[Re-Introduction: Sir Dinadan]

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

Dinadan awakens, which is already several positive steps ahead of where he thought he'd be this morning (viz. in the void from which there is no awakening, or in the hereafter that he has done nothing particularly to avoid). A giddy thrill of relief washes through him. He cautiously cracks one eye open, and then the other. For a moment, the sunlight's brightness overwhelms him--an aching reminder that he is, somehow, alive.

But as the sunlight becomes bearable, he realizes that he is somehow, impossibly, once again, in Sagramore's cabbages.


"Christ, do you really only have one joke?" he calls to the sky--but he's grinning all the same. A life condemned to cabbages is better than a death condemned to Hell or the void, and given those are the only two options, he'll gladly take the cabbages.

Friends and strangers may find a tall, blond knight minstrel wandering around in Sagramore's borrowed clothes, occasionally strumming his rebec, definitely not touching anything he shouldn't.

Comments

[futaille]

"I think most people are fully willing to believe it of everyone else."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Ah, an interesting mystery--a truth that everyone knows and few will speak. There's a story in that, I'm sure."

[futaille]

"Oh, very likely. I'm not the type of person to say there's probably a story in anything, as some things are interminably dull and I can't imagine there being a story in them-- Although I suppose a dull story still qualifies, but that's beside the point-- but I am just as sure there are stories galore to be found in human idiocy."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Well--tell me a story of Sagramore, while we're on that subject. I want to know what new buffoonery he's devised here."

[futaille]

"He and I had an art salon not long ago."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Oh? Does he make art now?"

[futaille]

"Certainly! He specializes in invisible art but he is beginning to expand his domain."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"What's next for him, inaudible music? Tasteless cuisine? Odorless perfume?"

[futaille]

"Well, he's tried his hand at visible art first, but you offer some excellent suggestions! I should mention them to him."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Visible art," says Dinadan haughtily. "Pandering to the masses."

[futaille]

"Sadly, my own meager talents have yet to progress beyond the visible myself. He outstrips me in every regard."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Take heart! You're young yet; he's well advanced in his years. There's time to catch him up."

[futaille]

He laughs. "Ah yes, Sagramore the wizened elder."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"At least three years my elder. Possibly four."

[futaille]

"Truly a chasm so wide that the other side is barely visible."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Nigh infinite."

[futaille]

"As easy to see as his artwork."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

Finally, Dinadan's serious facade cracks; he cackles, eyes crinkling. "I like you so well," he says. "I'll only mock you a little in verse."

[futaille]

And his own expression shifts to one of mock affront. "That will never do. Mock to your heart's content! No man deserves any less, least of all me."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"But sir, my heart will never be content!"

[futaille]

"Good. What a horrific world it would be if I weren't to be subject to mockery."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"But you give as good as you get, I'm sure."

[futaille]

"Oh, I'm not sure about as good, but I at least make some semblance of effort."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Go on, then; come at me."

[futaille]

"Such a heady task after five minutes of acquaintance. Of course, it stands to reason that it's one you would set now to ensure volleys you can withstand."