[ As she listens, Saber's brow unknits and her expression eases. She's learned by now not to listen to Magilou's words as much as her sentiment, and the warmth in her voice is clear. Even if Magilou can't call herself content, she has at least one person to admire and feel camaraderie with. That's enough, at least in the short term. It's enough to know that Magilou hasn't only known misery and a facade of happiness since Melchior abandoned her, and that when she returns to her homeworld, she'll have people somewhere out there to welcome her back.
By the time Magilou finishes speaking, the corners of Saber's mouth have unconsciously lifted into a smile. It's nice to hear Magilou describing someone with sincere praise... even if it was prefaced by a couple customary complaints. ]
I am happy to hear it.
[ And she means it... That's her short but heartfelt assessment.
Oh. Now that the mood's lifted a little, she remembers that she has some fish to eat and something to explain. With habitual care so as not to appear inelegant (#justroyaltythings), Saber lifts the leather notebook she set aside what seems like a lifetime ago and offers it to Magilou. It's the notebook she received to write a wish in months ago, though the actual page containing her wish has long been ripped out. ]
Speaking of wretched crews, I wanted you to have this.
[ If Magilou opens it, she'll find it packed with Saber's neat, flowing handwriting from cover to cover. With a quick skim, it'll become evident that they're all stories describing a great, great number of Sirs, from Sir Kay to Sir Gareth to Sir Lancelot to Sir Galahad. (Also, Merlin.) There are so many names and so many stories that frankly no one could be expected to remember them all upon first read, but there are a few more relevant names as well: Sir Tristan (whose deeds were mighty and love affairs torrid), Sir Mordred (who comes across as frankly quite thuggish), and King Arthur (who seems to only serve as distributor of quests for the other knights).
Upon closer read, the tales are all told with a dry but somehow enthusiastic flourish. The necessary exposition is (perhaps too) detailed, and the knights' misdeeds, which are startlingly common, are spelled out and censured firmly as if Saber were trying to lecture her knights across time and space. But the action is written with an excited polish and no expense is spared in praising the knights' good deeds as they bravely navigate the magical, fantastical land of Britain. In the end, Saber wrote everything out lovingly, hoping to have Magilou understand how extraordinary her knights of Camelot actually were. ]
no subject
By the time Magilou finishes speaking, the corners of Saber's mouth have unconsciously lifted into a smile. It's nice to hear Magilou describing someone with sincere praise... even if it was prefaced by a couple customary complaints. ]
I am happy to hear it.
[ And she means it... That's her short but heartfelt assessment.
Oh. Now that the mood's lifted a little, she remembers that she has some fish to eat and something to explain. With habitual care so as not to appear inelegant (#justroyaltythings), Saber lifts the leather notebook she set aside what seems like a lifetime ago and offers it to Magilou. It's the notebook she received to write a wish in months ago, though the actual page containing her wish has long been ripped out. ]
Speaking of wretched crews, I wanted you to have this.
[ If Magilou opens it, she'll find it packed with Saber's neat, flowing handwriting from cover to cover. With a quick skim, it'll become evident that they're all stories describing a great, great number of Sirs, from Sir Kay to Sir Gareth to Sir Lancelot to Sir Galahad. (Also, Merlin.) There are so many names and so many stories that frankly no one could be expected to remember them all upon first read, but there are a few more relevant names as well: Sir Tristan (whose deeds were mighty and love affairs torrid), Sir Mordred (who comes across as frankly quite thuggish), and King Arthur (who seems to only serve as distributor of quests for the other knights).
Upon closer read, the tales are all told with a dry but somehow enthusiastic flourish. The necessary exposition is (perhaps too) detailed, and the knights' misdeeds, which are startlingly common, are spelled out and censured firmly as if Saber were trying to lecture her knights across time and space. But the action is written with an excited polish and no expense is spared in praising the knights' good deeds as they bravely navigate the magical, fantastical land of Britain. In the end, Saber wrote everything out lovingly, hoping to have Magilou understand how extraordinary her knights of Camelot actually were. ]