#kingservant

[heirofheroics-blog]

@kingservant

There was little that could manage to entertain a child used to near nonstop activity in a small village covered in snow and ice. Eidolon was no Gotham City, not even coming close to the constant hustle of the League of Assassins’ bases. Every instant that passed left Damian more on edge, ready for something to actually happen, and for him to be needed to spring into action.

For weeks now, that moment kept not coming, and it was beginning to drive the boy mad. Peace had always seemed like a fairytale of a concept, silly and ridiculous, but this place seemed to truly not need help in maintaining safety.

This did not stop him from training, from patrolling, from spending hours daily keeping an eye on the happenings, just in case. But even then, so much time was left over.

Staying in the bunkhouse during the day was out of the question; he would rather avoid the close proximity with complete strangers as much as possible. So often, Damian found himself simply sitting on benches around the town, doing his best to keep an eye out, a sketchbook on his lap giving perfect cover for his observant behavior.

 It was rare for him to see much of anything of interest, frankly, but a young man in armor was enough to pique the child’s curiosity. Armor was not something worn for no reason, after all. Closing his sketchbook, Damian stood quickly, trailing after the other about a yard behind until they reached a more open area of the village, when his own small form sped up to catch up with the stranger.

“That attire is an interesting choice,” Choosing to be blunt with his words was something Damian often found to be the best choice. It got answers the quickest, after all.

[thirteenthseal-blog]

Bedivere did not come to Eidolon quietly, or rather, Arthur refused to let him; and for that, he is so very grateful.

Despite the blanket of ease, the peace and the undeniable, all fulfilling love flowing between them now, the King could not seem to quell the bundle of nerves inside of him. It had been an immensely eventful first day for his beloved knight, and he was surely at the center of that result. He had mentioned throughout the week in shy murmurs of apology that he did not mean to be so overbearing, nor did he wish to overwhelm him with his emotions, to which Bedivere always smiled, always flushed pink, always shook his head and held his hands, reassuring him that it had meant the world to him.

He believed him, of course. He’s never once doubted him, and yet...

    “Bedivere.” Out comes the familiar, unruly blond hair from the bunkhouse door, a smile painting his lips in full while he hides a box behind his back. When applicable, Arthur was very capable of finding compromise among others by way of his natural charisma—to which he wasted no time in cooperating with their bunkmates to find a specific time each day that his knight could rest as he needed, undisturbed and free to sleep peacefully. It was the very least he could do. “Are you awake?”

Arthur notes a shift, then, a peek of lighter, long hair falling out past the new comforter he’d bought him a day before. The sight alone makes him beam.

    “Do you have a moment? I’d like to show you something.”

@kingservant

[roselament-blog]

@kingservant​

The look on his face-- softly downtrodden as he’d carefully perfected over the years-- brightens as he sees the man standing before him. It’s minute, a delicate quirk of his lips that an ordinary onlooker likely wouldn’t catch. Of course Bedivere would, though. 

Tristan supposes as he approaches that perhaps he shouldn’t smile, shouldn’t draw close without so much as his weapon, given their last parting. But without the reversal that had clouded his heart then, he finds that what he craves most dearly is the warm embrace of an old friend.

... Perhaps not literally, though. He isn’t that reckless. A hand rises to his scarred chest in loving supplication, head inclining as a greeting and a show of trust wrapped into one. “Sir Bedivere...” It’s husky with disuse. If he’d spoken to any of the strangers he’d passed first, he may have made a new friend... or a new enemy. Too risky. “... We needn’t speak of the past. Are you well, old friend?”

[eidolonpath]

please pardon the intrusion of one as inconsequential as myself, but i'm here... servant class saber, true name bedivere. please find all you need to at /app.

Welcome to Eidolon, traveler. Wishes have brought you far, and we know they will only bring you further.

You will find your residence in Bunkhouse #18.

Your longsword sits upon your mattress. Airgetlám remains with you, of course... though its magical abilities themselves cannot activate, and it acts only as a prosthetic.

Search, seek, persist. Take heart in your heart.

May Diaidem bless you.