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Entry tags:
Open | action
That he walked his trusty steed Rocinante through doors is not by far the strangest thing to happen to Don Quixote, the bravest, most honorable, most stalwart of all knights in the history of Knight Errantry.
Even, that he is suddenly in a new place might not seem so strange to the Knight, who, as those with a penchant for the wonders of the Romance as a genre of literature can attest. After all, magic is a staple of such books. (They are also what drove our brave, honorable stalwart knight from his very wits.) It is a good thing he is clad in his armor (which is rusted, barely holding together and very heavy)!
It is a lovely place, he finds, after all. Bright and warm with lovely flowers and a field of clover that beckons Rocinante closer. The horse, who, in Quixote's mind, is the most valiant of all steeds, is actually a poor, old sway-backed hack who would very much like to only roam through the clover.
The old man and the old horse wander further and the man can be heard exclaiming, "Sancho! I say, Sancho, it seems we have found a new adventure." He does not look behind him to see that his squire has not made the journey to this place with him. "Surely, this will be a place wherein I can honor my fair Dulcinea with deeds worthy of her name!"
[enter one Don Quixote de la Mancha, fighter of windmills and sheep, man bereft of his wits. Please keep him from the flowers and his horse from the clover?]
Even, that he is suddenly in a new place might not seem so strange to the Knight, who, as those with a penchant for the wonders of the Romance as a genre of literature can attest. After all, magic is a staple of such books. (They are also what drove our brave, honorable stalwart knight from his very wits.) It is a good thing he is clad in his armor (which is rusted, barely holding together and very heavy)!
It is a lovely place, he finds, after all. Bright and warm with lovely flowers and a field of clover that beckons Rocinante closer. The horse, who, in Quixote's mind, is the most valiant of all steeds, is actually a poor, old sway-backed hack who would very much like to only roam through the clover.
The old man and the old horse wander further and the man can be heard exclaiming, "Sancho! I say, Sancho, it seems we have found a new adventure." He does not look behind him to see that his squire has not made the journey to this place with him. "Surely, this will be a place wherein I can honor my fair Dulcinea with deeds worthy of her name!"
[enter one Don Quixote de la Mancha, fighter of windmills and sheep, man bereft of his wits. Please keep him from the flowers and his horse from the clover?]
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No, far from. She had been born with an instant and complete mental download of all strategic and military protocols. All Generation 5000 soldiers on Messaline had.
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Why ... women were not soldiers! That ... that is ludicrous! His mouth opens and closes, open and closes. That ... well, he doesn't know what to do with all of that.
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"Yes." She tilts her head a little, looking at him with a touch of concern and a whole lot of confusion. Is he suffering from some kind of degenerative breakdown or is he mimicking a fish on purpose? She really can't tell. "Generation 5000 soldier. From Messaline."
Jenny stares at him for a second longer. His reaction really is strange. Then again, she has yet to encounter a world on all her travels (which really hasn't been all that many) where women are expected to be docile. And rescued. "Are you all right?"
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It is not he who is strange, for the record, but her! Does she not know how a damsel should act?
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"A soldier, then?"
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Which is, for the record, a soldier. It's just that in the books of Romance, knights sound more ... well, regal.
"... are you sure you do not need to be rescued? Or perhaps a poem written in honor of your beauty?"
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Most of the time.
The serious expression disappears quickly though as she considers his second question. "But I've never had anyone write a poem about me before."