(122-12-17) A Northman's Vigil (Part 2)
A Northman's Vigil (Part 2)
Summary: Loryn comes to speak to Desmond after his vigil.
Date: Date of play (17/12/2015)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-12-17-a-small-request http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-12-17-a-northman-s-vigil-part-1 http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-12-13-targaryen-and-hightower-tourney

Desmond It is just before dawn, the first rays of sunlight beginning to paint the sky in reds and purples. But the stars still glitter in the heavens above, and there is still a chill in the air. Mists coil in the streets, long ribbons of silver running along the gutters and hugging corners, like thieves. In the Sept, candles burn before the Altar of the Warrior. A huge man kneels there, dressed only in a plain woolen shift. A stack of armor lays beside him, its sword-belt atop that. Three daggers of various sizes are stacked above -that-.

Desmond Snow does not speak to the Seven. He sits there, staring at the massive longsword resting across the lap of the Warrior. Every now and then he blinks, shifts, or rubs at his eyes, but he seems to be in a strangely trancelike peace of mind.

Daevon's fasted, keeping vigil too, if not exactly alongside Desmond at least in the sept. As the first rays of light from touch the windows he rises to his feet. Slowly stretching, to loosen up stiff muscles. He approaches where Desmond is, hoping that the man is still awake, has not fallen asleep during this time of reflection.

At the soft sound of footfalls on the stone, Desmond's head rises alertly. It seems he is not asleep, but merely contemplating the steel. He says, quietly, "You ought to have slept," without lifting his head.

Daevon offers Desmond a gentle smile. "I would not expect you to do something I would not. Besides, what if you'd needed me? I know this must be strange."

Desmond smiles crookedly and turns his head to take in Daevon, nodding once. "It's been a strange night," he agrees. "I kept wanting to just…talk.." He gestures to the Altar before him, "..but the rule is that I must sit in silence. How do they hear you, in silence?" It's a strangely naive question from such a rough man.

"You talk to them," Daevon says. "In your head. They can hear that. It gives you time to think as well."

The door creaks open and Loryn Tyrell enters - freshly scrubbed and dressed in finery after a proper night's sleep. He smiles when he sees Desmond in the woollen shift by the altar and Daevon nearby. He's been there before himself. Not sure if they have broken the vigil's silence yet, he remains respectfully silent too.

Desmond nods again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I've thought long," he says, "on the question I asked you last night, before I began the vigil. How to tell if what I do is evil, or good." He smiles slightly, looking up at Daevon from his knees. "It kept me awake, pondering your answer. I told you once, didn't I, that I needed you to be my guide?" He glances toward the sword. "That it's hard for me, oft-times, to see a way through without violence?"

Daevon offers Loryn a warm smile of greeting. He himself has not slept, that much is evident. It is Desmond he speaks to though, his voice kept quiet, respectful. "Did you find the answer? Although I think it's one of those questions that troubles us all, if we're to be good that is. We must think on it. It must trouble us. If we're utterly convinced that everything we do is good, always, never question our actions, that sort of hubris is dangerous. Better to have those doubts and continue to strive. Violence itself is… sometimes it is the best answer. I think it's best not to always be the first one though." He looks to Loryn. "What do you think?"

"This has gone pretty fast.", Loryn smiles at Desmond, "From organizing parties to becoming a knight. I at least had to slay a beast to be knighted.", he jokes lightly and takes a seat in the pew closed to them. "I'm not fond of violence but I agree that sometimes it is unavoidable for the greater good."

Desmond turns his head to follow Daevon's smile and grins up at Loryn. A thick stubble clings to his jaw, black as coal, and his eyes are shadowed from lack of sleep. He reaches up to rasp a thumb along his jaw. "It is quick. I'd not hoped the King would ask me what I wished of him." He pauses, growing a bit more serious. "I'm good at violence. I suppose every man resorts to what he's good at." He looks to where his huge longsword hangs across the lap of the Warrior, then back to Daevon. "What did I decide?"

He mulls over the question. "I decided there's no answer. Not any one answer, anyhow. But I know that when I'm unsure, when I can't decide, I'd do best to follow your lead than cut my own path."

"You take other measures first though." Daevon says. "The Warrior is but one aspect of being a Knight, and one aspect of serving the Seven." He nods at Loryn. "Far faster than I expected. I'd thought we would have months at the very least to guide him in the proper ways of being a Knight. Of course being a Knight is as much about what's in your heart, and Desmond has proved himself with his courage and bravery. He stood between an angry mob and Prince Dhraegon, Lady Marsei, and took blows intended for them. When the dragons appeared, he kept his calm while most others. He was wounded in doing so. He protected the King, and the King has seen fit to reward him for his service. And that it was best done now." He's trying hard not to yawn but one escapes. He nods at Desmond. "You're good at being tall, imposing and intimidating too. Sometimes that serves in place of violence, just the threat of it can resolve a situation. Sometimes pretty words." He nods at Desmond's answer. "Keep thinking on the question. Find the other answers."

Loryn has little else to say after Daevon's big speech, just nodding along from time to time. "It's a long learning process.", he just adds with a little grin, "Been a knight for a year now and I'm still.. asking questions all the time."

"Aye. Other measures first. Words.. and presence, and threat, if needs be. I know how to work those." Desmond smiles slightly, rubbing at the scar on his cheek. "Before, I worked for coin. I fought because I needed to eat. But in the past while, when I haven't been hungry, I've been able to work for other things." He leans forward slightly, touching his fingers to the steel of Giantsblade. "I like it better. I sleep better now than I have in years. I… I think I will be a good knight, Sers. I'll do all I can to protect the weak, and serve the Realm. And in turn, I'll keep sleeping nights without bad dreams."

"I've been a knight what six years now," Daevon says. "And I'm still doing the same." He smiles at Loryn. "And you, Ser, are a knight to be proud of. One to be emulated too." To Desmond he says. "You wouldn't do wrong sometimes asking yourself what would Ser Loryn Tyrell do. What does being a Knight mean to you?" he asks Loryn. To Desmond's words he nods. "I am glad to hear that."

Daevon's compliments make Loryn look sheepish. "I'm not sure I'm someone to emulate. But thank you all the same.", he tell Daevon. His eyes drift around the cold sept and then back at the two men. "Are you staying here longer? I could have a nice breakfast served up at Garden Isle…"

Desmond looks up at one of the windows, where the first light of dawn is beginning to break. "I'll start my walk soon," he says quietly to Loryn. "An hour or so. I'm to meet the King on the steps of the Hightower. But afterward…oh, I'd be well-pleased." He reaches to rub the side of his neck lightly, and looks aside at Daevon. "I do promise, Your Grace, to ask myself every time it's violence I want to serve out — would Loryn Tyrell approve?" He smiles suddenly, looking at Loryn. "I expect that'll keep Giantsblade in its sheath often enough, and a good thing, too."

Daevon laughs at that question. "You can't live your life asking if Loryn would approve every decision anymore than you can ask if I would. You do need to find your own way. But it's not a bad place to begin." He smiles at Loryn's offer of breakfast. "Thank you for the offer."

Loryn chuckles softly. "Giantsblade is not the only thing to keep sheated if you want to stay out of trouble.", he winks playfully and gets to his feet. "Alright, I'll go back and give orders to have a breakfast prepared. Then I will come and watch the ceremony and take you with me afterwards. We'll have a little celebration in the Grand Hall."

Desmond grins lewdly back at Loryn, then glances around in sudden concern, as though he expects Septons to descend upon him with brooms and beat him out of the Sept. After stifling his grin, he nods to Daevon, quite seriously. "I'll remember." There are so many things to remember. His big shoulders square back, and he rasps again at the stubble that has grown up.

Daevon lets the lewdness and double entendres sail right over him. No, he is the Maiden Knight, the perfect picture of innocence and chastity. "Thank you Loryn." He repeats. "And thank you for speaking with Desmond."

"See you later then." Loryn starts to leave, then turns back to grin at Desmond again. "Good luck with the king. I heard he doesn't take it well when someone pukes on his polished boots out of sheer nervosity." And, having rattled Desmond a little, he heads out.

Desmond gazes after Loryn, going a shade paler than he had been. "…Has that happened? Puking on the King's boots?" The very idea of it seems to make Desmond nervous.

"Don't think about it," Daevon says. "Besides you've been fasting all night." Perhaps there's more than one reason for that. "If you can brave battle you can brave this."

Desmond frowns a bit at this. "Battle's easy," he protests. "You just hold the line, or charge, or rally the lads, or break the shieldwall." He gazes at the sword before him. "But facing a king's hard. I thought I'd faint."

"You won't," Daevon says. "You're made of sterner stuff."

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