Helpless, but not Hopeless (open)

[Elaine of Astolat]

Elaine felt the a sickening lurch and then she was falling. She let out a small shriek before she could stop herself. And then she was lying in the ground, her ankle hurting. She must have twisted it when she landed. It had all happened so fast. It didn't feel like anything more than a twisted ankle, perhaps a sprain, but she would be alright. She hadn't broken a bone thankfully.

She looked around her as she sat there on the ground. Wherever she was, something was not right here. The edge of the forest was dark and mysterious. It looked like no human had walked here in many years. It felt wild and untamed. It sent a shiver down her spine. She stood, carefully. It was twilight and it would soon be dark. It would be darker sooner if she did not away from these woods.

Elaine was quite aware that she had no weapons. The best she could do would be to pull out her embroidery scissors. They were sharp but they were so small. They would be all but useless unless she was being attacked. And even then it would have to be a very close range attack. She wished that her mother had allowed her to keep a weapon on her person. It wasn't ladylike to brandish weapons but she would have felt much with at a dagger at the very least. She didn't like feeling completely helpless.

She limped forward, bracing herself on a tree as she did. She ought to find shelter immediately. With night falling she hardly wanted to spend the night fending off whatever creatures might be lurking there, waiting to snack on helpless young maidens. She limped onward, looking as confident as one could while limping

[Phoebus]

He had landed spread-eagled on the ground, on his face, in a patch of mud. Well, that was just typical, wasn't it. Phoebus muttered to himself for a moment, before pushing himself to his feet, and looking around, feebly attempting to shake some of the mud off his uniform. He looked down at himself and sighed - he'd spent about three hours polishing his uniform last night, and of course, that strange blue swirl had thrown him into mud. It couldn't have thrown him down a foot to the left, into that nice, soft, mudless patch of grass, could it? No, it was face first into the mud for Phoebus.

"Wonderful." He muttered, picking up his sword and wiping some of the mud off in the patch of grass he'd been looking at somewhat longingly.

He considered sheathing his sword - the woods he was in appeared deserted - but he quickly dismissed that thought. Always be prepared, that was a soldier's mantra, and seeing as this was definitely not the woods he'd been in with his men only moments before, he figured keeping his sword out was probably a very good idea.

"Well, never gained anything from standing around." He told himself, deciding to set off on what appeared to be some kind of path ahead - although these woods looked oddly overgrown and uninhabited. It wasn't like anywhere he'd been before, and he wondered if he was even in France anymore. It was beginning to get dark, and he set off, alert to his surroundings as a trained soldier should be.

He hadn't gone far when he saw a figure ahead, limping through the woods and clearly struggling. He squinted in the dim light, trying to make out if it was likely to be a friend or foe, and realised it was a young woman. Attempting to brush a little more mud off, he made his way toward her, calling out as he did and hoping he wouldn't startle her.

"Excuse moi, Mademoiselle? Pardon, ou suis-je?"

[Elaine of Astolat]

Elaine was trying to remain vigilant. Every sound in the forest made her afraid. She had heard of stories of wolf packs devouring women and children. And whatever other creatures came out in the night would be moving about by now. She ought to find a large branch that she could swing at anything that got to close. Or perhaps that large branch would be better served as a cane or walking stick. Something that she could apply some weight to that would give her ankle a chance to heal a bit.

She turned at the sound of the voice. A French voice. Could it be that she was still in France? That they were both in France still? How very strange. "I am afraid I have no idea," she called back in French, standing still and waiting for this man, whomever he may be, to approach her. It was hard to tell if he would be a friend of a foe. "We seem to have only just gotten here." It was convenient that they seemed to be traversing the forest together. It did not pass her notice that they had seemingly arrived with so little time between them, however, at the moment it was purely coincidence. She would not think otherwise unless it was proven to be so, or unless she had further suspicions.

It was unseemly for a lady of her rank to be seen unchaperoned with a man she did not know, but needs must at the moment. "May I know your name, Monsieur?" she asked. It would be quite unladylike to introduce herself first. And it would be unchivalrous for a true gentleman to insist she give her name first anyway, which gave her the upper hand. She would know exactly who she was dealing with first and react accordingly.

[Phoebus]

He felt a sense of relief wash over him as the lady responded in French - at least he was still in his own country. Perhaps he wasn't that far from his troops at all, perhaps he had somehow just ended up further into the same woods he had been scouting. If that was the case, at least he would be able to make it back easily enough.

He caught up with the lady - as a lady she clearly was, judging by her dress, her response and the way she held herself. Although, now Phoebus considered it, her attire was a little, well, old-fashioned. He supposed she must be a lady of an outlying province, where perhaps the modern fashions of Paris had not quite reached yet.

As he reached her and she asked his name, he sheathed his sword and bowed formally, taking her hand in his and courteously bringing it to his lips. As he looked up and took her in properly, he couldn't help but smile. What luck he had, to stumble upon a lady of such beauty! "My name is Sergeant Phoebus de Châteaupers, my lady." He introduced himself formally, in French. "I am a Sergeant of the French army, stationed just outside Paris, but..." he straightened up again, looking around. "I'm not sure I am actually near Paris anymore."

He offered her an arm, ever the chivalrous soldier, and smiled at her. "I noticed you appear to be injured, my lady, please, allow me to assist you until we find some more suitable aid. I would offer you my horse, but alas, he does not appear to have followed me through... whatever it was that brought me here."

[Elaine of Astolat]

Elaine saw the recognition in his eyes. He could tell that she was a lady, or at least someone of importance. She wondered if it was her dress. It was one of her simpler gowns in her signature blue, but she was also wearing her silver belt. Not only did he recognize this, but he respected it and acted accordingly. She curtsied, dipping her head in his direction as he kissed her hand. Has her heart not belonged to another she might have said that she was enchanted by this handsome young Sargeant. He certainly good looking and ladies always liked a man with a sword.

“I am Elaine de Blank, daughter of Sir Bernard of Astolat,” she said, her voice soft but firm. It was a long introduction without someone else to introduce her, but it would suffice. She was widely known through France for her beauty though she had so rarely left her home, but if, by some chance, her name was unknown to Phoebus, then it was likely that he would know her father. Or even Astolat.

She was relieved when Phoebus offered his arm without prompting. She certainly needed it and she was grateful. Her features softened just a fraction as she took his arm. “Thank you. I am afraid I may have sprained my ankle. Whatever magical force out me here, it was not kind.” She hoped that the horse was safe wherever it was at the moment.

She looked ahead. It was getting noticeably darker by the minute. “Shall we continue on? We ought to search for shelter before night descends.”

[Phoebus]

Astolat... it sounded familiar, and yet Phoebus couldn’t work out where he knew the name from. He racked his brains trying to place it, but had to assume that it was as he thought, an outlying province he had heard mentioned in the ranks, or that he had read about somewhere. And yet he felt a strange familiarisation, as if it was somewhere he knew well.

He pushed the thought from his mind to focus on the injured lady in front of him, figuring that it would come to him later.

He smiled as she took his arm, allowing her to put her weight on him and supporting her as they’d began to move off through the forest together. He almost stopped as she mentioned magic, and he turned his head to look at her. He had never encountered magic directly, but he had heard stories of the evils that magic brought, and he had seen many a witch burning in his life. He frowned slightly, wondering if he should unsheathed his sword again. “You believe it was magic that brought us here, my lady?” He asked, quietly, looking around and making sure to stay alert, his senses on edge. “I suppose that would make sense, I have never seen anything like the thing that brought me here. I wonder what purpose we have been brought here for.”

“Yes, we should try and find some form of shelter before darkness falls.” He agreed, helping her through the trees. “I’m not sure we will find anything befitting a lady of your status though.” He said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “How do you feel about roughing it a little, my lady?”

[Elaine of Astolat]

Elaine put her weight on Sargeant Phoebus as they walked. She hoped that she would not worsen the strain on her ankle more by walking on it, but it seemed a necessary evil. She was very lucky that Phoebus had come along when he had. She might have faced a much worse fate if he had not come along precisely when she needed him

The reaction to magic was sharp, as if it had been something he had not taken into account. Magic was not the most commonplace in Astolat, but it was there and it was not something she had to fear. There were many who feared magic however. She wondered which way Sargeant Phoebus would fall if she pressed him about it. She would not press him though. It would be much more interesting to see how he reacted without it. It would be far more telling about his character.

“What else could it be if not magic?” She asked, wondering if he would even have an explanation. Perhaps he might. He was a Sargeant and unless his status as an officer has been purchased, then he may be the kind of Sargeant that had half a brain. “Magic tends to have a purpose all it's own. But people have started going missing so I can only hope that they are also here.”

Elaine was amused. She had to admit that Phoebus was not wrong in questioning her as such. She was clearly used to the finer things in life. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I think you will find, Sargeant, that I can rise to any occasion. Even if it is, as you put it, roughing it.”

[Phoebus]

He thought for a moment at her question, trying to think of an alternative explanation for the thing that had stolen him from his scouting mission and deposited him in the unfamiliar forest. There had to be a logical explanation, surely - he wasn't entirely sure he believed in magic, after all. The witches he had seen burned had been accused of things that any educated man could explain with science - failing crops, sudden illnesses, dying livestock, barren hens. He had never heard of any witch accused of creating a giant blue circle of light that stole people from their homes and sent them to strange places.

And yet - he did not have any other explanation. He nodded his head slightly in consensus with her explanation. "I think you may be right, my lady, magic does appear to be the only logical explanation. Although my experience with magic is somewhat limited - to be honest I wasn't entirely sure I believed it existed. It's not commonplace in Paris, it must be said, except perhaps among the gypsies. But even then I believe it's more sleight of hand and misdirection than anything particularly mysterious."

He frowned at her next words, looking at her with concern and professional interest - he was working towards being a chivalrous hero, after all. "People have gone missing? From your home - from Astolat? That must be concerning - are they people close to you?" He looked around, still sharp and alert for anything out of the ordinary. "Hmmm, if they are here, I wonder where they would have gone. Forests like these are easy to get lost in if you don't know your way." He smiled charmingly at Elaine. "Or unless you have an excellent sense of direction, as I do."

He couldn't help but laugh at her reaction to his question, his opinion of her rising. "I don't doubt it, my lady, you don't seem to be too much of a wilting flower, as many other ladies are." He grinned at her. "With any luck, we can find you somewhere more befitting of your station, but it's good to know you aren't afraid of a little discomfort." He continued to lead her through the woods, a small smile playing about his lips as he pushed things a little further. "Of course, as your protector I vow to make whatever situation we find ourselves in as comfortable for you as possible."

[Elaine of Astolat]

Ahh. So that was the source of such a reaction to magic. He had little exposure to it. Elaine had had little experience with magic in the sense of seeing it first hand. However, she had heard of magic users. She had met magic users. And in general magic was helpful and good. "It is not common within Astolat either, but there is nothing to fear from magic. If we have been brought here then I do not think it was for some nefarious purpose." She didn't even doubt that there were some among the gypsies.

Elaine looked up and Phoebus, noticing the concern. "Oh no," she hurried to say, understanding the confusion. "No, no one from Astolat has disappeared. No, I'm afraid I mean in Camelot." She gave Phoebus a rather pointed look at that. Surely the news had made its way to Paris. "King Arthur is gone, so the rumors say. And so is his wife."

Witout meaning to, Elaine was finding herself more and more charmed by this Sergeant. He was a very interesting man. "Yes, I'm afraid I have an excellent sense of direction." She took after her father in more ways than one. She had studied his maps thoroughly as a girl. "Though I'm afraid we have very few forests in Astolat and none quite so desolate as these."

She should not have been surprised by the laughter, but she was. She showed this only in the arch of her eyebrows. It was true that she was no wilting flower. She had never been. She was too serious for that. Her mother had always said so and Elaine believed it. "I think you'll find that I would never ask someone to do something that I wouldn't at least try." She nodded, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. "That is very kind of you. I appreciate all your efforts."

[Phoebus]

He had opened his mouth to respond, when he froze at her mention of Camelot. He stopped in his tracks, forcing Elaine to stop as well, and turned and stared at her. "Camelot?" He repeated uncertainly, wondering if he'd misheard her. "Camelot, as in, Albion? Home to King Arthur and his knights? The round table? Merlin? Morgan and Mordred and the lady of the lake? Excalibur?" He had read those tales many, many times. He frowned at her in utter confusion for a moment, before laughing.

"Oh, it's a joke, of course, good one my lady! Camelot - you almost had me there for a minute." He suddenly realised where he recognised the name 'Astolat' from - the story of Elaine and Lancelot. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly. "So... where are you really from? Other than the legendary and no longer existing world of Arthur and his knights? You know, I new I recognised the name Astolat. So what are you hiding from that you're giving false names?" He frowned at her, his expression suddenly serious. "Who are you running from? Are you in danger, or are you the danger?"

[Elaine of Astolat]

The sudden stop made Elaine wince visibly and she leaned into Phoebus for a moment as the pain darted up her ankle into her leg. “Yes,” she answered, somehow managing to keep the pain out of her voice. It seemed strange that Phoebus, a Frenchman, was asking these questions as if he did not believe her. That was strange. She was not sure what she had said to warrant this reaction.

And then the next question had Elaine suddenly angry. She had been magically kidnapped, hurt and lost and now she was not being taken seriously. She let go of Phoebus’ arm, her face blank of emotion. She was cool and calm and collected. She tilted her chin up just slightly in defiance. Her eyes were angry, but nothing else. “Are you addressing me in this manner?” she asked, using her most stately voice. She was proud. “Do you dare to call me a liar?” There was just a hint of frost in her voice. “I am not sure what things are like in Paris, but in Astolat, when a lady tells you her name she means it.” Her gaze was intense as she stared him down. “If you do not wish to believe me then you may go. I shall find my own way out of this forest. You are released from your duty to me as a lady.” She waved her hand towards the trees. “I shall not stop you, certainly.”

[Phoebus]

Well, she definitely spoke like a lady, and had the cold hostility of a lady as well. He stared at her in confusion. Was she that good a con artist? Or was she deluded? Phoebus had come across his fair share of crazies in Paris, poor deluded souls who believed they were kings, queens, he'd even had to deal with one once who believed he was Jesus. That poor man hadn't faired well when the judges got hold of him. But this woman was different, apart from anything else she didn't look or smell like a crazy. But she had to be, to believe she was Elaine of Astolat, stepped straight from the pages of his childhood storybook.

He studied her as she waved him away, staunchly remaining stood in front of her. He decided to try reasoning with her, hoping that she would either break under his reason, or reveal herself to be truly crazy, in which case he could help her get the help she needed.

"My lady," he began, "please, let me explain why I doubt you. You are telling me that you hail from Astolat, from Camelot - but I grew up reading the stories of King Arthur and his knights of the round table - and how could I have read those stories fifteen years ago if they are not over yet? If they have not happened?" He rubbed his head, frowning - how could he explain this? "Before I was brought through that... magical gateway, I was a soldier in Paris. In 1453. The stories of King Arthur and his knights took place in the twelfth century - three hundred years before I was born."

He offered her his arm once more. "Now, I would not leave any lady in distress, particular in an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous forest such as this. Please - allow me to escort you to civilisation, and we can figure all this out."

Either she was crazy, or he was hallucinating. Which he was starting to think was more and more likely with every passing moment.

[Elaine of Astolat]

Elaine could be stubborn when she wanted to be. She could be extremely stubborn when it was required if her as well. She wondered if she would need to stubbornly send him away and leave herself defenseless yet again. It would not wound her pride much to go with him regardless. She would rather have the safety that another person provided than to do something foolish.

She tilted her head slightly to the side to show that she was listening as the Sergeant began to explain. Could it be possible that she was so old to have histories written about her? How could she possibly be involved in the history of Camelot and the knights of the round table? That was intriguing and yet it did not explain anything.

Elaine pulled out a small bible out of the small pouch that hung from her waist. She opened the cover. There was her name and her date of birth. She showed Phoebus. “My father had this inscribed the day that I was born.” If that did not prove who she was then nothing would. “And furthermore, magic is a strange and powerful force. It could have taken you from your time and me from mine. I would not be surprised.” She snapped the book closed and tucked it back in her bag.

“I would very much like to get out of these woods, so if you have any further disbelief on the subject of identity I would appreciate it if you could wait.” She took his arm again. “Carry on.”

[Phoebus]

Well, she was certainly taking all this better than he was. He stared at the bible, at her name written clearly inside, her date of birth - which made her substantially older than Phoebus - before she snapped the book closed, and he continued to stare at the spot where it had been for a couple more minutes.

He was hallucinating. That had to be it. Or maybe he hadn't actually left his bed that morning, perhaps he was still there, dreaming away, inventing this whole utterly bizarre scenario. That had to be. He was dreaming. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed about meeting members of King Arthur's court, although it was usually Lancelot, Gawain, Merlin, Arthur, someone a little more central to the story. This was definitely new.

His stare moved to her hand as she took his arm again, and he began to laugh. "Alright, fine, I'll play along. I'm dreaming, I'll wake up soon - probably just as we get to a good bit, isn't that always the way?" He looked at Elaine and grinned. "But that's fine, we'll carry on and I'll wake up and go off on that scouting mission and everything will be normal." He looked up at the sky. "I wonder if we'll encounter any flying pigs, or unicorns." He laughed again, setting back off through the woods, supporting Elaine once more. "At least I'm not going to die, you never die in your own dreams, right?" He shook his head, unable to control his laughter.

[Elaine of Astolat]

Elaine could not believe what she was hearing. This man. This knight. This Sergeant would rather believe that he was dreaming than believe that he was really and truly here. He would rather believe that she was a figment of his imagination than actually a flash and blood person. She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him. She wanted to tell him that this was certainly not a dream unless they were both having a shared hallucination. What she did do was take a breath and send a silent prayer for patience.

“And what, pray tell, would be the good bit?” she asked. If this was a dream she couldn't imagine what part of being lost in the forest would be the good part. She very nearly sighed audibly but managed to catch herself before she did. “Shall I pinch you to make sure you're not dreaming?” Pinching Phoebus would certainly make her feel better about all of this nonsense.

Elaine shook her head. She dreamt that she had died once or twice before. It wasn't a usual kind of dream, but it happened. “That's an old wives tale. Most people don't dream of their own death, but some do.” There was a sudden rustling of bushes and Elaine looked towards the source. She figured it was only some kind of first animal. A squirrel perhaps or a rabbit. Though it sounded bigger than that. “Is there something over there?” She asked. “Do you think it's a wolf?”