
<OOC> Paenitia says, "I think it fits"
<OOC> Knightmare says, "it was interesting seeing how it came about"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "well I had the idea that she didn't want her face seen because it was so expressive quite a while ago, but couldn't have her say it that simply, so I had to think why it was so."
<OOC> Knightmare says, "want to get to the truth? get more naked than anyone else in the room. :P"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "heee"
<OOC> Knightmare says, "which makes an interesting paralell with faran, and how paen reads her so well"