crushed_pearls | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

Arthur picks up a can of his own. "My young and old friend, this is Pepsi. I would say that it's provided here out of genuine love for a very popular drink but the truth of the matter is they paid us quite a bit to serve their products here, and neither bullets nor medicine are free."

Molly actually does choke on her burger and will be a minute with that.

He cracks the can open and takes a slow sip, looking very thoughtful. "...Before I was ever a warrior, or an Ogre, or a king, I was a civic engineer. Roads, bridges, and the systems that manage them were my job and my passion, and through those eyes I see my new duty...differently. Yes, as monarchs go I'm blessed; I rule less than three hundred subjects, and any of them might be contacted directly at the push of a button. Every decision could be down to me, but the thing about all systems is they're only perfect until people use them. In the moment, every decision has to be down to the people actually there, and so I've chosen to invest in helping mine be their best selves. My job is not to arrange them as pieces on a board, but to be their support, their example, their advisor in times of trouble. Sure, I command the field of battle, but I can't be there to make their choices for them if they see a child playing in the street, a monster slipping into an alley, if they witness injustice and pain. If you see?"

"Yes. No matter the position - even a king has only as much power as their people believe they do. That's often forgotten."

He's supposed to be eating something. Um. There aren't many vegetable, non-meat-substitute options around, but there is bread. Hard to go wrong with bread. Glancing at the surrounding tables the butter is in individual foil-wrapped pats, which seems wasteful, but alright.

"To know every one of your subjects personally -- even if not closely -- that is enviable. Though ... does it not weigh on you even more? In decisions like this, for example."

Dimitri gestures at the festival at large, the crowd, the stadium (the sheer scale of this place is boggling). "You said there were objections to making the feast public. Sure enough, there are those outside eager to hurt you and yours. But there are good reasons to open the feast, as well, and in the end the decision had to be made -- I suppose what I mean is that some decisions about the, the structure of the system in play, must still come down to your Majesty, mustn't they? If your role is to set an example, you must decide what sort of example you wish to set. And when everyone watching you is a familiar face ... you're better able to know what they might think, what they might need, but at the same time, it seems like a terrible personal pressure."

He pauses. His flush deepens. "I -- I apologize, your Majesty, that was all terribly presumptuous of me."

Dimitri please if you're avoiding meat just say something they have so much stuff available. The noodle varieties alone, sir, the NOODLES -

Arthur forgives Dimitri with a wave of his hand. "These are the sorts of questions more aspiring leaders among the Lost should be asking. They're reasonable questions, and they get at the heart of power that many ignore, or fail to recognize; not only do my people have needs, but I have needs as well - both as a person and as a figurehead. No king reigns alone, and if I simply run roughshod over the subjects who help me exercise my power...well, no decisions will be up to me then." The stony Ogre chuckles at his own not-joke. "To say nothing of the rotating nature of the Crown. In less than thirty days, Zoe Morris -" here he gently directs Dimitri's attention to a table that has a frosty, Autumnal air, and specifically to a woman busy feeding the bird on her shoulder cuts of raw meat.

"- will be queen, and after her will be Misery Monroe, and then Ramona Rabbit. The push and pull of incentives in our little system would be fascinating to write about if I didn't live in it." Arthur sets his currently empty plate down (it will not stay empty) so he can rest his cheek against his fist; the same gesture Erin makes so often, down to the angle of his head. "But, given the chance to choose...I think I'd like to know my vassals by name. Yes, the pressure is immense; certainly, the risk of personal attachment and choices motivated by it is real. But...we had a bright and distant sun king here, not all that long ago. I've had to pick up the pieces of that king's fall. I wouldn't wish that bitter work on anyone else."

"T-thank you, your Majesty, that -- that means a great deal." Dimitri perks up under the praise. Bit by bit, he's beginning to relax, lured out by the special interest like a stray cat smelling fish. Arthur's last point has him swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, but it's dismay, not fear.

"The loss of a monarch brings chaos even under the best of circumstances. To heal the shock of a sudden fall ... " Dimitri lets out a long, slow breath. "That's bitter work, indeed. I'm sorry. May -- "

He catches himself, with another glance at Erin. Should he know this? Will he give something away if he admits he doesn't? He's already begun, so he may as well finish --

"May I ask what happened?"

Edited 2023-05-04 03:32 (UTC)

"It's no big secret or tale of high betrayal." Arthur sighs. "...I don't want to speak ill of King Leo. I really do not; he ruled Summer with genuine fervor, doing real good for the Freehold's defense. If I have criticisms of his reign it's because I have to clean up after it, but he died as a Summer king ought to; he stayed behind to hold the line against the Wild Hunt, and was torn apart by its briarwolves. When we went to recover the body..." Arthur smiles and shakes his head. "The Huntsman keeps twelve coursers. There were fourteen dead briarwolves. Wild ones had jumped in, smelling fear, and he wrung the life from their necks. Amazing warrior, bit of a fucking asshole."

'Molly' had just gotten done choking on her burger and is now busy choking on her Mountain Dew. Arthur shares a look of sly mischief with Dimitri.

"Leo managed everything personally, you understand. He did not have subjects, he had tools and weapons; increasingly, mainly weapons. I can't fault him for putting the military defense of the Freehold above everything else, that's...that's the job, that's being King in Summer. I just wish he'd taken the stick from his rear during any of the other nine months of the year."

"An honorable death." Spoken with the tone of someone who's not sure those words ever belong together. "He sounds like one of the kings of legend. I've always wondered how they'd rule off the battlefield."

Dimitri picks at his bread, assembling his next words carefully.

" ... I was raised by soldiers, your Majesty. My father was a c-commander, and it was expected I'd take up his post when the time came. I was taught that honor is made and proven in battle, and justice is delivered in death. But that did nothing for those who were cold and starving -- those who lost homes and families -- those whose pain and desperation drove them to, to terrible deeds -- and when 'justice' was misdirected or wholly corrupt t-there could be no true justice for those slaughtered in its name. I loved my father, but ... I think he and your King Leo would have gotten along. And I was raised in his image."

Dimitri looks up sharply, a bright, earnest gleam in his eyes. "Which is why I'd hoped to speak with you, your Majesty. Roads? Sewers? Aqueducts? These things help people to live. They may not be the stuff of legend, not as, as immediately impressive as glory on the battlefield, but ... it seems to me that to build something lasting is a far greater achievement for a king than proving an effective killer." His shoulders sink; the feverish gleam in his eye softens. "It's the kind of person I'd like to be."

"A worthy future," Arthur agrees. "These days I help political campaigns for that sort of thing; I can't exactly just build a bridge, even if I had time." A wistful look crosses his granite face. "You certainly have the right idea. So much of my current rule is just...trying to get people to treat each other better. In little ways and -"

There's a commotion at the wooden structure. Erin - the Erin of the past that is - and a knightly lass made all of stained glass are ascending it.

"- big ones," Arthur finishes with a sigh. "I hate to cut this short but those gay idiots are going to draw blood on national TV and I've got damage control to run on that. Spring Court, always with the drama. Love it, but...the drama."

Dimitri can't blanch in his current state, but his expression freezes. At any other time he'd have at least a little admiration to spare for Colors's whole aesthetic, but right now he can hear all of his blood and his immediate all-consuming priority is to get away. "O-of course, your Majesty. Thank you for your counsel, I'm immeasurably grateful." Nervous reflex drives him to stand and bow as Arthur gets up, which is just as well because it means he's already standing when he casts a desperate look at 'Molly'. "E -- M-molly, can we -- my deepest apologies," to the rest of the table, "but it would be best if we stepped away for a moment."

Erin leads Dimitri off without an explanation, and no one asks for one. The worst he gets are understanding looks; everyone here has moments like this. Once they're out of earshot she murmurs, "Way I figure it we've got two options. Those plastic things are portable bathrooms; not as nice as the ship, better than an outhouse, but they won't block sound. Or we could duck into the rift."

You mind if I call off training for a while? I think everyone needs the break.

You are not wrong but let me know when you want it again. The routine is nice.

Texts the lass who's going to collapse in the Promenade before the month is out.

You might need to kick my ass back into gear. Don’t know when, but eventually.

Texts the guy whose circadian rhythm is currently oscillating wildly.

They're reaching levels of self-care formerly only known to the kind of nasty-ass liches who live in tombs and don't have a guy to scrub their bones with a brush.

I will hold you to it. Try not to be a stranger in the meantime though. Maybe we can mug Security for the aux cord and watch something on the big screen I dunno.

"mug" like we aren't going to make it watch with us?

Upgrading to kidnapping immediately I like how you think

Something amazing has appeared today and I want to show it to you.

Is it a formal apology from the entire United States for the state of our mutual lives? Also where should I meet you

I'll bring it to our room. It is not as good as an apology from the country, but it will serve for now.

Eh the apology would just be bullshit anyway. I will meet you there.

This proves remarkably easy. Erin just.

Gets out of her Hollow where she's working and hops into the shower in the hopes of not being all sweaty and smelly when Helena gets back. By God this will be one of the fastest scrubs of her life.

When she arrives at the cabin, she unlocks the door, bringing in the case with her and setting it on the bed. She's full of smiles, heaving it up and plopping it down, unlatching it to reveal the typewriter therein - the supplies tucked under it, and she strokes a hand over the keys like a friend.

That there is an amaranth bloom in the case as well has not slipped her notice, but it is not the grand reveal.

Erin gets out of the shower with fresh clothes on, still toweling her hair off, and smiles when she sees that Helena has arrived with a new...something. "Afternoon, little bird. You seem excited about something."

"I am, I am! Come to the bed, I put it there - you can feel it for yourself. It's a typewriter, but it writes in braille - it writes like me!"

There were such devices, she knew of, and the future doubtlessly held them, but to have one right here, before her? It's incredible, it makes her want to bubble over with glee, it means such things for her writing. She's already incredibly fast, but she can be even faster.

"Oh my god!"

Helena.

Helena my lass.

Helena I need you to understand that Erin is squealing like a schoolgirl who just saw her favorite celebrity.

Helena it's a sound of such pure joy.

"I know!"

She giggles, practically bouncing off her feet - the joy pours off her in waves, the excitement for this new device filling her up to the top.

"And that's not all - it has paper, it has everything I'd need to write officially, not just in my notebooks. And it even came with something just as precious - a real flower."

This is said in a tone of reverence, of someone beholding a sacred object. Flowers are rare here, and Helena still treasures every scrap of nature she can get.

Dimitri recoils from the chemical reek of the portable toilets, shaking his head. "I don't want to leave just yet -- but -- " The thought of returning to the ship is claustrophobic, stifling. He swallows bile, his mouth dry. "Is there someplace we could sit away from the audience?"

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