#dantes 01

[for-hope]

@volontedacier​ iked your post “Birthday Boy RP ad time! It’s Komaeda’s Birthday (4.28) !!  Just his...”

Just his luck…

This whole series of events, really. Where should he start. when he was born? When his dog died? When that plane crashed? When he’d gotten into hope’s peak? When the world had ended? when he’d ended up in a strange new city? when the world had ended again? Or maybe with the more recent plane crash. Yeah that seemed like a place to start.

He’d actually been hiding on that plane, from an army of robot bares and shadows and monsters and soldiers and, well, just about everything else. If he’d known it was in working order, he never would have hidden in there, of course. He’s not… the biggest fan of airplanes.

They had a tendency to fall out of the sky while he was on board. Maybe it doesn’t count if the world is ending and things are streaking down from the sky, maybe, in a situation like this, a plane not crashing would be the unlikely event, but he’s only seen the end of the world a few times, he wouldn’t know.

But he survived, of course he did, almost completely uninjured, and happened to land himself relatively close to this beach. Still far enough away that his meager stamina was strained to reach it, but he had. How lucky.

He has no idea if its one attached to the mainland, or some island or reef, just that its solid and there don’t seem to be any monsters here, for now. But he’s exhausted, and a little scraped up, and freezing, so for now, all he can do is sit there on this piece of driftwood and stair at his messy reflection in the water left by the tide.

Then, the reflection ripples, just a little, in the winds that are still whipping around. Changes. Maybe he hit his head a little harder than he thought. It takes him a second, staring at the new face in the puddle, before turning around and looks up at- Someone who definitely wasn’t him.

No matter what surface similarities there might have been, it was as if Komaeda Nagito momentarily saw none of them. All he could tell is that this person, unlike himself, was really, truly talented. Not lucky, there was something real there. It made him a little dizzy. He falls off the log, back onto the wet sand, with a sort of strangled “Oh.”

[kingservant-blog1]

@envenge

perhaps today is the knight’s lucky day. he’s come to the corner store again (three times in two days, not that he’s counting), still bold enough to show up on his own, still not willing enough to be assertive in getting what he wants, still very likely to leave the store with something he neither needs nor wants. he has resigned himself to this fact, but--skulking at the back of the store where the employee can’t quite see him, he has discovered a treasure: a single worn book on a neglected shelf, left behind by the last customers. ordinarily, he might not show too much interest, but the title on the spine reads la morte d’arthur, and he cannot help but feel a little possessive.

which, of course, would not be an issue, if not for the figure at his side, black flame licking silently at his cloak. they reach for the book in the same moment. it’s a little embarrassing, and bedivere would admit defeat without a second thought, but the subject matter makes him act rashly.

he does not know the other man--not that his knowledge of heroic spirits is exactly complete, having spent so long with his mind and heart fixed on a single man--but they are, at the very least, kindred spirits if only by means of their role as servants, and that is enough to spur bedivere to speak to him.

“do you also have an interest in the legend?”