onepassingnight | ♔ 1| It's Only A Dream...

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♔ 1| It's Only A Dream...

[Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince and unofficial regent of Camelot is dreaming of tournaments.

This in itself isn't the least bit odd, what is odd, is how the dream in question is unfolding.

For one thing, Father is in the stands dressed in - of all things - a jesters hat!

Merlin is standing beside Arthur and is handing him what should be his sword, but it's not, it's just a sad looking tree branch! And waiting to face him on the field of battle is Guinevere! Who looks quite fetching in armour, but considering the sword she's brandishing is real, the whole thing is all together unsettling.

Granted, Arthur's had a lot on his shoulders and has been forced to get by on little sleep, but this...this is just ridiculous!

And somehow, there's a nagging feeling that things are about to get a lot more ridiculous.]

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[It does. See that kid with white hair and a confused expression on his face looking around the place?

He happens to have no idea what is going on here, but he's pretty sure it's something set in the Medieval Ages. Never let it be said he doesn't do his research (although it's more picked up from comic books than actual research material).]

[Arthur is currently trying to get Merlin to get him a sword when he notices the newcomer.

He might just stare, because white haired kids in bizarre clothing are not really the expected sight in Camelot.]

...What the hell's going on here?

[It's...supposed to be a tournament, right? Doesn't seem like one. For example, sticks are not supposed to be used as swords.]

"A tournament," [Arthur finds himself answering, which is rather odd because he should be concentrating more on what he's going to do about his lack of a weapon.]

"What country do you come from?"

[He smirks in response. It's not quite "who are you", but he'll take what he can get.]

Muhahahaha! I am the Overlord and Dean of Evil Academy! And since this is a tournament...

[He withdraws a very large sword from its sheath. Tremble, because it's bigger than he is and yet he's managing to lift it just fine.]

I challenge you!

[Well, Arthur won't tremble because he's a manly man, but his eyes will widen. That sword is enormous.]

"I only have this twig!" [He objects holding up the paltry branch.] "You can't challenge me."

So? I don't care about that! Are you scared or something?

[Besides, he's seen worse things used as swords.]

[Scared? Arthur Pendragon? Never!]

"No, I just prefer a fair fight, but...if you're so uncertain of your own skill that you need to be overarmed that's up to you."

[He certain is brave, if a bit foolish...]

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[And waiting for her turn after Gwen is another sword-wielding girl. This one has blue hair, a short-skirted uniform that's simply scandalous, she seems quite familiar with her weapon. Her expression is outright eager for the battle.]

[Arthur will gape at the girl, it's hard to tell what's more bizarre, the hair or the lack of clothing.

It's strange enough he might just demand, to no-one in particular.] "What's going on here?!"

You're going to be defeated by me. [She sounds quite confident of this. Her sword glints in the light; it looks translucent, almost like crystal - or ice.]

[Guinevere has disappeared and Arthur still has only a branch to defend himself so it looks like that may well be the case.]

"You can't challenge me, I'm not properly armed!" [There is a knight's code after all.]

[Oh. Is that the problem?]

Have you forgotten this is a tournament?

[But even as she speaks, her sword simply vanishes as she allows it to dissipate.]

Now it's the same for both of us. Right?

[The sword suddenly disappearing is enough to make Arthur's jaw drop, his eyes dart to his father, but he seems to be enmersed in tingling the bells on the jester's hat.

He decides to question this strange girl.]

"You're magic?"

[He can always comfort himself with the fact it's just a dream when he wakes up. He can even believe that the disappearing sword was only a quirk of the dream world.

Until she confirms it. Why should she hide who she is? Her smirk stays in place.]

Shall we begin?

[The expression hardens.] I won't let you take me lightly as your opponent.

[What precisely is he meant to do here? Crash tackle her? He can't believe the crowd won't look upon him poorly for that.

Not to mention another problem...]

"How will I know you won't use your magic on me?"

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[Bobby wanders in, holding a turkey leg that he's chowing down. He looks at the branch and looks over at Guinevere.]

Not looking good for ya buddy.

[Arthur turns quickly, brandishing the branch (hey you could probably still do some damage with it.)]

"Who -? Where did you get that?" [He points to the turkey leg.]

[Bobby gives the branch some berth and raises his eyebrows. Yeah, some damage all right. He takes another bite out of his turkey leg. Chews before answering.]

Hmm. Don't remember. Tastes good though.

[Arthur shakes his head, he has no idea why he asked that, it's really not important.]

"Who are you? You're not from Camelot." [Obviously, what this bizarre clothes this stranger is wearing.]

[Bobby takes a break from his leg to glance around.]

Is that what this place is? I thought I was in some Renaissance fair. I'm not am I? Are you pretending this is Camelot?

"Pretending? There's no pretending about it." [Arthur looks quite outraged at the suggestion.] "I am Arthur, Prince of Camelot, which just goes to show how real it is."

[Bobby's lucky Arthur only has a tree branch otherwise things could get ugly.]

[Bobby just nods, unconcerned about the tree branch. He finishes off his turkey leg and tosses the bone.]

All right then, Artie. Is that all right? I know an Artie, he's cool. Still looks like that chick is going to kick your ass.

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[don't ask.

Cloud is wandering through the crowds in the stands. He's got a huge wicker basket on his back and a small tray of rough wood in his hands. He's also, inexplicably, wearing a tattered black cloak that looks a bit like a monk's robe - if a monk was very, very drunk and couldn't quite figure out what a monk's robe was supposed to look like. The cowl though is pushed back to reveal the tell tale spikes of blond with a strange, cheap white paper cap of questionable make stuffed down among them. After making an exchange which consists of throwing a bright colored bag of white and red stripes three rows down and picking up the waving money on the way past, he ambles over to where Arther is. The tray gets presented for browsing.]

Get 'em while they're hot.

[it's more of a bored grunt than anything else. The tray has several varieties on it, each sample ready to be wrapped in it's own colorful bag and tossed to a paying customer. Who knew there were such clean samples of still fresh looking lopped off fingers and toes for sale today?]

Edited 2011-09-03 05:17 (UTC)

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