pike | nigel's mobile;

[ The scene playing out in the street would most likely be comical if the elements at work (fear and death and obsession) were not so inclined to spell tragedy. Still, the sentiment just expressed to him is so obscenely ridiculous and random that Nigel cannot help but laugh. A hand coming to cover his mouth as he does so, breath pluming up out of his fingers, the sound of it is decidedly not as alien as the Black Dog's laugh. Not a bark, not a growl, just a laugh. Almost charming in its boyishness as the corners of his eyes crinkle.

To Nigel it's a strange thing to do, to laugh. Only Jack ever seemed to manage it properly from him, and yet. ]

I beg your pardon? We've only just met.

[It's the laugh that ultimately gets through to her, makes her stop a moment and slowly come back to her senses. He's certainly not acting like the hound of death would, and almost as an afterthought, she takes note of his bare feet surrounded by white snow. Bare feet...]

Are--are you Nigel?

[And her cheeks go red in an instant, the pendant slowly falling from her relaxing fingers.]

I'm so sorry, I...so very sorry, you just--startled me, pardon, are you...you're Nigel?

[ Strange behavior, to be sure -- but Nigel's never been a very good judge of what's appropriate and what's not, so he doesn't bother to question Rosella's odd reaction to him. Simply continues to stare her in a way that's not entirely politely, the corner of his mouth still raised incredulously. The expression makes him look more approachable than he probably is. ]

You were expecting to meet me, weren't you? Or should I be someone else instead?

No! I--no, no, you're quite all right, just as you are, I was only--thinking of something else, I'm sorry, do forgive me...

[She rubs her eyes a little, shaking her head a bit as if to clear it as she gets a hold of herself. She's met people with identical faces before. It doesn't mean they're in any way the same person. It doesn't mean anything, it's only a fright, and she's acting absolutely ridiculous, isn't she? Absolutely ridiculous. And goodness, what must the poor boy think of her, with a first impression like that?

Gritting her teeth, she forces herself back into control and then puts on a friendly smile that only wobbles a bit in the beginning, walking a little closer and reaching into her skirt pocket for the cookies she'd put there. When she's close enough--just a bit outside of arm's length--she offers them to him, looking a little sheepish.]

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've...made a bit of a fool of myself, right from the start. Um, yes, I'm Rosella, and these are for you, and it's...it's very nice to meet you in person, Nigel.

[ He doesn't move to take what's offered to him, not right away. No, for a moment or two, he simply allows her to hold them out, as if expecting her to change her mind or draw away the moment he reaches for them. If Nigel had a better understanding of human emotion outside of himself, he would probably be better equipped to acknowledge Rosella's embarrassment. But he's not, so instead he simply watches her, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment as he finally reaches to take the small gift. ]

Apologies aren't necessary, [ he says evenly. ] You were startled and perhaps I'm not as you imagined me to be. [ Nigel looks down at the cookies that she's given him; again, thinks of mother and continues to smile in that elusive way. ]

Are you always so generous? [ His toes curl in the snow. ]

[Not as she'd imagined is an understatement. But the more she looks at him, searching for any small detail to help separate him from the other creature that shares his face, the more she's able to distinguish the small nuances that make them different. There's an intensity about Nigel, it's undeniable, but to Rosella's eyes, it's not predatory--not in the way the Black Dog was, at least. And the more she looks, the more she decides that they really aren't the same, though she does mistake his lack of emotion for awkwardness, when really he is anything but.]

Some of my friends here were sent off to schools, too, and they never seemed to get many treats while they were at it, so...

[She stops; it's her turn to feel awkward now, and she's really not sure why.]

If...you don't like them, there's no need to--I only thought you might like something sweet to eat, that's all.

[ Nigel covers the confections with his hand and holds them to his middle as if they were in need of warmth. There was very little he cared about in the world beyond destiny and Jack and the Holy Order; but his mother ( poor mother, put to bed with still a head) has been always spared a kind thought and those that manage to evoke memories of her are offered something that vaguely resembles compassion. It's just an illusion, however, a series of gestures and expressions that fail to properly connect with the innerworkings of Nigel's heart and mind. But only those who look to peek past the curtain seem to grasp this truth about him. ]

You'll forgive me if I'm unused to kindness. That does not mean it's unwelcome. [ She was right, though. When he was young, his mother used to send him all sorts of indulgences, but as Nigel grew older and his father more bitter, those packages grew fewer and far between until one day they finally stopped.

He stares at her for a very long moment, snow beginning to collect on his bare shoulders and catching on his eyelashes. Then, it occurs to him to say: ] Thank you, Rosella.

[What an odd picture they must make, staring at each other as the snow falls around--one a princess in a gown and wraps that would look more at home in a storybook than a city, the other an impassive young man with bare shoulders and feet who barely seems to acknowledge the weather at all. It's strangely beautiful, the way the stray flakes glisten against his dark lashes, and it takes a moment for the implications of the sight to register in Rosella's mind.]

Oh! Goodness, how awful of me, you must be freezing, standing around like this!

[And she bolts for the parcel she dropped on the ground, hurrying over and retrieving it from where it fell. Luckily, the cloak is sturdy and resistant to the weather, so the small dampness from the snow is no great concern, and the other things wrapped inside are well-protected still. She carries it back to him at once, unwinding the cloak as she goes to reveal the shirt and shoes within.]

Here, I brought these--I do hope they fit. The cloak will, at least, and I hope the boots will, too...I'm so sorry, I completely forgot...

[ Again, Nigel cracks a smile. Politeness dictated a neverending stream of apologies it seemed and while most of the time he found it infuriating and distasteful, he cannot help but be passingly amused with all of the Daventry princess's bluster. Precious bounty of cookies tucked away in a pocket, he does not hesitate to close his hands around the things offered to him. He has very little concept of personal space, something that no doubt becomes immediately apparent to Rosella as his fingers brush hers -- catching some in the process -- and he leans in very close to her face to tell her lightly: ]

You really should stop apologizing to me. There's no need and you're doing me a favor.

[She goes still, this time not in fear but from abrupt shyness, and her cheeks flush once again at the invasion of space and the slide of his fingers over hers. A small part of her can't deny that he's very handsome, even if he unsettles her (and perhaps in some way, because he unsettles her), and she's always been susceptible to gestures like this. It's tempting to apologize again, just out of force of habit, but apologizing for apologizing too much is ridiculous, and she clamps down on the words before they can escape her lips, forcing her racing thoughts into a question instead.]

But aren't you cold...?

[ He breathes out a laugh, the sound little more than an exhale or a light cough, one that billows from between his lips as steam that evaporates into the December air. ]

Quite, [ he admits and then slides his newly acquired clothing into his arms. It's almost as if he moves into her and then past her, the way his continues that lean only to brush along her side to retreat to the garage. At least there he'll have a chance to warm slightly before pulling on the shirt and the shoes and dry some of the snow from his skin. Whatever's accumulated begins to melt quickly once inside and he slicks some of the residual water from his arms with a hand. It's only as an afterthought that he turns to see whether or not she's followed. ]

You must be cold as well, fine cloak or not.

[And she does follow, as if guided by a string, her mind on a hundred different things and still a little awestruck from the previous moment. The garage is suddenly warm, the heat enveloping her as she steps inside, and it takes that sharp contrast in temperature to shake her back to her senses.]

I don't...er, mind it much, though. [She shrugs a little, even as she shakes some snowflakes from where they collected inside her hood.] Winter is nice, in its own way. I'm sure it's much more difficult to arrive here in the winter, though, because of the weather. I was lucky to come in the summer, and it was a fortunate thing, too, since I fell in the fountain and ended up soaked through, besides.

That sounds like an exceedingly more irritating way to arrive, yes, [ Nigel notes as he brushes some of the snow from his slacks before finding a dry spot to sit down and try on the boots provided him. ] Though, [ he adds, after a moment's thought, ] the weather now isn't nearly as dreadful as England at its worst. Snow is arguably better than rain and we have that in excess there.

I've heard it's quite a rainy place, yes. Is it all city like this, though? I'm still not much for all the buildings, even after so long here. Daventry is all fields and hills and forests, not stone and towers.

[ Nigel shakes his head silently as the first boot goes on. They're a bit rough for his tastes (growing up in preparatory schools meant shirts and slacks and ties were his personal preference by necessity), but for the meantime they'll do. Saya had similarly offered Nigel a jacket and shoes but neither had turned out to be a good fit. These were far more promising. ]

The cities are cities but there's plenty of England that's still farm and field. We're an old country compared to other parts of Europe and certainly compared to America, but it's mostly castles and the occasional keep. [ He stands, giving his feet a little stomp, settling his feet into the shoes. Satisfactory enough to get him to crook a passing smile. ] Where I go to school it's mostly just us and tumbled down walls running over hills. That's all.

[A pleased look crosses Rosella's face at the fit of the boots--it'd been a guess in the dark, picking them, but it seems she's gotten at least close enough to be acceptable, even if they are a bit scuffed from the wear and tear Duo put them through. But that pleased look instantly brightens at the mention of castles; most of the stories she's heard about England have been set in the city, and it's nice to hear that there are some parts that aren't so different from her own Daventry, after all.]

America is where Prince's Ton is, isn't it? That's the school my best friend goes to. Do you ever visit the castles in your England, or are they very far from your school? The alligators must like all the rain you get there, don't they? [And she leans forward a little eagerly, without quite realizing she's doing it.]

[ She is rather quaint, isn't she -- Nigel thinks absently to himself as Rosella leans forward into his space just far enough to catch her attention. Rules of attraction don't really cross Nigel's mind since they're not really something he subscribes to. Obsession, yes; destiny, yes. Everything else is biology, boiled down to chemical action and reaction. He wonders what sorts of changes Rosella's physiology might be going through at that very moment before exhaling. ]

Princeton -- if I remember correctly -- is located in America, yes. I've never been so the country as a whole is a bit abstract in my mind, as are Americans in general. [ His mouth quirks as if this was maybe meant to be a joke. ] As for castles, I've visited many of them. Both in England and abroad. I'm quite interested in the kings of old, you see. The order of knights and their role in history. Sovereignty, divine right. Those sorts of things.

[ His voice goes quiet, almost reverential as he speaks of these things and a look that Rosella hasn't seen yet on Nigel creeps now onto his face. It's as if he's enraptured with the idea -- which he is. Oh, he most certainly is.

It takes a moment to break him of his revere and when he finally emerges from it, his cheeks have gone a little flush again. Blinking, his eyes find focus on Rosella's face. Eventually it dawns on him to say something. ]

...no alligators, I'm afraid.

[She tips her head a little, pleased to see his once-impassive face finally seeming to take on life and interest. And really, she thinks, isn't it fortunate that he likes that one in particular? Because she can certainly talk about castles and knights and kings at great length--and it's even nice, in a way, since so few people in the City really seem interested in them. It's always made her feel a bit old-fashioned, liking and expecting that sort of thing; despite herself, she finds herself feeling a rare flicker of hope that she might've just found a subject they share in common. It'll certainly make living together (and forgetting the terrors of his face) easier, having a topic to bond over.]

And adventuring? My father was a knight before he was king, actually, and earned the throne through a quest. Those were always my favorite stories when I was younger.

[She pauses, looking a bit sheepish herself, and then finally laughs as it occurs to her to explain.]

We have them, in the moat. Alligators, that is, in the moat around the castle. Mother always told me to be careful of them, going over the bridge, or they'd snap.

[ Again, Nigel exhales through his nose that laughing sound. ] How much like a fairy story your life sounds sometimes, Princess Rosella. Alligators in the moat, [ he says half to himself and half to her. Looking down at the undershirt he's wearing, he pinches at the damp cloth measuringly and then decides he'd be better off without it.

He doesn't bother to show modesty because in truth Nigel has none to pull the thing off up over his head and quickly shimmy into the shirt Rosella's provided. The cloak then follows, though he takes the opportunity to fold his undershirt neatly before also tucking it away. As he goes about doing this, he speaks: ]

Some would argue the right of kings is in the blood, and should not be earned through deed for it violates the purity of sovereignty. [ Here Nigel glances up, some of that fire in his eyes again. ] But none should simply rest upon their laurels, and certainly not kings. That your farther earned his crown through deed and action should be commended, not scoffed.

[Carefully averting her gaze as he changes, she tries not to smile at the mention of fairy tales. It's a comment she hears often, once people hear about her home and the things her family has done. Her father has his own fairy godmother, even (and is allergic to fairy dust, as a matter of fact), and she herself once cleaned a house for seven dwarves and kissed a frog to turn him back into a prince. But she won't mention that now, though it does bring a hint of a grin to her lips despite her better efforts.]

Well, that's rather how it is in Daventry, too. But the king before Daddy, King Edward...he didn't have any children, you see. That was part of the problem, really, why things were so awful. He needed an heir and made quite a few poor decisions in trying to get one. Daddy was his best knight, and in the end he told him that if he could save the kingdom from peril, then he'd be made king as his reward. And he did, so...that was just how it went. And I'm terribly glad it did, really. The kingdom really was doing very badly, before Daddy became king.

True kings are a rarity, Rosella. In my world, they're all but forgotten and those that wear crowns upon their heads or would claim royal blood are little more than figureheads that stand on ceremony and do nothing else besides. Men of influence and power and honor have been relegated to the history books, passed into legend like fairy tales.

[ When Nigel speaks these words, they come more quickly and more surely than any other point he's made thus far. Where once he was still and occasionally stoic, he is now animated and bright eyed. A spread smiles across his face and there is color rising in his cheeks and in his lips once more. It's as if the topic flushes him with new life and enthusiasm in such a way that no other topic can. ]

That you have lived and breathed such things. [ Nigel shakes his head, looking somewhat amazed. ] Is truly worth something great indeed.

[She can't help but blush a bit at that, part from his sudden enthusiasm and part from the reverence he accords to her life before the City. For Rosella, who has spent the better part of her two years here feeling slightly odd and out of place--never quite lining up properly with the modern world and the expectations that come with it--it's both flattering and refreshing to hear someone not simply legitimizing her experiences, but venerating them as well.

Terrifying though his face may be in her memory, for a moment she forgets all those fears and simply basks in the rare experience of being seen not as a silly oddball sort of princess, but as a real one.]

I'm...I'm very flattered you think so. The City isn't much like it at all, you know, and--well, I do like modern things very much, but it's never...home.

[For one thing, she's much less shy in Daventry than she tends to be here in the City, much less eager to please and likely to second-guess herself for fear she's misunderstood something. Daventry is home, and she's never felt out of place there. Not the way she so often does here.]

[ Veneration is a very good word for what Nigel seems to be doing. And unlike some of his odd stares, his slightly off-kiltered way of speaking, this seems to come as natural to him as breathing. This sort of talk formed the very foundation to his existence -- the teetering kingdom of history and delusion that made the sum-total of his self-worth. ]

The modern world has technologies to offer. Various conveniences that make like simpler and more streamlined. But all things worth doing require some sacrifice of effort -- something the modern world has no patience for. Modern priorities lack so much of the conviction that the kings of old once had.

[She can't quite keep the look of disgust from flickering across her face as Nigel mentions the word technologies; it's the sort of word that always seems to go hand-in-hand with machines, and her innate abhorrence of the mechanical--a sentiment that all people from her world share, and yet very few in the City seem to--is one that she's never been able to shake, no matter how much time she spends in a place where they come so readily accepted.]

They're ugly things anyway, machines. They're...unnatural.

[But she soon shakes that off, not wanting to linger on unpleasant thoughts, and the smile returns to her face.]

Mother and Daddy always taught me much the same, you know. The duty of a good ruler is to serve the people, no matter what, and if danger should befall the kingdom... [She pauses suddenly, but only for a moment.] Well. If there's a sacrifice to be made, the ruler is the one with the duty to make it. The people and the kingdom come first. That's what it means to be a proper princess...or king, or queen, or anything of the like.

[ As quickly as Rosella manages to shake that feeling of repulsion, Nigel's attention cannot help but catch on it, as if it were the sort of thing he'd been waiting for all along. The corners of his mouth tighten and then curve in a smile-like way. His voice is distant though his attention is focused. ]

I think it was very fortuitous that we met, Rosella.

nigel's mobile;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;

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you cannot map the ways of divinity;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;

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you cannot map the ways of divinity;

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you cannot map the ways of divinity;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;

you cannot map the ways of divinity;