[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

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

A philosophical shrug. "Such is the fate of all empires."

[futaille]

"One wonders why anyone still tries."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"Oh, presumably they get enchanted with the idea of having more money and power than anyone else, and conveniently forget that there might be responsibilities attached."

[futaille]

"Oh, terrible all the way around then."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"All the way around. Back to front, side to side, up and down--there is no direction in which an empire isn't an absolutely terrible idea."

[futaille]

"Very true. Which is probably why they are so very good at crumbling."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"To the eventual fall of England," says Dinadan, toasting with an imaginary glass. "May it be as ignoble as my own."

[futaille]

He mirrors the ephemeral toast. "Hear hear. Although I suppose as a Frenchman, my agreement would probably be assumed anyway."

[rebecs_with_the_straps]

"To the downfall of France, too, then!"

[futaille]

Grantaire laughs. "To the next several!"