Open | Action: What is a sally if not another word for adventure? (literally)

[hildago]

While there had been no flower-borne sickness for Don Quixote, nor another kind of sickness (which really, might have been the death of the old man, what with his missing teeth and chinked ear). So, today, the weather only finds the Knight Errant on the back of his fair, sway-backed steed, Rocinante, the hooves clip-clopping along the streets, in search of adventure.

That there can be no true monsters, or dragons, doesn't occur to him. After all, what is a Knight without adventure? (Besides a crazy old man?)

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[sempreborgia]

There is much for Lucrezia to be thankful for on this day. She has been spared the strange sickness that has swept through Itinere as well. Both she and d'Artagnan had been spared. This is what has found her at the church Itinere has given her on a daily basis, to give thanks for such things.

After her prayers, she exits the church dressed in a beautiful aqua and gold gown to stand on the steps for a few moments and look out over the place that is beginning to feel like a home to her. Such wonders this place provides its people. Another thing to give thanks for, of which she will add to her list of thanks for her next visit.

The man upon his steed down main street catches her attention. It's been awhile since she has seen a horse. She lifts her skirts just enough to step down the stairs to the church with ease as she approaches him.

"Good day, my lord. What a fine steed you have." She greets the man.

[hildago]

Oh, if that were only true. Were Sancho Panza here, he would snort indecorously behind his hand; Rocinante is far from a steed and far from fine, perhaps as long in the tooth as Don Quixote, Knight Errant, Righter of Wrongs and Redresser of Injustices is.

"Dear senora!" exclaims said Knight, reining the meandering nag to a stop. "Ah, yes! Rocinante is a fine beast." There's a moment when he ponders getting down from the horse, but that would involve a good deal of clanking of rusty armor and he may well lose his balance, which would be more than a little humiliating in front of such a beautiful woman!

"I am," he says with great pomp, "Don Quixote de la Mancha! Knight Errant! Do you, perhaps, need rescuing? Perhaps protecting?"

[sempreborgia]

Admittedly, Lucrezia knows very little of horses, only what small amounts she had gleaned from Paolo when she watched him work in the stables back in her world. She hadn't truly been in a stable before then. But she does know how to ride, if that is any boon toward her lack of knowledge in whether this horse is truly fine or not.

"Sir Knight." She greets him, dipping into a low curtsy with a sweep of her skirts before introducing herself as well. "Lucrezia Borgia." She stands upright again, looking up at the man atop his horse. He looks so very interesting. "And I would be pleased to be under your protection should I ever find myself in need."

Her hand smooths over the horses neck. "That's his name? Rocinante? Does it mean anything?"

[hildago]

"Rocinante is a name fitting of the steed of a Knight," the hildago blusters. For the truth is that he chose the name simply for the sound of it, not any particular meaning.

"Senora Borgia. It is a pleasure that I feel to my very toes to make your acquaintance!"

[sempreborgia]

"It is most noble a name, Sir Knight. Befitting both a gallant steed and the brave one who commands him." She agrees with a small smile and a nod, her palm still petting steadily at the horse's neck. Rocinante doesn't seem to mind her touch. And Don Quixote de la Mancha seems alright with it as well.

In her mind's eye, she puts together a story of Rocinante and the Knight Errant. Lucrezia enjoys getting lost in stories far greater than the life she had resigned herself to with Giovanni Sforza.

"The pleasure is mine, good Sir." She assures him. And because he seems to be closer to her time than most others here. "Tell me, what think you of our fair city, Itinere?"

[hildago]

"This city is not unlike those in the great Romances of the day," intones the Knight. Poor Lucrezia could be in for a long sermon if she stays.

"In those books, the villages were populated by valiant Knights, upholding the tenets of Chivalry, honorable - and fair! - ladies who would serve as inspiration. The leader, of course, is always good and fair." Or evil and in need of vanquishing. Six of one ....

"Though," the hildago does admit, "the stones of the streets (by which he means asphalt) is very rough on the hooves of my horse."

[sempreborgia]

Fortunately, Lucrezia neither minds a great sermon or words that wax poetic. The first because she is the daughter of the Pope. The second because she is somewhat of a romantic and does enjoy great literature and poetry that tends to wax poetic.

"I enjoy such tales of heroism, love and chivalry." She admits, slipping some lace gloves from the inside of her sleeves to slip delicately onto each hand. "To think that we might be living in one such similar circumstance is quite a romantic thought."

With the gloves on her hands, she once again pets at the horses neck. "Poor Rocinante. Is there anything we can do to ease his distress?"

[hildago]

Aside from kill the poor thing because he is old? Not that Don Quixote would advocate that.

"He is a hale and hearty creature," he assures the beautiful woman. "He shall be fine with some hay and some water."

"Were my heart not already pledged to the beautiful Dulcinea," he expounded, "I would pledge it to you, fair Lucrezia. For beauty of your kind deserves the attentions of a most noble knight."

[sempreborgia]

Oh what a horrible and sad thought. Lucrezia is glad he doesn't voice such a thing. Lucrezia finds that she quite likes both Don Quixote and his valiant steed Rocinante.

She thinks of d'Artagnan, who has her own heart. Her love might be quite amused with Don Quixote de la Mancha. "You are too kind, Sir Knight." She says politely. But in truth, she does enjoy being called beautiful. She's only just getting used to kind words in regard to herself after having lived with Giovanni for awhile where nary a kind word was spoken.

"If you might accompany me to the stables by the racetrack, perhaps I could ride with you for awhile." She looks up to the Knight with the sincere hope that he might say yes.

[skysung]

But there are, in fact, true dragons!

...just not of the usual size for monster-fighting. Kitten is only forty five inches long, and a third of that is her tail. She's small and blue and very recently recovered from her very first time being sick.

Kitten whirls at the sound of hoofbeats, because she grew up with a horse as a partner in crime and a pony as a frequent babysitter. She's always considered the equine members of the household just as much a part of her family as her human adoptive parents are. She hasn't met any here, so seeing a man mounted comes as a surprise. Kitten keeps her distance but whistles a greeting to both man and horse.

[hildago]

Rocinante turns first, because, to be frank, Quixote cannot hear very well after being pummeled by stones more than once.

But when the horse stops, he peers around and his gaze lands on the ...
what is it? A lizard?

"What a grand and monstrous lizard," he exclaims. "I would imagine these are brought in from Africa, clearly."

[skysung]

Kitten snorts in exasperation. She'll take that over people pointing and screaming 'crocodile!' as they would tend to in Carthak, but she is not a lizard. ...Always fond of admiration, she will take 'grand' as the compliment it is, of course, preening just a little before she shakes her head emphatically.

No. No, she is not brought in from Africa. She has never even heard of Africa. And a lizard would not have wings. Hers may be rudimentary still, far too small for flight, but there they are upon her back, shifting to call his attention to them. And here is a very small flame flickering out from between her teeth for further demonstration. Clearly, Kitten is a dragon.

[hildago]

"Why, you are a fire-breathing beast!" Don Quixote exclaims as Rocinante takes a couple of stumbling steps back to avoid a singeing. "A very small fire-breathing beast."

Of course, this is the man who thrashed the Moor's puppets into small bits so size, clearly, matters little to Don Quxiote! He draws his sword from his makeshift scabbard and holds it aloft. "I shall vanquish you, beast! And save the city! It is what a Knight Errant is meant to do!"

And so, with intention stated, he charges!

... Which means that Rocinante takes a few staggering steps forward again.

[skysung]

If Kitten were human, she would be dragging her hands down her face in frustration right now. Since she is not, of course, that gesture is an impossible one. She won't hurt Rocinante, though, however annoyed she might be with Don Quixote. Alright, she probably wouldn't hurt him either, especially given how ineffective his attempts at vanquishing seem thus far.

She ducks to the side and scolds him roundly, but there's enough humor in her at the attempted charge that Kitten will refrain from going red and snorting smoke in his direction.

Kitten really ought to come up with a way to convince the man that she means no harm. She should be friendly rather than scolding. But then, no one said young children had the best judgement, even when the child is a very intelligent dragon kit.

[hildago]

"You will not escape me, beast! The women of this village will be kept safe! I vow my life on it!"

Don Quixote's horse is not helping him, however, dancing/stumbling in counter to the little dragon.

If only Sancho were here to speak a sort of reason into the situation. The Knight points his rusty blade at the beast, exclaiming, "you shall meet the depths of hell, beast!"

(He is prone to hyperbole, which is probably not surprising.)

[skysung]

Her blue scales do redden at that. A lizard or an animal, she can tolerate being called. She hates being treated as a monster, though. She's never heard of hell, but Kitten has an imagination. She can guess at what he means.

She doesn't think she's in any real danger, so despite her anger, Kitten keeps control. The air around her doesn't heat. She isn't scorching Don Quixote out of his saddle. Instead, she just huffs smoke at him from her now scarlet snout, croaking and whistling something of a tirade to vent her obvious displeasure.

...Yes, she's very good at placating strangers with swords. It's a natural talent. Kitten has never cared much for holding her tongue. Him understanding her words might have helped avoid this situation in the first place, but right now it may be a good thing he doesn't.

[hildago]

Even if this dragon were to speak Spanish, there would be the chance that Don Quixote would not understand her. After all, he is not the most diligent of listeners.

Let us not even contemplate the idea that it would be a talking animal.

"You dare not try to intimidate me!" he says of the smoke. It finally occurs to him to dismount and he does, only very nearly falling but not falling, to once again brandish his sword. "It is the Knight's duty protect and to fight danger!"

[makeslouder]

She loves spending time in Monmouth. It might not be the Monmouth back in Henrietta but she'll happily accept the duplicate as her home for now. But there's only so much time that she can spend within there, especially when the mess gets to be a little too much. She doesn't mind cleaning; someone has to. But some days, living with boys is a lot harder than she thought it'd be.

There seem to be all sorts here in Itinere and people watching has become one of her favorite pastimes. She smiles when she sees Don Quixote pass by, looking like he's stepped straight out of one of Ganseys' stories of Glendower. She pulls out her PDA, already tempted to send him a text through the device.

A second later, she decides otherwise. Blue walks over and asks politely, "May I take your picture, sir?"

Much better than just a text.

[hildago]

Oh, dear. The poor girl would have so much to explain to the Knight Errant.

"What did you say, girl?" Don Quixote asks. His hearing is not all there, after all. "Can you, what?" Not that it matters, because he says, "I will happily provide you with an ode! It is part of the tenets of Chivalry!"

[makeslouder]

It is entirely possible that this man is a reenactor very good at his job or someone truly from the Middle Ages. Blue hopes that it's the latter, especially for Gansey's sake. Wouldn't he love meeting someone from the past? She'd like to think so.

If he's real. Right now, Blue is looking and feeling a little skeptical. She doesn't repeat herself. Instead, she shakes her head. "No it isn't. The tenants of Chivalry are based on honor and faith. You're supposed to protect the church, your nation, and anyone in need without giving offence or looking for reward. No where in the code does it mention odes or poetry of any sort."

[hildago]

Not the Middle Ages, but the pre-Renaissance, mostly, or as he would say, of the Iron Age to return them to the Golden Age....

More or less.

At her reply, the Knight's brow furrows. "In the great books of Romance," he stammers, "Knights would compose spontaneous odes, whilst doing also what you speak of, all of that, yes. I seek no reward, nor did I speak of one. And I have given no offense, either."

At least that he can remember.

"I am Don Quixote de la Mancha! Knight Errant! Righter of Wrongs and Redresser of Grievances!"

[makeslouder]

Blue is more than ready to point out that books of romance are just that: books and stories that have no bearing on fact. That the knights within those compositions would spring into spontaneous odes does not mean that it's historically accurate. Though Blue has been taught to be respectful of her elders, she'd also rather they not be misinformed.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the knight provides his name and her eyebrows rise. "The Don Quixote de la Mancha?"

[hildago]

"You have heard me of me?" the knight asks, pleased. "I know of books that are more or less truthful. I will be most happy to elaborate If you would like! I will start with the fact that Sancho is indeed as fat as the books say."

[makeslouder]

This, Blue's decided, more than anything else she's ever experienced, has to be the strangest thing. She's never actually read Cervantes' classic, but she's certain that you'd be hard pressed to find any well educated individual who hadn't heard of him. You don't have to go to Aglionby to be aware of the classics.

She just never thought they'd come to life. Or be standing right in front of her.

It takes a second more and then she nods, smiling with all the southern charm she knows. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

[hildago]

"And you, fair maiden!" Don Quixote bows with armor that creaks and bones which creak too. "It is my honor!"