[Hendrik doesn't outright refuse Jasper's request, instead crouching next to the sleeping platypunk and patting its crest. Then he gathers it up in his arms and steps out, watching the monster warble-snort and go back to sleep.]
There should not be anything in there keeping you from storing your armor. I will put Quis down and return.
Delighted to hear it. Put him on my bed if you cannot find another.
[Nothing lies in his way. He descends to one knee and positions his chainmail: up the far end of the closet against the wall. His journey to the lounge sees him return with his boots and those go beside them in the corner. Sabatons and graves, faulds and gauntlets. Each piece is collected and settled in a new home.
Each collection takes time. By the end he is standing by the door and looking upstairs. A hopeful glimpse of his old friend would be nice - and soon his voice can be heard from downstairs.]
[The platypunk stirs sleepily as Hendrik climbs the stairs, but there are no complaints as he goes into his room and sets his familiar on the bed. It's not the usual place he tends to sleep, preferring smaller spaces like closets or boxes or curled into the armchair in the living room, but it works.
...He really should have asked if his familiar wanted an actual bed. Something to work on in the future.
Remembering what he had said about having something to put away, Hendrik goes to his wardrobe to pull out the Shield of Heliodor. Its considerable size always made it difficult to put more things in his wardrobe, but he did not want to have it somewhere more ... in view.
He heads back to the stairs upon hearing Jasper's call, descending with the shield carried across one arm.]
[Eyes sight the armour slung over Hendrik's arm. They widen in recognition before narrowing immediately. Niggling doubts swirl like fog; delusions about being overlooked and judged unworthy. He has lost his right to be recognised as a hero so why does it bother him to the point of pain?
He refuses to move and forces his emotions to reduce to a state of neutrality - voice included.]
Do you not want to tell me why that is in your possession?
[Even though he expected the question, Hendrik still pauses as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He shifts the shield to look at its front with a frown.]
I do not know. It was among my possessions when I arrived here, and I was not about to leave it for someone else to pick up.
[With a shake of his head, he walks closer to the storage space.]
[Hendrik steps forward and prompts him to step backward. He turns his shoulder and perches his fingers on his hips, wrapped up in investigating the shield. His lips press into a line at the thought of it landing in Hendrik's possession. He does not know but it seems even fate decides he should not be the man who wields it.]
[Hendrik tilts his head at the conclusion, considering it for a moment before shaking his head.]
No. It has remained in my wardrobe the entire time -- even before you deigned to live here. It is not mine to wield, and I would not want to use it anyway.
I would not have expected that answer from you one time.
[His voice is tinged with regret. He remembers speaking of the shield; explaining its reputation and history and all it symbolises. Now they cannot hope for such things.]
Are you not excited by the prospect or is such honour too much for you?
[Hendrik swears his unworthiness and soothes his disappointed anger. His curled fists unclench and he steps back from the door. Eyes direct to the floor. That his friend feels unworthy for the honour of bearing the shield yet adored the adoration of the people in those difficult years? It is hard to stomach.
He closes his eyes. Perhaps he ought not care about any of it.]
Perhaps it came from a better time.
[That idea makes it bearable even should it be false.]
But it is a dishonour and a waste to leave it under the stairs.
[Hendrik pauses, brows drawing together in confusion at Jasper's words. He would have thought Jasper would understand why the shield should be put away.]
[Jasper remains cold and calm in the face of confusion. Hendrik is a modest and honest man who cannot understand why a nation's pride ought not be locked away. He almost feels it his job to educate the man.]
I have no right to display it for my personal benefit. It matters more for you. I mean, would it not be unbecoming to lock a part of Heliodor's history in the broom closet?
[Hendrik slowly nods, accepting Jasper's answer for what it is. He sets the shield next to the armor, illuminated by the little light under the staircase, and stands up.]
[Hands cross across his stomach. Fingers ball into fists and hide beneath his arms. He bows his head, looks down and away and hesitates for a moment before dragging his feet back towards the lounge. Misery is all he can expect, really. Why hope for better?
He doesn't listen to the voice telling him there is good in this. He cannot ignore it, though. The thought of having his armour next to the shield? It's a unity of sorts.
He wrinkles his nose and begins cleaning up his polishing kit.]
[There is no happiness or contentedness in looking at the armor slid out of sight. He clicks the light off, staring at the shadows for a moment longer before shutting the door with a quiet thump.
A closed chapter. A somber finality.
He tries to remind himself that there is hope as long as there is life, but it rings hollow -- whether it be because of the state or their world or the nature of Avalon, he does not know.
With a shake of his head, he leaves the hallway to prepare a meal.]
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[Hendrik doesn't outright refuse Jasper's request, instead crouching next to the sleeping platypunk and patting its crest. Then he gathers it up in his arms and steps out, watching the monster warble-snort and go back to sleep.]
There should not be anything in there keeping you from storing your armor. I will put Quis down and return.
no subject
[Nothing lies in his way. He descends to one knee and positions his chainmail: up the far end of the closet against the wall. His journey to the lounge sees him return with his boots and those go beside them in the corner. Sabatons and graves, faulds and gauntlets. Each piece is collected and settled in a new home.
Each collection takes time. By the end he is standing by the door and looking upstairs. A hopeful glimpse of his old friend would be nice - and soon his voice can be heard from downstairs.]
Any time today, Hendrik?
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...He really should have asked if his familiar wanted an actual bed. Something to work on in the future.
Remembering what he had said about having something to put away, Hendrik goes to his wardrobe to pull out the Shield of Heliodor. Its considerable size always made it difficult to put more things in his wardrobe, but he did not want to have it somewhere more ... in view.
He heads back to the stairs upon hearing Jasper's call, descending with the shield carried across one arm.]
I lost track of time, I suppose.
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He refuses to move and forces his emotions to reduce to a state of neutrality - voice included.]
Do you not want to tell me why that is in your possession?
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I do not know. It was among my possessions when I arrived here, and I was not about to leave it for someone else to pick up.
[With a shake of his head, he walks closer to the storage space.]
It has remained in my wardrobe the entire time.
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You mean you hid it from me.
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No. It has remained in my wardrobe the entire time -- even before you deigned to live here. It is not mine to wield, and I would not want to use it anyway.
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[His voice is tinged with regret. He remembers speaking of the shield; explaining its reputation and history and all it symbolises. Now they cannot hope for such things.]
Are you not excited by the prospect or is such honour too much for you?
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I cannot say there is any ... excitement in the prospect of wielding it. I would never feel worthy of the honor.
[He shakes his head and moves over so he can crouch and set the shield in the storage space as well.]
To be perfectly honest, I thought the shield lost when the castle fell. I do not know where this was found -- if it was found in our own time.
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He closes his eyes. Perhaps he ought not care about any of it.]
Perhaps it came from a better time.
[That idea makes it bearable even should it be false.]
But it is a dishonour and a waste to leave it under the stairs.
[Like his armour? Well...]
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What do you mean? There is no use for it.
[And he is certainly not going to use it.]
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I have no right to display it for my personal benefit. It matters more for you. I mean, would it not be unbecoming to lock a part of Heliodor's history in the broom closet?
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[He doesn't see the big deal.]
The Kingdom of Heliodor is not here, Jasper.
[And what pride is there to being a knight slowly failing to protect his decimated kingdom?]
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[A Kingdom can exist beyond its borders.]
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[A genuine question. He understands what Jasper is saying, but the "people" for him had been the Princess and the Dark-- Luminary.]
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No. But I assure you I would not deny the circumstances of my birth.
[It is hardly simple to filter his birthright with a yes and no answer.]
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Then the shield can remain here.
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He doesn't listen to the voice telling him there is good in this. He cannot ignore it, though. The thought of having his armour next to the shield? It's a unity of sorts.
He wrinkles his nose and begins cleaning up his polishing kit.]
no subject
A closed chapter. A somber finality.
He tries to remind himself that there is hope as long as there is life, but it rings hollow -- whether it be because of the state or their world or the nature of Avalon, he does not know.
With a shake of his head, he leaves the hallway to prepare a meal.]