knightsoflegend | orientation ♔

[ Within minutes of her routine, he's come to a halt at the head of the mat, watching her with critical interest, though he belies nothing of what his estimation of her skills is through his expression. A few other Knights heading in and out of the weapons training areas pause to watch and monitor her as well, some offering whispered commentary to each other, though he stills it all with merely a sharp glance in their direction, that sends them on their way before she finishes.

At her question, he nods. ] Granted.

Thanks.

[Scout leaves sweaty footprints along the floor. She's drenched, frankly. Drinking is a lengthy affair and involves splashing her face with cold water, and then she snags a towel to dry herself somewhat, fingercombing her hair as she comes back with the towel around her shoulders. She doesn't look any the worse for wear, aside from being more disheveled and amazingly sweaty. Not trembling with exertion, or slowed down, or stiff.]

[-actually, she seems more content, though she keeps from smiling while facing him. There's a reason why Jedi Flow is considered a game; it's difficult but, if properly done, exhilarating. Her nervous energy has been burned off, though she's still alert and has glanced at anyone else still watching as if to say "Well?".]

Do you need me to go over anything again?

I think that's quite satisfactory. [ He seems to consider before broaching a question. ]

You've been trained. That much is quite clear. [ It's obviously a question, as much as a statement. Who trained her, and to what end. ]

Yeah.

[She heard that question and stares at him and through him for long moments. The whites show around her eyes. What should she say? What can she say?]

[Eventually the Force in her murmurs. For a moment she could almost swear that Master Maruk stood behind her, saying something, but she can't quite catch it. Still, Scout exhales and steps closer to Sir Solace. She goes to one knee on the mat in a single Flow-like motion, and uses a finger to draw an insignia with her own sweat, then stares intently up at him, all senses alert, that hand near it so it could be smeared away an instant if there's a sudden strongly adverse reaction.]

[Is it godmodding to say there isn't? Because then she stands and speaks quietly, positioning herself so no one else would be able to see her lips moving. The symbol stays, slowly evaporating away on the mat at her feet.]

I'm... a member of an Order a little like this one, but much older. They took me in before I could walk. I... I was in a stage between being an initiate, a child, and achieving Knighthood.

We... well, abstractly we served peace and justice for all beings, we were peacekeepers, we served a higher power. In practice we... worked 'to protect those who cannot protect themselves', that... entire concept. Wherever we could make the difference, halt the conqueror, avert the war, reconcile the factions, find the lost, heal and teach and save... We did.

[Pride and agony builds in her voice, and it gets harder and harder to speak. Scout halts completely.]

[ There's no reaction whatsoever, given that Solace is hardly any kind of pop culture buff...

He seems more interested in her delivery than even in her response. ]

You find it difficult to speak of.

[She nods stiffly, eyes glazed. Scout's voice is half-choked and flat and her accent - vaguely Scottish, faintly British, distinctly neither - thickens to the point where it's a little hard to understand.]

Because I'm one of the last. We're all either dead or in hiding now. There are rewards for turning us in.

[Her eyes focus, welling overbright and burning. They're a moment from spilling over, but she doesn't look away or blink.]

Do you need the details. Sir.

Not unless you believe them necessary.

I don't.

[She passes the end of the towel that's around her shoulders over her face to cover it as she calls on her Jedi discipline, lowering it red-eyed but suddenly steady. Scout clears her throat. Her voice is overly brisk, she might as well be saying "Moving on".]

Another time maybe. Not now. This is another world, far from there, please don't bring it up unless you need to.

[Scout's stance changes, more hip-shot with one knee bent, and she hangs on to an end of the towel with each hand. It's the most teenagery thing she's done so far, though she still sounds focused.]

What will you be needing from me, as my mentor? Are there things I can help you with, sir?

We can always use assistants in the healing rooms... Our organization is too short on clerics these days. [ He offers no explanation as to why. ] But most of our relationship consists of my assisting you, in settling in to your duties here. Adjusting, as it were.

[As a non-healer that's likely orderly work, she thinks, but truth is that concept doesn't feel unfamiliar. Was she doing that before reaching this world...? Scout can't quite remember.] I'd like to do what I may. What are the hours and requirements?

Me? [That's as surprised as she's gotten today.]

You'll do well to work the late night shifts, tending to those who wake, and keeping watch on those recovering. Simple tasks, but we need the extra eyes and hands.

[ He glances at her, as if trying to decide what to make of her incredulity. ]

Do you find something wrong with that arrangement?

I can start tonight.

[Scout purses her lips, and uses a towel end to brush at her arm, where drying sweat is starting to itch.]

- You're a division head, sir. Surely you have more important things to do, if hea- clerics are so needed. I'm just a green squire.

Our green squires represent the future of this organization. If we don't tend to them when they're green, they'll rot through and through rather than thrive.

Yessir. But you said yourself you haven't taken a squire for a long time, and rumor is that division heads get asked rather than assigned. [She doesn't name Sir Fred as the source of the "rumor".] I'm not a healer.

[While she does have a kind of low sense of self-worth, she says it without self-pity. It's a plain statement.]

Rumor will only take you so far. Mind how much stock you put in them.

[Scout shakes her head slightly, but resigns herself.] All right. Just know that I like to ask questions. [She turns away long enough to scoop her discarded hair tie from the mat.]

If I may, sir, when was your last squire, and who?

Six years past. [ There's the tiniest sliver of a moment where he all but hesitates. ] And she has passed as well.

[That hesitation showed in his sense in the Force, too, though if she hadn't been paying attention she would have missed both signs. Scout was about to put her hair back into a short tail; now she lowers her hands, making another internal note about the old Knight.]

Sir...

[should she say this or not? That maybe-offer of kindred feeling, that sense that he does have some humor in him, balanced against his nature... The Force has no guidance here. As so many other times, it's her choice.]

[Say it.]

My mentors... strongly tend to die soon after taking me on. [Kim, Maruk, the entire Temple staff, even Master Solace, for all that she hadn't been specifically interested in teaching after the Temple fell. Scout's voice has thickened a little, but she's in control.] I want [she pauses] it to stop.

[Scout exhales through her mouth, almost a sigh. And here's the part she really wishes she could phrase gracefully, but she can't without thinking longer.] I guess, sir, I would like to say that... if I can without compromising my personal - my ethics, I will strive to stay alive if I know you will do the same.

[ There's a beat, as he seems to process how to take that, and he studies her face as if finding something truly alien about her manner for a moment. But it's not judgmental, and after a moment, he smiles very tightly. ]

I've no plans for permanent retirement as of yet.

[She gazes back steadily, completely without intention to explain, and relaxes a bit at his response, more at the expression than what he actually said. Few people plan for it, after all.]

Thank you, sir.

I would hope it a matter of assumption.

Now, surely you must have more questions regarding our procedures.

[One of Scout's hands, down at her sides, flips palm-forwards for just a second, a kind of tiny shrug.]

I always have questions, sir. I'll need to know about your medicines, since they're not what I'm used to, and if and how they work differently on nonhumans. If there are particular protocols I need to follow, or a uniform. Do they observe holidays he - no, I can look that up myself. How long have you been a division head, if I can ask?

Or other orderlies can train you in such matters. You'll be allowed to shadow them before being expected to attend to the room on your own.

It's preferred for those working this wing to wear simple robes, usually white. I imagine we could find some in your size, readily.

[ A pause ] As to your other question, nearly two score years now.

[She's doing minor stretches now, really not even thinking about it, things like standing with one leg ahead and bent while the other is behind.]

I appreciate it. Are they Knights? ...Is everyone in this castle a Knight? If it's possible, could I have undyed robes? I just... I like the color better, sir, and it doesn't show sweat as much.

A score... that's twenty. You were young when you came into it. [Thinking out loud.]

Almost everyone here is a Knight, but there are others as well, who do some of the more menial labor. Wynn offers employment to some who are refugees of the Shadow World, but ill-equipped for a lifestyle of adventuring and risking their lives.

[ he finds her commentary on his age worthy of a snort ] I knew a great deal less then than I do now. Age does not figure into it.

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