Tired and Alone

The church has a higher role in Camelot now that the pagan gods and their Druids have been firmly thrust from Camelot's hearth. So whether you are here to visit a lost one in the grave or the crypt, or just to bare your soul to the waiting Priest, the Chapel takes up a large space in the upper town and is hard to miss.

Tired and Alone

Lucius Stark
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Lucius Stark
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Joined: Jun 25 2011, 08:55 PM

Jan 25 2012, 02:30 AM #1

It had been at least three days since Lucius had actually slept through the night. His mind was plagued with worry and thoughts of his brothers back in Carmarthen. He wanted so badly to find a quick solution to their problem – any solution actually – but so far, he’d been unsuccessful. Even though he received periodic letters from them explaining that they were alright for the time being and that their father hadn’t come after them – or at the very least he hadn’t found them yet, this didn’t make Lucius feel any better. But he’d long since run out of ideas and simply didn’t know what to do anymore.

Of course, the fact that Lucius had no close companions – or friends of any kind really – in Camelot was making things even more difficult. With no one to talk to about his problems, he spent his days brooding and miserable. He was beginning to get thoroughly frustrated, both with himself and with the entire situation.

Thus, wanting to talk to someone, anyone, and being unable to come up with any other options, Lucius had slowly made his way to the chapel. He was never an extremely religious man, but he’d been raised knowing the church and God – at least in some superficial sense. This was the last place he ever thought he’d go for help. Truthfully, he didn’t know what help could be found in this so-called house of God.

Having arrived at the chapel, Lucius and stopped just outside the door. Looking up, taking in the grand structure before him, he questioned what it was he hoped to find here. Honestly, he did not know, and he was starting to think it was a stupid idea. He should have just stayed in his room and tried to sleep. Hell, he should have just gone back to Carmarthen. They could try and figure out something together. But no. He’d promised he’d find a way to get them out of there, to bring them to Camelot where they could be safe with him. But how? How could he possibly do that?

Still standing outside, staring up at the church, trying to decide whether or not to go in, his mind was foggy. Lack of sleep and excessive stress will do that to you. Lost in his own mind, he hadn’t yet realised that he wasn’t alone.
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Joined: Nov 17 2011, 08:24 AM

Jan 25 2012, 05:45 AM #2

((I hope you don't mind my replying! I read Lucius' bio and couldn't resist. :) ))


After having arrived in Camelot late the evening before, Bron hadn’t had much time or inclination to explore her surroundings. Her sole concerns had revolved around where her chambers were, how hot her bath water was and how soon she could crawl into bed. The eventful manner of her arrival had been taken as a bad omen by the good Bretons who had travelled with her from her homeland, and try though she had done to convince them that they were being silly, somewhere in the back of her mind Bron had her doubts as well. She had expected... well. She wasn’t quite sure what she had expected, but suffice it to say that being attacked on the highway had not been part of her fantasy of arriving at Camelot. What should have been a blissful slumber after almost a month of being denied an honest to goodness bed had instead been a fitful worry of dark dreams, so real that when she had woken with a start before dawn the princess felt that they could almost be premonitions.

Bron was frightened. She was so very far from home and the protection of her father, the King. She had skipped happily away from everything that she knew and was comforted by and straight into a world that was nothing like she was used to. The small group of people who had accompanied her did little to stem her concerns. They made signs against curses, and had gone to their lodgings whispering that they ought never to have come to such a troubled land in the first place. In the dark gloom of early morning, when it had become obvious to Bron that she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, she decided that she may as well get a head start on finding her feet here in Camelot. She could think of only one place where she might be able to find solace for her prickly thoughts. Unable to find a guard to accompany her only set her more on edge. With a look of determination on her face, Bron set out in the direction of the chapel.

Camelot was mostly still asleep. The fires of a forge glowed through shuttered windows as she passed the smithy and the scent of fresh bread backing wafted to her on the thin breeze that slipped through the city streets but aside from these two beacons of humanity it may as well have been a ghost town. The rest of the buildings were dark, shaded by the cool gaze of the moon that had only now begun to rise higher as it climbed its own stairs in search of rest for the day. Bron was just able to discern the tall peak of a steeple over the roofs of another row of buildings and walked in that direction, pulling her cloak more tightly about herself and keeping her footsteps light so as not to announce her presence. Rounding a corner the church came into full view. The girl stopped to admire the architecture for a moment – so different to Brittany! – and then saw the man standing in front of the building she wished to enter.

She took a deep breath. Passing him would make her vulnerable, but she needed to pay for clarity of mind and comfort for the people who had accompanied her on this journey. She reasoned that he did not know she was a princess, and that if she walked as quickly and as quietly as she could she would be inside before he could think to even look twice at her. Surely there would be some official or even a servant inside, keeping watch over the altar? Steeling herself to the action she was about to commit, Bron pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and started off at a brisk trot. She glanced once at the man, just before she passed him, and quickened her pace once he was behind her as she made for the door. Her hand fumbled slightly on the door clasp before it jerked open and startled her. Pressing her lips closed in her desperation to be safe, the princess slipped through the door and pulled it closed behind her as an explosive breath of relief escaped her. She began to walk towards one of the pews, feeling more relaxed, before she noticed that she had been quite wrong about someone being inside to tend the altar.

The chapel was just as deserted as the rest of the town, except for her and the man outside.
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Lucius Stark
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Lucius Stark
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Joined: Jun 25 2011, 08:55 PM

Jan 27 2012, 03:32 AM #3

Seeing her suddenly appear briefly shook him out of his daze. He didn’t think he’d run into anyone at this time of the morning here at the chapel. Then again, he didn’t really know what to expect considering it was so rare that he ever went anywhere near a church these days.

Her appearance did distract him for a moment though. He hadn’t got a very good look at her considering she’d passed him so quickly and also had her hood pulled up. Lucius almost caught a glimpse of her face, but it wasn’t long enough for him to actually be able to say anything about what she looked like. This made him curious and made him want to find out what was hiding beneath that hood. It had been several weeks since he’d been with a woman, and though this was the last place that he’d ever have thought to find one to take back to his room, he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Maybe it would help him relieve some of his stress for a little bit. He’d have to follow after her and see if it was something worth considering after all.

Seeing her reach the door, Lucius still hadn’t moved. Yet, now he was no longer staring at the building before him, he was staring at her. She seemed a little clumsy at the door. Is she nervous? Lucius wondered. If she was he wasn’t quite sure what the reason would be. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him. That would be rather absurd. Sure, Lucius often frightened people – women especially – once they got to know him or once he had his way with them, but this one, she hadn’t even said a word to him. He’d done nothing. What did she possibly have to fear?

Once she’d gone inside, Lucius took a moment to look himself over. He considered that maybe his appearance had frightened her. It had been several days since he’d last slept and he had been neglecting his hygiene more recently than he ever used to. Still, he’d washed only the night before and he’d made himself look at least mostly presentable when he left his room this morning. Thus, he figured that it couldn’t have been his looks that scared her. After ruling out all his initial ideas, he was left with nothing. Now his curiosity would definitely get the better of him. He needed answers – and at the very least, she was proving to be a good distraction (however momentary).

With his mind made up he finally ascended the steps up to the front door – almost entirely forgetting the hesitation he’d felt only moments ago.

Once inside it didn’t take him long to find her. She was sitting in one of the pews. Confidently, he walked up to where she was and sat down in the pew directly in front of her. After waiting a moment to collect his thoughts, he turned around to face her, placing his arm over the back of the pew. “Good morning” he said, allowing a small smirk to form on his lips. “What brings you to this fine establishment today?”


(OOC): No worries, I'm glad you replied and I look forward to writing with you.
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Joined: Nov 17 2011, 08:24 AM

Jan 28 2012, 05:11 AM #4

As soon as Bron had closed the heavy door to the chapel behind her, she had begun to pray that the strange man loitering outside would go away. Perhaps he was just a newcomer to town who had lost his way – it would have been easy for her to do the same. Maybe he was a drunk, looking for shelter in a doorway so that he could sleep off the effects of his drinking session before the day truly began in earnest. Whatever his reasons for standing outside and staring up at the chapel, Bron fervently hoped against hope that he found whatever it was that he was after and simply moved on. And then all of those innocent hopes were dashed as soon as she heard the door open and the purposeful punctuation of his footsteps echoing through the chapel.

She'd been stupid to come out of the castle on her own. As she could hear the stranger walking closer she berated herself for not having been more guarded, for thinking that Camelot was like home where she was known to the people and could come and go more or less as she pleased. She had taken a liberty here – after hardly being in the city for a full day – and now, in all likelihood, she would pay for it. Her heartbeat was thumping like a war drum in her chest, heralding the dark news of trouble. Her imagination was starting to run away with her. She imagined all sorts of things. He might ruin her virtue. He might cut her throat. He might tie her up and keep her captive so that he could do both. Her palms began to sweat and she was just trying to decide what she could do if she felt his hand upon her, a scream halfway to her lips, when he sat down in front of her.

For all that he hadn't even looked at her sideways, to her knowledge, the paranoia that overcomes a child who has put themselves in a dangerous situation is so tangible they can taste it on the air. On some subconscious level, Bron had felt a thrill in going into a city she didn't know all alone to seek solace. She was witty, clever and book-smart, despite her age and gender. But street smarts were not something encouraged for a princess to verse herself in and the flush of excitement that had bubbled up inside of her at doing something rebellious, while previously masked with her worry about other things, was now renewed and mixed with the potency of adrenaline.

Her dark eyes were wide when she took in his casual position, his arm across the back of the pew as though they were old friends in a tap room rather than strangers with a potentially fatal future. His eyes were much, much darker than hers and for a moment she could do nothing but stare into them like a doe who sees her hunter before she ends up on his supper table. She stared and stared as though attempting to plumb-bob the depth of them so that she might know the shallowest part of his soul. There was nothing. She could not discern such a thing, and the smirk that he slipped her did nothing to assure her of the accuracy of his moral compass.

But while every fibre of her being screeched a warning – while every instinct of hers told her to excuse herself and get out – she found she could not move. His manners were odd but not threatening, his greeting perfectly civil. Bron very much wanted to feel as though he gave her some sort of reason to be on her guard around him but he did not, and as such she settled into an uneasy guilt. Her head told her that she was being ridiculous. Her gut told her that she was right on the money. She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't know him, or Camelot, or anything about its people at all. Her eyes darted away to the altar for guidance, looking at the sanctuary in white marble just over his shoulder before looking back to those bottomless eyes of his. After a moment she no longer look at them, either. Her gaze fell to her hands, clasped tightly together beneath the thin buffer of her cloak.

“What anyone may come to church for, sir,” she replied as respectfully as she could in a small voice, her brain whirring with how she could extricate herself. As much as the thought of looking back at him frightened her, she felt that she should keep an eye on him in case he made some kind of attempt upon her. Lifting her gaze once more, Bron forced some of her true bravery to the fore and raised her chin defiantly.

“Guidance.”
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Lucius Stark
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Lucius Stark
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Joined: Jun 25 2011, 08:55 PM

Jan 30 2012, 04:28 AM #5

Now that he was facing her properly, Lucius took a moment to see just who it was he was dealing with. The first thing he realised was that she was much younger than he’d originally thought. That being said, she wasn’t exactly a child. He let his eyes flicker quickly over her body. Yes, she was definitely not a child, though still, she was younger than the women Lucius would usually go after. However, her beauty was something that could not be denied.

He also noticed that she was not poor. The full extent of her wealth, he was still uncertain about, but based on her general appearance and clothes, there was no way she was a street urchin. The mere fact that she appeared clean was sign enough to him that she was likely not a member of the lower class.

Making these assumptions about her caused many more questions to form in Lucius’ mind. Provided she didn’t bore or annoy him, perhaps he would end up getting answers to some of them.

He caught her eyes glance behind him – presumably at the alter (though he did not turn to follow her gaze). She also tried to make eye contact with him, but was unable to do so consistently. He was sure of it now, he made her nervous. It amused him at how little he had to do to unnerve someone. Was he really that frightening?

His eyebrow rose a little when she addressed him as sir. Quite the proper young thing, isn’t she? he thought to himself. She’d been taught good manners. Although Lucius liked to be treated with respect, he didn’t like people who willingly threw themselves down before those they perceived to be in a state of higher power. To be submissive is to be weak. To Lucius, if you were weak, you could be of no use. He’d have to experiment with her and see whether or not was just being polite, or if she really was just a weak, little child.

Pleased to see her try again to look him in the eyes, he pressed on. “Guidance, you say? And what would a young thing like you need guidance for?” She looked quite innocent and gentle to him and he would therefore be very surprised to hear that she actually had any true problems in her life worth fussing over. “Besides, do you really believe that you will get the help you seek from a place like this? You do know that they don’t exactly talk back, right?” he said, gesturing casually to the figures seen within the chapel.
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Joined: Nov 17 2011, 08:24 AM

Jan 31 2012, 12:31 PM #6

As a foreign noble in a strange land without any idea on the political situation or who was even whom Gwenfyar had decided long before her arrival in Camelot to at leas tattempt civility. Her mother would be horrified if she heard anything to the contrary, and Bron was determined to make her mother proud of her. She had hoped that her clipped answer and her obvious nervousness at being in his presence would deter the man – indeed if he had any kind of manners then it surely would have been the case! - and Bron was at first dismayed when he began to speak.

His words stirred something of a contradiction in her. He didn't appear to want to be rude, yet she couldn't help but feel that he was making fun of her. While she normally had no objections to a good joke, even at her own expense, Bron did not like strangers poking fun at her. A slight frown flickered over her features before she arched a brow at his peculiar comment about her believing she would find help in a chapel. Indeed, would she not? In a church? What a novel idea. She was sure the King would be most surprised to find the kind of talk in his own city!

Bron was a devout young woman. She always had been. She didn't seem to feel that being close to God would deny her any of the pleasures in life – in fact she rather thought it the sauce on an already delicious meal. She was praised for her piety back home, and meant to carry on with it even though she could not worship in the manner to which she had become accustomed in Brittany. That said, she didn't preach. If the man in the pew in front of her had some quarrel with the Almighty then that was between them. She most certainly would not go poking her nose in it for anything.

Well. Almost anything. After being exceptionally religious and opinionated, the princess was also damnably curious.

“A young woman has many things that she might seek guidance for,” she began, feeling more like herself again, now that it did not seem that he was going to slit her throat for her purse. “Could you claim to be familiar with them?” She already knew from his comment that he did not think the chapel would bring him solace. Having no desire to enter into a theological debate with a stranger (she had noticed that they never seemed to end particularly well), Bron opted for the other train of thought. Him.
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Lucius Stark
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Lucius Stark
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Joined: Jun 25 2011, 08:55 PM

Feb 4 2012, 05:48 AM #7

“Such as what?” Lucius was still rather sceptical about what it was she was praying about. Sure, he was well aware that it wasn’t his business. Just as he had no intention on telling her – or anyone for that matter – why he’d dragged himself there and what it was that was plaguing his mind, he shouldn’t be surprised that she would do the very same thing – keep her secrets to herself. Still, he was curious, bored, and liked the idea of focusing his energy on someone else’s issues rather than his own for a while. Thus, he pressed on and continued to pry – whether it was appropriate or not. Lucius was never one to shy away from pushing people’s buttons or making them uncomfortable. Besides, who was there to stop or reprimand him for being so nosy? She could, for one, but he doubted she would.

“Claim to be familiar with them?” At first he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but quickly he realised she was just following in his own suit of casually referring to God, the saints and all other holy beings. “Oh! Them!” He let out a soft laugh which was probably more like a scoff. “I’ve been told I should be familiar with them, and to an extent I guess I am, but they’ve never done me any good or made themselves known to me.” Lucius had been raised in your standard religious environment because of his standing and class – though neither of his parents was especially devout. He’d been taught the basics. Although he’d tried reading scripture, it was too much of a struggle for him to get through it. As a child he’d prayed, but that slowly started to happen less and less over the years. As the abuse he and his brothers suffered never got any better and their pain persisted, it grew more and more difficult to keep his faith. Eventually he gave up entirely. The way he saw it, why should he waste his time praying to some invisible beings who never brought him or his brothers any salvation? They just watched and let it keep happening. Deep down, he still had a faint belief in the existence of God, but he found no comfort in prayer. “So I guess the better answer is no.” That’s why it’d been such a struggle for Lucius to actually give in and come to the church. He didn’t see what good it would do, but at this point he was willing to try almost anything. Maybe someone would finally hear his prayers.

Not wanting to discuss much more about his personal relationship with God – or the lack thereof – Lucius decided to ask one of the questions that he’d been pondering for a while now. “Do you usually go wandering about the city all on your own?” It wasn’t too often you saw a woman on her own unless it was midday and there were a lot of other people around. The fact that this one was also quite young made it even more peculiar that she was alone. Was she just being rebellious to some higher authority that usually controlled her? Or was she genuinely all by herself? Either way, Lucius was very interested in what she’d say. He’d also have to try and wager whether or not she would tell him the truth or lie. He wouldn’t be surprised if she chose the latter.
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