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fēorða • [ location : the smithy ]

The palace was a quiet place since Gwen and Casey’s return from H. C. Clements. She had spent plenty of time away from Morgana back in Camelot, as her mistress didn’t always need her maidservant to accompany her on trips. There was, of course, more down time than usual, but in a busy castle filled with never finished chores there always had been something for her to occupy herself with. With an absent prince (that she tried her best not to think on) and no mistress to run the house, Gwen did the best to tend to what Morgana would have were she there, but once those things were settled she had only wasted a small portion of the morning.

Once breakfast was had and her cloak was retrieved Gwen opened her tablet and used the pen-like stylus to write Casey a note, sent directly to his machine, to inform him she would be at the Smithy for the day. There were still a great number of things about the device that made little sense to her, but the ability to hand write things on the Tablet made her more inclined to use it. She hid it back away in her bracelet, a constant reminder of the captivity within the city, and set out the short distance to her piece of home.

It felt more like home. There was so much to do around the place, it was a welcome distraction from the eventfulness of her arrival. She hardly had time to sit and enjoy it since coming here, aside from the few moments she spent alone in this very room singing to herself about her father...

With the weapons used for the rescue operation all stacked on the workbench and in need of sharpening and repair, she started by lighting a fire and hatching some water for cooling. The least damaged dagger in the bunch would have to do for now. She sat sharpening it by hand while she waited on the fire, checking the edge from time to time for a proper taper before sliding the sharpener across the blade once more. It was almost second nature for her, and in this setting she could hardly believe she was away from Camelot.

[ ooc | slightly revised. ]

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Casey continues to look over at Guinevere for a long moment, not saying anything. He can read between the lines. Can hear the thinly veiled worry in her voice. He can't think of anything to say to reassure her. Not this time. After all, he's never met the guy and for all he knows, he really has been disappeared. Like the guy who was singing that duet with the that young gal who was crying.

Even though a part of him wants to tell her something comforting, he opts for the uncomfortable truth instead.

"When I went in to rescue Morgana, I didn't see anyone else. I mean, according to the others, the abductees were all accounted for. I'm sorry."

In a way she sort of appreciates his brutal honesty. Up until recently her whole life was a bit coddling while she lives in the safe walls of Camelot with the ideal job, a lovely family and the best friend for a mistress. It wasn't until she was accused of being a witch and spent some time in the dungeon that she realized the world was a lot darker than it appeared at first. She isn't hard like Casey by a long shot, but she considers herself a realist when it comes to this sort of thing.

"Perhaps that is for the best," she says softly to herself as she pulls out a cloth to clear the sword's blade. Her voice is shaky, and though she would very much like to believe her own words, it is almost a question. "...I do not know how well Morgana and I will fare here alone."

She shakes her head some to herself, blinking against the glassiness welling in her eyes. She sets the sword aside and stands, stepping over to where Casey quickly. She's quick to shift the subject and her focus; this was not a topic on which she wished to dwell.

"It-it's best to go up along the rows when cleaning the maces," and her voice is still shaky but she raises it in an attempt to suppress it as she points out whats she means in a gesture along the mace he holds. "Otherwise you will snag the cloth and take forever."

Casey turns back to his task, not wanting to make Guinevere feel worse by watching her when she's clearly in a bad way. He's always uncomfortable, anyway, when people look like they're gonna cry. Never knows what to do or say. Unless it's someone like Bartowski and then he just rolls his eyes at all that emo-crap.

He wants to tell her that she's not alone. He'll stick around if they need protection. But he can't promise that he won't get taken, or won't be looking for a way to leave.

Casey looks up at her when she comes over to him, hovering, pointing out that he's doing things the wrong way. He almost retorts that he would've figured it out for himself eventually, but he knows she needs something else to talk about, something else to think about so he just starts moving the wash rag the way she said to do it.

"Like that?"

"Yes, exactly," she says lightly now with the weakest of smiles and a short, nervous laugh. "You're a natural. If only I could use the weapons as well as I knew them."

It's not long before she steps away, giving him some space, back over to her group of dirty and damaged weapons. She searches through the pile, shifting through it for nothing in particular, picking up a short sword this time that was relatively intact. She grabs her rag and begins cleaning it, keeping her eyes down on her work as she speaks to Casey.

"You know, I think Morgana and I would feel more comfortable with someone around. Someone we trusted," her comment is hardly wrought with implication, though she sends a sideways glance to him to assess his reaction to the comment.

"A natural? Yeah, I bet you say that to all the guys." He tosses back, giving her a quick wink and a smirk which doesn't linger too long. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, just cheer her up a little.

When Guinevere leaves him to continue cleaning and hints at him staying, he glances over at her and catches her checking for his reaction.

"I guess I could stay on at the palace longer if it makes you both feel more secure. Maybe have a look at your defenses and see to fortifying the place against other incursions."

Edited 2010-06-14 11:12 (UTC)

His comment takes her off guard, as well as that wink, but all she does is look a little shocked and amused at it. There was a time when it might have made her blushed or flustered, but now all she can do is send a genuine, honest laugh his direction.

"And you must flatter all the ladies," she says, very matter-of-fact as she teases him.

It's lighter, happier, more relaxed. It may be a distraction but it reminds her of being off duty with her friends outside of court where she didn't have to be prim and proper. Even in Taxon she feels it's right to maintain a certain composure around the strangers who knew her mistress, but behind the doors of the Smithy all of that does not matter.

"I think Morgana would appreciate it. I know that I would, Casey."

"Only the pretty ones." He smirks and tosses the mace aside, reaching for another blunt weapon to clean. "And the name's John, by the way. Just...you know, if you wanted to call me by my first name. Seeing as I get to call you Guinevere and all." He pauses for a moment. "That is your first name, right?"

She's already turned her attention back to her sword when he speaks again, and she lets out a light laugh again to herself with a roll of her eyes. This time, however, she certainly is blushing.

"I think I can manage using John," looking over at him once again she nods. "Yes, but my friends usually call me Gwen. You may-- that is, if you want. I am certainly fine with whatever, either way."

Edited 2010-06-15 06:39 (UTC)

Mission accomplished. He pretends that the club he's washing is of great interest for a while.
"Gwen's a lot less of a mouthful, at any rate. I like it. Less intimidating."

Well, that's only because he knows how the legend goes. What she becomes. A sovereign queen. This place is definitely screwed up. Still, if he can't find a way back to Walker and Bartowski, things aren't so bad here.

Edited 2010-06-16 01:52 (UTC)

"My name is intimidating?" She's a bit shocked at the idea. She's never been told she's intimidating ever. It's really quite the opposite with her. "Hopefully Gwen will be more to your tastes, hopefully it's more timid."

Future queen or no, Guinevere is as casual as the rest when out of The presence of others, though it's a shame she knows so little of Casey.

"John, what did you do exactly back where you're from...if you don't mind me asking?" She's received bits and pieces of information, but being someone who uses weapons and protects people is quiet vague in her time.

It is when you put 'Queen' in front of it, but Casey keeps that to himself.

"I didn't mean it that way. I just...it's more informal. Like a nickname."

Yeah, maybe he should just stop trying to explain.

Her next question, though, causes him to stop what he's doing for a few seconds, to tense slightly before he goes back to his task. It was a question he should have expected, should have been prepared for. He's really going soft these days on his spy training. There's no way she's gonna buy him being just a washed up retail salesman. So, the best thing to do is tell the truth but also skirt around the ugly reality of what he does. He doesn't want Gwen to see him as a cold-blooded assassin-type, even though that's a significant part of his job description.

"I used to be in the military a long time ago, now I work for the government. The ruling body of my country, I guess you could say. I'm an enforcer. I protect my government's secrets from getting into the wrong hands."

Maybe, but she's still looking thoroughly amused regardless. Why he needs to feel so formal around her is something she's yet to understand, but perhaps where he comes from she holds herself more like a refined lady.

"I assure you Cas--John, I am no Lady. Formality is unnecessary. I hope I didn't give you that impression. Around Morgana it's hard to forget how to properly act around nobility, I admit."

Gwen takes notes of the discomfort the topic causes him and focuses her gaze back down on the weapons she's inspecting in hopes to alleviate that some. She can't help but feel a little guilty for asking him something that has bothered him. Once he begins explaining, however, she quickly ponders that from what she knows of it. Mercenaries hired by the King to keep the peace did a world of mucky work to keep the courtier's hands clean as well as the Knights'. But if not a knight what else is a man with his skillset to do? She can imagine such a dilemma is as true to his time as it is to hers, and that thought makes her worry for the long departed Lancelot.

"So your knowledge of weapons is no coincidence. Tell me, are they all like that-- What was it?-- tranquilizer gun you had before?"

Gwen chooses not to dwell on the details of his profession, as they both seem better off away from that subject.

"Just because you're not technically a lady, doesn't mean you shouldn't be treated with respect. Your time's a lot different from mine. How people relate to each other. How men and women relate to each other. I didn't wanna commit some mistake which'd get me in hot water with you or Morgana."

Casey finishes with the weapon he's cleaning and grabs another. It helps to have something to do, otherwise he might find himself wanting to look at her more than he should.

"I'm trained in various forms of combat. Hand-to-hand, martial weapons, ranged weapons. A tranquilizer gun is a weapon that shoots tiny projectile darts. Puts a target to sleep rather than ripping bloody holes into their flesh. I prefer guns in general, it's my strongest skill set."

He may be concentrating solely on his work, but Guinevere turns towards him and divides her attention equally between him and her sword as he speaks. She tilts her head some at his comment on how men and women relate to one another.

"Regardless you have little to worry about. I've had my fill of proper facades," she says a bit nostalgic as she recalls how easy she could be around Merlin. There's a hint of humor in her voice as she continues; "Though you must explain to me someday what these differences in how men and women relate are."

She frowns a bit at that, turning her attention back to the pile of weapons she polishes. "It would seem in your world there is little difference in our soldiers.

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fēorða • [ location : the smithy ]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy] hello sad casey icon D: my fail class is OVER though, yay :D

[location: the Smithy] Yay! /hugs I have sadder icons

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy]

[location: the Smithy] lol that icon