backdated to somewhere early August

Date: 2024-08-29 07:10 pm (UTC)
traumaticus: (Whitey 2)
From: [personal profile] traumaticus
[Good day to you Argenti! How are you? Good, I hope. Now that you're back from dead and all. ANYWAY. Whatever he might be doing, Argenti is suddenly visited by a certain white boar. There's a both red rose and a handwritten letter addressed to him on his mouth.]

Salutation, Argenti of the Knights of the Beauty.
I hope this letter finds you well and that you are fairing despite the grim events that took recently place. There is no words that'll do justice to the remorse I am feeling for the nature of my actions, especially when aimed at your person. I hope you'll accept the gift of red rose and open your heart to the possibility of forgiveness. If not I completely understand.

Signed,
Richard Plantagenet, The Duke of Gloucester.

Date: 2024-09-03 06:27 pm (UTC)
traumaticus: (Whitey 3)
From: [personal profile] traumaticus
[Whitey's an inspiring sight, isn't he? While he is considerably smaller than and definitely a little rounder than most of the boars living in the wilderness at least he is very kept and clean. His white fur has been washed and brushed, making it shine brilliantly in the light. Feast your eyes, Argenti.

And hey! It's ok. This is hardly the first (or last) time when someone has sought counsel and advice from Whitey's calm and apparently "wise" presence. Even the previous king would share his sorrows and anxieties with him. So, oinking quietly, Whitey sits down on the ground and only tilts his little head to the side. That sure sounds like a pickle, Argenti. Whitey's witnessed the worst of Richard, been there when he sank to the black depths of his madness and ultimately freezing his soul from the rest of the world. It was also the time when Whitey wasn't with him.. So who knows, maybe there's a connection.

Anyway, unable to really give Argenti a proper answer he just turns his head to the ground, sniffing the red rose he had brought with him.]

Date: 2024-09-20 07:07 pm (UTC)
traumaticus: (Whitey 2)
From: [personal profile] traumaticus
Meep. [If Whitey could blush he definitely would be now. Way to go, Argenti. Swooning a boar like this.

He waits patiently for the knight come to his conclusion on what to do. And huffs eagerly once he's found his answer. Good on you, my dude! Whitey approves when people get along like this. Why can't we all live in peace and quiet. And as he requests, Whitey turns around and begins to lead Argenti to where he came from.

It takes about fifteen minutes or so for them to walk through the alleys of the city (Whitey has his own little shortcuts okay), before they reach the outskirts where they can see familiar black figure brandishing a sword. Richard has placed a wooden dummy in front of him and is currently practicing his swordmanship skills.]

Date: 2024-09-21 09:34 pm (UTC)
traumaticus: ghosthotel @ plurk (But you)
From: [personal profile] traumaticus
[The duke himself was so focused on his training that he didn't at first notice the pair arriving to the scene. He kept coming at the wooden dummy, coming from different angles and using different strikes, grunting and hissing at each blow. However, his attention strays from his practice when he notices a very familiar white round figure from the corner of his eyes. His expression softens almost immediately and he turns his head to greet his companion and --

Ah. Despite having sent the message along with Whitey he hadn't thought that the knight of beauty actually follow the boar to him. At the most, he expected the man to send a written reply to his letter. But oh well, better to settle this now than prolong it.]


Sir Argenti, [Richard greets, sheathing his sword away and dipping his head slightly.] My heart is overjoyed to see you in such good health. And seeing you hear fills me with hope. Rest assured. My words were true as day.

Date: 2024-09-26 04:26 pm (UTC)
traumaticus: (I'm the paper cut that kills you)
From: [personal profile] traumaticus
[Where does Richard's sincerity begin and end? That is the question, indeed. Because if he were to be completely honest with himself and others the answer would reveal that no, he does not regret nor feel remorse for the actions themselves. And that in fact he had greatly enjoyed from the rush that the battle brought him, the way how his anger and thirst for blood guided him through the darkness towards his next target. It was undeniable fact that there was nothing that calmed his soul quite like the act of violence. The feel of steel in his hand, the hard press of an armor against his slender frame, the scent of battlefield and the taste of fresh blood on his lips. Nothing quite made him feel like home.

But of course, he knew that to disclose such darkness stemming within him would not be smart. Not when he still hasn't formed a proper footing in this community. So, for now he just hums and side-steps the first question. For now.]


I do not know Idrila and my own faith prevents me from recognizing any other God. [He states, summoning hints of sympathy to his voice.] However, it seems like I still have a lot to learn about the other world's and their coexistence. [Then, he turns to sideways and takes a step towards the small nature path leading to the woods.] Walk with me, please. I would like to hear more of your Idrila.