Arturia Pendragon (Saber) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
invisibleheir) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wilderlogs2018-05-23 02:15 pm
invisibleheir) wrote in wilderlogs2018-05-23 02:15 pm
Entry tags:
Look upon my works, ye mighty...
I. Camping is fun for the whole family
[ The refuge of the library is a welcome one after the wearying battle on Weathertop. Arturia feels tired in a way that she cannot place--she hasn't felt this bone tired in years. The troubles of incarnating into a human body, she supposes. Once the group has found its way into the library, she can be found helping to set up camp and making the more seriously injured comfortable, collecting wood for fires, moving book-cases and other furniture to help fortify the camp, or simply sitting at a fire staring into the flames with an intense look that suggests she is thinking of something far away. Her demeanor is... a bit harsh, but she seems open to chatting with anyone who comes by. As long as they're respecful, anyway.
Alternatively, Arturia seems to have a hard time knowing her limits and she'll push herself helping with the camp until she literally collapses from exhaustion. It's an unfortunate thing, since it means helping her into a bedroll so she can try and rest after the exhausting phsyical demands of the last few days. ]
II. ... and despair
[ One thing that doesn't happen when you're a Heroic Spirit is dreaming. She's been in a waking state for so long that sleep has become strange to her and having simply collapsed into a deep sleep, she sleeps like the dead. For a while. In her dreams, the Battle of Camlann plays over again. She struggles against Mordred and his army until she stands over a battlefield of broken bodies and tattered banners, Mordred glaring up at her. Then, they clash and in one instant she drives her spear through the traitor's body at the same instant as his blade catches her side.
The shock of the pain in her dreams jolts her into wakefulness and she sits up, panting and in a cold sweat--it could be the middle of the night or just early morning, but her cry is probably loud enough to wake any one else still sleeping. She takes a few deep breaths, seeming only now to realize that she's not, in fact, at Camlann or that strange place between life and death where she had waited to be summoned. She slumps over, sweat trickling down her bro, tries her best to get her breathing under control. ]
III. Exploring
[ After resting, Arturia takes time to delve into the library, following the stacks deeper and deeper into a strange realm that seems almost dreamlike. Once or twice, she catches a glimpse of the owl or the orangutan but never seems to get close enough to investigate further. The fox spirits intrigue her and she watches them from a distance, shushing anyone who tries to interfere with them.
She can be found perusing books taken from the shelves, reading over strange tomes in lost languages and occasionally flipping through an extremely damaged encylopedia. Once, it's even a battered copy Le Morte d'Arthur. She shakes her head as she reads it, though whether it's amusement or consternation is hard to tell. Arturia keeps her cards close to her chest. ]
[ The refuge of the library is a welcome one after the wearying battle on Weathertop. Arturia feels tired in a way that she cannot place--she hasn't felt this bone tired in years. The troubles of incarnating into a human body, she supposes. Once the group has found its way into the library, she can be found helping to set up camp and making the more seriously injured comfortable, collecting wood for fires, moving book-cases and other furniture to help fortify the camp, or simply sitting at a fire staring into the flames with an intense look that suggests she is thinking of something far away. Her demeanor is... a bit harsh, but she seems open to chatting with anyone who comes by. As long as they're respecful, anyway.
Alternatively, Arturia seems to have a hard time knowing her limits and she'll push herself helping with the camp until she literally collapses from exhaustion. It's an unfortunate thing, since it means helping her into a bedroll so she can try and rest after the exhausting phsyical demands of the last few days. ]
II. ... and despair
[ One thing that doesn't happen when you're a Heroic Spirit is dreaming. She's been in a waking state for so long that sleep has become strange to her and having simply collapsed into a deep sleep, she sleeps like the dead. For a while. In her dreams, the Battle of Camlann plays over again. She struggles against Mordred and his army until she stands over a battlefield of broken bodies and tattered banners, Mordred glaring up at her. Then, they clash and in one instant she drives her spear through the traitor's body at the same instant as his blade catches her side.
The shock of the pain in her dreams jolts her into wakefulness and she sits up, panting and in a cold sweat--it could be the middle of the night or just early morning, but her cry is probably loud enough to wake any one else still sleeping. She takes a few deep breaths, seeming only now to realize that she's not, in fact, at Camlann or that strange place between life and death where she had waited to be summoned. She slumps over, sweat trickling down her bro, tries her best to get her breathing under control. ]
III. Exploring
[ After resting, Arturia takes time to delve into the library, following the stacks deeper and deeper into a strange realm that seems almost dreamlike. Once or twice, she catches a glimpse of the owl or the orangutan but never seems to get close enough to investigate further. The fox spirits intrigue her and she watches them from a distance, shushing anyone who tries to interfere with them.
She can be found perusing books taken from the shelves, reading over strange tomes in lost languages and occasionally flipping through an extremely damaged encylopedia. Once, it's even a battered copy Le Morte d'Arthur. She shakes her head as she reads it, though whether it's amusement or consternation is hard to tell. Arturia keeps her cards close to her chest. ]