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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate grand order: tezcatlipoca,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- howl's moving castle: howl,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- terra e: tony asuka,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru
THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME
Sweet dreams are made of Bliss
As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
Click your Heels together, Dorothy!
As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours
When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Catch [???] Winks
The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
howl (meri, iconoclast)
[ There's a certain benefit to being a relatively fresh arrival in Kenos. When Howl opens his eyes and finds himself in the familiar streets of his hometown, he isn't filled with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, or longing, or joy, or any of the other complicated emotions that so many Shard-Bearers will feel... After all, the last time he was here was about, oh, three months ago? And his sister made sure it hadn't been a pleasant visit, either. So as he stands up, he sighs, dusts off his very not-of-this-world clothing, and starts walking off towards his family's house.
Howl reappears about an hour later, dressed in distressed jeans, trainers and a wool sports coat, in front of a pub at the center of town. He looks up at the sign hanging above the establishment's blue door, which aptly reads Blue Door, and reaches for the handle to step inside.
It should be fine, right? He already found "his" Shard when he stopped at home to change; he can feel it sitting snugly against his thigh in his jeans pocket. And there's something else similar to it here, in this pub, judging from a similar nagging feeling that lead him here like it lead him to "his" Shard. Howl sits at the bar, as after ordering a dark malt beer from the bartender, starts to chat up the unfamiliar man (and anyone else in the vicinity). ]
Have you seen Megan Jenkins recently? Or her two children, Mari and Neil? Or are they on holiday? [ Leaning on his elbows, he tries not to sound too eager. Somehow he's managed to make it this long without being recognized by any of the locals, and he'd prefer to keep it that way.
But when it comes to being recognized by those who are not locals... ]
Who in here is visiting from Kenos? [ he calls out suddenly, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the pub. ] Drinks on me to anyone who fesses up to it.
[2] the city (grace's world)
[ Now this is what he's talking about: a beach town! And a nice one at that — decadent, noisy, and overly-spacious. He can tell from the excessive amount of parking that he's someplace in America, and as soon as he overhears nearby conversation, his suspicions are confirmed.
What was it they were supposed to be doing again? Finding Shards, or something? Yeah, no. He's going to enjoy himself. This is a vacation, as far as he's concerned.
Some ways down from Apollo's beach shack, Howl is sprawled out on a large beach chair, underneath a brightly-colored umbrella. A plastic beach ball sits beside him, propped against a small styrofoam cooler. Howl is treating this like a proper beach day, with the requisite swimsuit, sunglasses, sandals and thick layer of sunscreen spread across his skin... which is looking very pasty among the more tanned bodies of the other beachgoers.
But he doesn't seem to be looking for a quiet day to himself. Even with sunglasses on, it's obvious that he's watching everyone who passes by. And, yes, epecially the women. I am so sorry he's like this. ]
Hey!
[ You. Yes, you. Howl points a finger at you as you're walking by. ] I know you, don't I?
[ Is this a pick-up line, or is he being serious? Who can say. ]
[3] wildcard!
((and here's the usual "tag him with whatever" option! any and all worlds are okay with me, although I will note that Howl is unlikely to engage in any hostilities unless absolutely forced to (which means: self-defense or defense of others). also, you're free to try to get his world shard or steal his own alternate-aspect shard! world info here!))
2
and truthfully, despite their fiery encounter, howl himself had not left enough of an impact on tony for tony to recognize his voice. it could really be anyone, in this overcrowded world. ]
Huh?
[ tony turns, squinting in confusion as he searches his memory for this vaguely familiar guy. ]
no subject
Oh. I do know you.
[ With one finger, he pulls his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to stare at him disapprovingly over the rim. ]
Given up on terrorizing little old ladies?
no subject
[ ultimately shying away from “killing” another shardbearer, despite all his big talk, tony had fled once howl had seemed to have the advantage. he tells himself he was just being noble, sparing the life of someone much weaker than him, but really it was just morally difficult to fight someone who was fighting back. ]
You’re not over that yet?
no subject
[ Howl asks in a completely deadpan tone of voice. Despite his outward attitude, he waves Tony to come over, patting the towel next to him for Tony to take a seat. ]
I didn't catch your name back then. Let me make your proper acquaintance. I'm the Wizard Howl.
no subject
tony appropriately understands “the wizard” to be a title; even if he finds it a little gauche to announce oneself like that, he’s truthfully not keen to get into an argument over that. ]
…I’m Tony.
[ he doesn’t look like he’s going to come at first, but then he takes a huffy little seat where howl has gestured to. ]
She escaped, so you shouldn’t be mad.
no subject
Is this your natural hair color? Dreadful. Let's fix it.
[ and in an instant, turns his entire tussled head of pink hair into lime green hair. ]
no subject
Wh—
[ he jolts, grabbing a lock from the side so he can look at it properly. ]
What did you do?!
no subject
[ That horrified look on Tony's face is too satisfying. If only Tony could know just how deep the intended insult here is! (considering how much Howl would be losing his mind if/when someone does this to him.) ]
What's wrong? Don't you like it? Well. Not very appreciative, are you? But have it your way.
[ and with another point of his finger, it instantly changes back! ]
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1 ok as a welsh person i have to pick this one ok
I am.
[With no hesitation, and ignoring the few odd looks this exchange was drawing, Byleth stood up from where he'd been sequestered, standing out amongst the rural welsh fashion with his usual cloak and tunics.
Not that his oddity had garnered him much negative attention. No, if anything, a few of the locals curiously asked where the renaissance fair was, or if he was lost on his way to Cardiff or Swansea, names that meant absolutely nothing to him but he nodded to anyways. Very helpful people, but Byleth found that most rural settlements tended to be with lost travellers (if only to ensure they quickly get on their way and don't bring any trouble)]
YEEESSSSSSS :kittyblush:
Ah, yes. It's obvious now that I look at you. Come on over here, friend, and have a seat.
[ Once Byleth is sat on the bar stool beside him, Howl leans his chin into one hand and studies him curiously. ] Don't believe I've met you yet. I'm Howl. Which side are you on, then?
[ Asked completely casually, as if inquiring about the weather. Howl has no intention of picking a fight with him either way, but they both may as well be up front about it now. ]
no subject
[While curious looks were still being flung their way, the pub denizens mostly lost interest, likely assuming them to be discussing some obscure team belonging to a football club - likely English, with those names...]
I'm assuming this is your world? You fit in quite well...
[Yeah, he's eyeing your outfit there, buddy.]
no subject
[ Not that Howl was terribly worried, but it does take a heap of pressure off them both to know they're on the same side, doesn't it. Although Howl had been regarding Byleth calmly before, a subtle tension in his posture dissipates as he looks at him now. ]
Yes, well... wherever it is that we are, it looks very much like my world. [ The bartender sets a pint of dark beer in front of Howl, sparing the pair a perplexed look before settling his gaze on Byleth and asking him what he's having. Howl gestures with a smile, telling him to order freely. ]
no subject
[May as well ply as many free drinks as he can from his ally before the tap ran dry (Jeralt would be proud). The barkeep fulfilled his order, filling a glass rather than a tankard, and Byleth shifted his attention back onto Howl.]
Is this world an odd mirror of yours too, then?
[He's already travelled through Bizarro Fodlan... several times. He knows the drill.]
It was the same for me...
no subject
[ Howl takes a long sip of beer, the moment of silence giving his words some extra emphasis before he continues. ]
If you ask me, the word "mirror" implies some degree of authenticity... a reflection cannot exist without a source being reflected. No, I think the word "copy" is probably more accurate. It was the "Oracle" who created this place, from scratch, right before we arrived, along with all the rest of them. Don't you think?
no subject
[Byleth's voice was slow, his brow furrowed as he considered the theory Howl put forth. If this was a copy, then what was it copied from? If from their memories, why was it so distorted? At least, some of these worlds were vastly different from the original...]
I'm not sure. If it's a copy, then the Oracle would've taken the template from our memories... but it's not a faithful imitation... then, could it be these worlds are influenced by our subconscious views of our worlds? What we wanted for them, or how we percieve them...?
[Or something???]
no subject
[ Howl had considered this a possibility too, but he hadn't yet pondered it seriously. Now that Byleth has voiced it aloud, he has no choice.
With a slight frown, he clasps his hand around the wet outside of his beer glass but does not pick it up for another sip. ]
The only difference, as far as I can tell, about this version of my world is that my sister and her family isn't here. My sister and I prefer not to see each other, so I understand if the Oracle chose to recreate this place without her in it. But... my niece and nephew, too?
(no subject)
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1
One of the staff of the establishment regards her with a cross between confusion and outright humor, peppering her with questions about where she's from and how she's finding town. Being a Welsh girl in a Welsh town, she has room to answer truthfully: she's from a little village over yonder and is enjoying seeing a bigger town, actually. Eventually she manages to convince him that she's really just looking for a bite to eat, and that he need not fear that she has a secret alcoholic agenda. The bar is safe from her.
That is... until she hears a familiar voice raised from said bar. Turning away from her plate of Welsh cakes (which for a second made her forget about her actual objective), she sits up tall in her seat at the dining tables and raises a hand just above her hooded head to get Howl's attention. ]
Mr. Howl! Over here...
[ Have you ever tried to get the attention of someone across the room without drawing the attention of everybody in-between? It's a very fine art that Gray is doing everything in her power to achieve. ]
no subject
Miss Gray! What are you doing here? They let you in?
[ This causes him to look back at the bartender with a raised eyebrow. The bartender tells him in Welsh that she insisted she was only here to eat, and he has no intention of selling her a drop of alcohol. After Howl converses back and forth with him for a moment, he seems satisfied with the purity of his intentions. Carrying his pint of beer with him, he gets up from the bar and walks over to where Gray is sitting to take the seat across from her. ]
Well, good to see you healthy and well, lass. Or at least you appear to be?
no subject
In any case, Gray smiles and settles down as Howl sits himself across from her as if they really were just friends chatting on a lazy day. As he notes, she appears healthy and well, her tendency toward modest dress going a long way in helping her blend into this modest town. Her hood does make her stick out a bit, but that isn't something she registers anymore. She responds in Welsh, happy to do as Romans do. ]
I've been well. It's been interesting seeing everyone's worlds.
[ Not all of them are happy, but they're fascinating regardless. Though it may be callous to say, it's a bit like she's become a tourist. ]
I didn't recognize this town, so I thought it might be yours. It's a lovely place.
no subject
Smiling, he answers back in Welsh, happy to have someone to speak his first language with. ]
I told you before, didn't I? I love Wales, even if it doesn't love me.
[ He sits back in his chair and studies her for a moment. ] There was a another village, a few worlds back... very small, but I could still tell it was Wales, especially from the look of the mountains. That was your home, wasn't it?
no subject
Her smile fades, and she nods slowly to Howl's question. Clearly not as enamored when it comes to her own village. ]
That's right. I'm sorry I missed you. It would have been complicated if the villagers saw me, so I stayed away for the most part.
[ Alter Self only lasts for so long, after all. And from a less practical standpoint, it was simply unpleasant for her to see those people again. ]
I hope they didn't treat you too strangely.
[ She could tell the villagers were energized, elated — borderline fanatical about the return of King Arthur. All too happy to heap word of his legend on the unsuspecting newcomers, no doubt. ]
no subject
[ Howl pauses, watching Gray for a moment, thinking. ]
Any Welshman with a passion for history or literature has a certain affection for Arthurian legend, but your people take it to another level, don't they?
[ In a weird way. Almost like religious devotion. What's up with that? ]
Do you simply find them embarrassing? [ he tips his head, his tone gentle and careful. ] Or... is there another reason you hid from them?
no subject
Her own hang-ups aside, the situation in her village is difficult to explain concisely. Gray's pause extends, until she speaks again slowly. ]
They devoted their lives to ensuring that King Arthur would return as the legends foretold. In the world I came from, it eventually become impossible... but in the version of my world we passed through, they managed to make it happen. They revived King Arthur.
[ Fantastical stuff, she knows, but Howl is a wizard, so surely he won't find it too beyond belief. ]
I couldn't show myself because King Arthur and I can't exist at the same time. It would have confused the villagers.
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And may I ask, then... [ he says slowly, knowing she might not want to answer, or even that he might not want to know the answer... ] Why you and King Arthur can't exist at the same time?
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