Lady Knight Quest 3

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Your name is Jeanne Callahn Elianor, and you present yourself in front of your brother, watching your humble aid on your royal quest fall unconscious to the floor. Isabella's armor chimes and echoes along with the half started shriek she gave out before her body went limp. The general behavior of bowing down to your superior locked you on spot, and you resent that you were not quick enough to react and catch her, but such a display would look off. You have to keep a certain iron image of yourself, you cannot save every loyal subject from suffering and such is a thing you learned harshly.

What could have happened however, was a not so painful grip and a far lesser harsh use of the divine attributes both of you are blessed with. You are also displeased about how you were addressed. You are the eldest child, and though you are not First Corvan, you still maintain a position of respect as the King's first born child, AND Second Corvan of the Order of the Six.

However, your eyes are upon the fallen knight in front of you. Your sibling merely stares at his hand as his fingers curl and stretch within his gauntlet. He must still find the sensation strange. You suppose it still hasn't been very long.

[1/2]

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The hall fell into silence a few moments ago already, but nobody seemed to really move significantly, so you take this moment to be the first one to rise and clear your throat.

"Alters Pat and Henry." You spout their names, like their higher-up in need of filling in a lot of reports. You don't have to turn to them to hear their heads rise. "Return to your quarters. Much of the assignment is to be discussed here." You let your words echo until you've heard their metal suits give out their movement, gesture, and steps away from the vicinity.

None of them say a word. They've both heard this tone of voice before and they know it's something that has become more often along the years, and they have their own connotations. You won't like having to explain, but you'd rather be left alone with your sibling as of this moment. You have much to discuss and express, and you choose to give him a piece of your mind first.

You start by:

>[ ] Reasoning how such a treatment was unfair. Remind him of the objective you both have, and demand that he carry Isabella.
>[ ] Sternly scolding him. Such brash treatment of those who have aided is not tolerable in the slightest.
>[ ] Giving him a glare of forced scorn. Absolutely unacceptable behavior. Warn him of his actions.
>[ ] Silence. Let his eyes and conscience feast on what he has caused.
>[ ] Other (write-in)

>[x] Giving him a glare of forced scorn. Absolutely unacceptable behavior. Warn him of his actions.

>[ ] Silence. Let his eyes and conscience feast on what he has caused.

Just a bit of a level gaze.

Well...shit. Suppose it's because it's a monday today, but gotta need a few more than that.

I also wanted to start today off with drawfag bullshittery, but unfortunately I don't know how to nor got to it in time.

>[ ] Silence. Let his eyes and conscience feast on what he has caused.

Here.

Changing my vote to

>[ ] Silence. Let his eyes and conscience feast on what he has caused

So we have 3.

Alright then, silence it is.

As much as the entirety of your being wanted to scold him about how such a thing was completely avoidable, and by the gods, you can feel such churn inside your bowels, you really, really want to say a good amount that would represent your general distaste for his actions, but you know that your silence isn't golden at all, and it has worked multiple times.

"Phillipe." You say, your voice stern and only slightly disappointed in tone, echoing through the tall, polished, marble chambers of the cathedral built in honor of your pantheon.

Your level gaze reaching for his equally blue eyes, you wait for his head to turn, and when it does, it is accompanied by a curious look from your younger sibling.

"What?" He asks, like he had done nothing wrong. Still a characteristic of him that persisted through time, and such makes you sigh, but you let your silence prolong and your visage burrow him naturally.

His look turns slightly uncomfortable and he looks away from you. "Enough of that look. I am the appointed First Corvan by the King and such was the best course of action."

Silence was your choice, and you stick to it. In fact, you let him observe that you crossed your arms and blinked, waiting for a better excuse, and that such information does not change your stance

"Remeber that I said it would present hardship for both. More so for her if she even makes it."

You take note that his eyes are actually avoiding looking at Isabella, and that his left thumb was rubbing against the gauntlet. He begins turns to walk away but you clear your throat, cocking your head in her direction, which was given response by an audible groan.

"Surely, you must jest. I, Phillipe Elianor, First Corvan of The Order of the Six, am not going to carry a lowly errant knight." He says with a commanding confidence, one you both helped each other build, and that you know how to destroy.

[1/2]

You lean your head position to make sure your eyes question his assurance with accuracy. If such did not work, you had a couple of words prepared, but as soon as you breathed in to speak and sharply dissect his excuse, but his hand is raised and his eyes are closed by the time you were going to.

"Fine. If it will spare me from your lecture, I will carry her myself." He mutters, not wanting to admit his defeat so loudly.

You huff in your own small victory, but it is here that he directs his gaze in a similar manner, although less sharply and less judgmental, which makes your stance tense up. You know where you went wrong before he even started.

"Though you were about to reveal the existence of the Magister to two Alters and an unranked knight. You ought to tell me if my own actions were that unjustified." He continues, just as you expected him to, in the same muttering as he walked to your direction and sling your valuable aid over his pauldron.
Luckily they were both armored, and the trek wouldn't be too arduous or long, nor would any of them feel much discomfort, taking in account Bella is unconscious.

His words stung a little as both of you started to walk towards the altar in the middle, Mar Neler, the warrior god, brandishing a sword as great as himself, held heroically with the tip facing the ground, his clenched fist near his facial features. You pressed the small plate upon the wall that you knew would dislocate the statue itself to the side, revealing a set of stairs that both of you walked downwards to.

What do you say towards him?

>[ ] Disregard such a statement. Bella helped you and those two are your close friends. There would be no trouble.
>[ ] Take the blame, but let it not serve as an excuse for his actions.
>[ ] Admit to such, but present the reasons why you would mention the Magister in the first place.