Henry "Hotspur" Percy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hotspurred) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel2017-12-12 11:40 pm
hotspurred) wrote in hadriel2017-12-12 11:40 pm
Entry tags:
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[Henry stands in armour, ever a proud knight. Yet this time his armour is stripped back to just his layers of mail over which he wears the blue sash of the Guard, a concession to the heat here above ground. While bearing a number of visible bruises and cuts, he otherwise seems hale. Yet his eyes are dark. He stands next to a shorter woman, but in a clear break from tradition, this time it's definitely not Maketh.
If it isn't clear enough that Kate is not Maketh, it's the fact that, despite standing straight backed and with her hair (long past the stage of having even the faintest hint of pink in it, all bleach blonde with steadily growing dark roots) pulled back into a bun atop her head, she looks rather like she'd prefer not to be hosting this on video. Which shouldn't surprise anyone who's been here long enough; her posts tend to be nothing more than text or audio. Suffice to say that the knight won the rock paper scissors match.]
We have survived with our hopes for a future yet intact. Though hard-fought, and at no small cost, I yet name that a victory. But let us not celebrate yet.
[Henry's voice changes; his next words come slower, and sharper. His pitch drops, and a trace of melancholy runs through both his tone and his expression.]
It grieves me to make it known that Maketh no longer numbers among us in Hadriel.
[It's only a small, momentary glimpse of the grief he feels at her loss. But he only means to get that knowledge out there rather than talk of it, so his expression quickly shutters as he returns to his previous composure. It gets him the briefest of sidelong glances from Kate, but other than the brief purse of her lips, she doesn't seem to react.]
There is more I would say. Henceforth, consider Nick Valentine my fellow commander of the Guard. Those who feel they cannot approach me may turn to him; it shall achieve the same end.
I ask that every guardsmen report in to inform me of their current state. I must know which of you are in need of respite, and who is available for duty. I have much work for those who are able.
[As he says that, he sets a hand on his hip and cocks his head at Kate.]
Kate stands next to me for good reason. Both the Clinic and Guard headquarters were destroyed in the Null's assault. We have decided to rebuild them side by side. As such, I expect all guardsmen who nurse no injuries to aid the the construction of both.
[It's at this point that Kate actually says something, clearing her throat before she speaks.]
Be built near the colosseum, like before. Anyone who wants to assist us is free to. We need both construction and supplies. Be posting a list of supplies the clinic needs when we begin construction.
[There's a beat of silence as Henry waits to see if Kate wants to say anything more than that, but when it's clear she's done, he simply nods once, decisively.]
I intend for the Guard to see a small number of watchtowers made and manned in addition to our usual patrols. Rest assured that you shall hear from us again soon.
If it isn't clear enough that Kate is not Maketh, it's the fact that, despite standing straight backed and with her hair (long past the stage of having even the faintest hint of pink in it, all bleach blonde with steadily growing dark roots) pulled back into a bun atop her head, she looks rather like she'd prefer not to be hosting this on video. Which shouldn't surprise anyone who's been here long enough; her posts tend to be nothing more than text or audio. Suffice to say that the knight won the rock paper scissors match.]
We have survived with our hopes for a future yet intact. Though hard-fought, and at no small cost, I yet name that a victory. But let us not celebrate yet.
[Henry's voice changes; his next words come slower, and sharper. His pitch drops, and a trace of melancholy runs through both his tone and his expression.]
It grieves me to make it known that Maketh no longer numbers among us in Hadriel.
[It's only a small, momentary glimpse of the grief he feels at her loss. But he only means to get that knowledge out there rather than talk of it, so his expression quickly shutters as he returns to his previous composure. It gets him the briefest of sidelong glances from Kate, but other than the brief purse of her lips, she doesn't seem to react.]
There is more I would say. Henceforth, consider Nick Valentine my fellow commander of the Guard. Those who feel they cannot approach me may turn to him; it shall achieve the same end.
I ask that every guardsmen report in to inform me of their current state. I must know which of you are in need of respite, and who is available for duty. I have much work for those who are able.
[As he says that, he sets a hand on his hip and cocks his head at Kate.]
Kate stands next to me for good reason. Both the Clinic and Guard headquarters were destroyed in the Null's assault. We have decided to rebuild them side by side. As such, I expect all guardsmen who nurse no injuries to aid the the construction of both.
[It's at this point that Kate actually says something, clearing her throat before she speaks.]
Be built near the colosseum, like before. Anyone who wants to assist us is free to. We need both construction and supplies. Be posting a list of supplies the clinic needs when we begin construction.
[There's a beat of silence as Henry waits to see if Kate wants to say anything more than that, but when it's clear she's done, he simply nods once, decisively.]
I intend for the Guard to see a small number of watchtowers made and manned in addition to our usual patrols. Rest assured that you shall hear from us again soon.
no subject
We forget?
[He says in a jagged rush, as though the impact of those words have winded him. The thought of Maketh returned to her death, unaware of the fact that she is loved in her last moments, alone in her mind—
He grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, and forces his grip to relax.]
no subject
'S what happened for me. ( Sure, there's always a chance that her experience isn't the norm, but how likely is that? )
no subject
Forgive me. I—
[Henry says, contrite. He remains still another moment to let her pain fade, before he carefully resumes his work. He lowers his gaze, his mouth twisting downwards.]
The Door returned Maketh to her death. A traitor betrayed. Alone in her last moments. Is it worse to think that she died unaware that she was loved? Or that she died hating the ones she loved?
no subject
The silence which falls after those words is a thick, heavy thing, where Kate doesn't have an answer to the questions posed. Honestly — )
I don't know.
( It's an awful time for Maketh to have left, with no closure or redemption. No way of resolving all the threads left untied. The irritation at Maketh, at her stupid ass decision, has lessened, a little. Not enough. But a little. It still bubbles there, under the surface.
But this is beyond Kate's own gut need to protect her staff and her people that made the decision so galling in the first place. )
Wish we knew for sure what The Door even does.
( Why did she have to end up with all these memories locked away, where she felt the urge to do things like pick up archery classes with no explanation why or how she felt so at ease with the weapon. Was that normal? Do they truly deserve to spend so much time here only to have it be taken away? )
no subject
Perhaps Sorrow shall finally deign to enlighten us after he is returned to life.
no subject
We can dream.
( Though, if Sorrow did tell them, it'd likely be informative. He doesn't exactly mince words.
Kate shifts, pulling her legs back and crossing one over the other. That does feel somewhat better. )
That... ( She catches the words that almost come out, the roundabout ones, on her tongue and smooths an eyebrow with a fingertip instead. ) Thanks for that.
no subject
[He nods shortly, then pulls himself back up onto his feet, before he extends a hand towards her.]
We ought to get back to work.