Quest of a Nameless Knight
13th of March 2007 A.D.
Will and power straining with the effort you reach again for answers, how far to push and what to stand firm, what posture would move the one before you to flight or violence. "I am here to help and get to know you. I have made a point of getting to know all the Princes of the Earth..."
Lost 1 Willpower (TTC)
No flicker of recognition in those in the one visible eye at the sound of alien syllables. You could make him understand of course, but
that every instinct screams would be a mistake. So you scoop up some snow with a brass mug the framework of monocular wire embedded within it already starting to hum until the water melts at a speed just shy of flash boiling and continue: "...and the best way to do that is help them with their first self appointed mission."
"Why?" He rasps. God how you wish Lydia was here, not for her authority over the dead, but for her simple understanding of the pain they suffer.
All you can do is your best. A self-heating sponge-blanket designed by the Hand to let its agents warm without being observable in infrared is by barest definition a tool, enough for you to conjure and hand over, careful, but insistent. To the suspicious mind too much cajoling can seem a trap after all and to the proud compassion can be confused for an accusation of weakness.
"You know why." You look at him seriously. "Same reason I couldn't see you just now, same reason I'm flying."
"Power." Again one word. You wonder if that might not be to keep from shivering with the cold, he is certainly dressed in the same warm underlayer and water proof outer layer as the people back at the station, but you can't imagine his dip in the ocean helped with retaining either of those qualities.
"
New power," you correct then warn frankly. "There are beings aplenty more powerful than us, but they are bound to their natures."
He laughs... and seems surprised when you ignore it, still holding out the blanket. "First, let's get you at least some warmth - chosen of death or not, you have to be cold?"
"How old are you?" From the tone the question almost seems like it had been startled out of him in place of some more cogent, maybe harsher.
For a long moment you don't answer until he finally takes the blanket in one hand the mug in the other, seemingly surprised by their head, or maybe just by the fact that are solid at all since you had made no attempt to hide the conjuring. Once the former is around his shoulders and the other raises to his lips to drink you answer honestly: "Eighteen."
It's not that you tried to get him to sputter, it is kind of funny that he did it and so the smile that curves your lips is entirely sincere, even as it was also planned, just in case he has some means to see truth from falsehood.
"So about those fomor?"
"Who are you?"
The questions come almost at the same time, but after a moment to prove you are not
too eager you answer: 'Molly Carpenter. That's two personal questions you asked me so far.'
"I'm not the one who flew up and started talking."
You quirk an eyebrow, waiting as the wind picks up, the subtle hiss of ice grinding against ice as it has done for millions upon millions of years on this nameless incline.
"Twenty seven," he gives the age that was in his files, though of course not a name. "Look kid I appreciate the..."
"When you look at me is that word the first that pops into your mind, even the hundredth?" you cut in.
"
No." The Chosen of the Grave admits, though he doesn't say what does. He falls silent then, for longer than any of his previous silences. "Go... fly I guess back to the station. You don't want to go where I'm going."
Oh great, trying to protect me. At least you have quite a bit of experience with that. Instead of the obvious question though you ask: "What are you doing?"
"My job, my actual job not what those... What did you call them? Fomori asses wanted me to do. I am going to get some answers and after that stop it... if I can that is."
"Stop what?"
"The Awakening." You can hear the capital letter in the word and it does not make a good hearing. He looks you over carefully for some sign of recognition, but you already decided to play this straight.
With a shake of your head that sends whirling snow-flakes caught in it from the wind aflutter you admit: "Doesn't ring any bells."
"It is what they call the day when their masters will rise and rule over the land once more. Nameless things or maybe things you
shouldn't name. I got the word out at least, but maybe now I can do more. After all..." he gives an unsettling smile. "Now I'm nameless too."
Molly Essence 7/18
Molly Willpower 5/9
What do you do?
[] Offer to help, even if you don't know all the details this sounds right up your alley
[] Ask who he got the word to, a delicate subject since they are likely to be in danger from the fomori, but it should fill in the gaps in your understanding
[] Write in
OOC: Enjoy