[Open] My Hearth Is Yours

[judgemewhole]

WHO: James Norrington and You
WHAT: Dining with the Commander
WHEN: Throughout Wintermarch
WHERE: The Great Hall
NOTES: Nothing but 'seriously dude, you're hiding something aren't you?'

Even Templars need to eat.

And drink.

Sometimes they have to do a lot of drinking, honestly, but Norrington kept his portions of wine to a reasonable amount when he had it with his supper. He always dined in the main hall, few times with his men, but often times he came in in alone with papers and letters in which he worked upon while he broke meat and bread off and slipped it into his mouth without thinking. His pen never seemed to stop, as he scripted pages and pages of writing -- before tossing some of them aside and grumpily burning others.

Once and awhile, you could catch him with no papers at all, but a book, his head propped up on his hand and his green eyes distant as he read the words on the page and sipped from his glass of wine.

Comments

[judgemewhole]

James pressed his lips together, folding his hands together then interweaving them. He could protest - he wanted to protest - but in his mind his pride would not allow such a thing. The one thing they had been consistently charged with was their lack of compassion, and their inability to change. Norrington had to fight at the bit every single time someone slapped that in their face, and take it.

But what if the roles were reversed? What if instead, the Templars offered redemption instead of death?

"It would take ...a great deal of planning."

[demonicbeauty]

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy," Ariadne countered. It was a constant refrain, ironically enough, that she heard from Aden. And she was told that he'd gotten it from his father before him, a pioneer in the world of peace and diplomacy.

He'd been executed, if she remembered correctly (and she always did). Beheaded in the public market, outside of Starlight Castle. His final words had been words of peace.

She shrugged. "Think of it like this. Suppose someone you loved very dearly became a blood mage. Wouldn't you appreciate any planning that went into a way to save that person?"

[judgemewhole]

He lifted his eyebrows at that - because he did care deeply for a mage. What would happen if she was forced to go into blood mage? What if she was trapped and needed it for survival, then couldn't stop? It was a ... sobering realization.

"I would appreciate it." He said slowly, still resting his chin on his fingertips.

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne knew immediately that she'd struck a chord. She could hear it in the fluctuations of his pulse.

Whether she meant to or not was a separate issue. But she knew immediately that now was the appropriate time to back off. Too much more and she'd get sanctimonious and preachy.

Clearly, he had things to think about.

"I apologize, my lord," she said, rising from her seat. "I shouldn't be talking about things that are none of my business."

[judgemewhole]

He blinked for a moment, before he waved his hand a little, sighed and sat up. "No, no, it is a good idea ... one that will require work, but it's something I will want to talk to others who have more knowledge about such things."

Someone who could make more sense of these half-mad ramblings, a shifting of power and then what? He would have to see.

"Thank you, Lady Ariande."

[demonicbeauty]

She offered him a graceful curtsy, the ends of her cloak billowing around her. She looked like a bird once again, her long wings neatly tucked at her side. But there was a smile there too. One that was all-too-human.

"Thank you for your time," she said. "And your bread. And if we meet again, please...call me 'Airy.'"

And with a tip of her head, she swept away.

[judgemewhole]

He quirked up a grin at her, before he stood up and bowed to her in turn.

"Only if you call me, James."

He watched her sweep away, and sat back down, his gaze thoughtful.