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Post by Dristan de Archer on Aug 25, 2012 9:13:23 GMT -5
Dristan couldn’t recall seeing children this young in a tavern before, at least not in a long while. Those who had young children generally didn’t travel much, or thought to bring them to taverns. It wasn’t something that Dristan disapproved of, so long as they were kept under some sort of control, oh, and as long as they weren’t crying of course. If there was one thing that Dristan couldn’t stand, it was children crying. He couldn’t really think of a more horrific sound. These children seemed rather content, and though the father had an ale in front of him he seemed reasonably sober, so he couldn’t really say fairer than that. It seemed like quite a nice little set up, aside from the lack of a mother figure of course. That was something Dristan always noticed with young children, they were usually attached to their mother, or a wet-nurse if the family was rich enough. He couldn’t see either here though, and it was quite uncommon for a father to be tending to his children by himself, and in public. Dristan was well equipped to know that fact inside out. He shook the thoughts from his head and realised he was still in the company of the young girl.
She was a sweet little thing he supposed; Dristan didn’t really have that much experience with young children; he’d never really had the opportunity. The most experience he had of them was probably when they wanted him to show them his lute; he would often let the children who came to see him play have a little strum on the instrument. He had never really bothered with the younger children though. The girl was looking up at him with big eyes, her hand in her mouth. Dristan looked down at her, and then looked back to the father. Was he supposed to be doing something? He decided against doing anything encouraging with the girl and instead shook his head when the father spoke, “No, it’s fine honestly.” He grinned a little, “Not shy at all is she?” He asked, taking a sip of his ale before setting it down on the table. He hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything, maybe the mother had gone off to get drinks or something, and wouldn’t want this family time interrupting by anyone. Dristan was well used to latching onto whoever he could find in the tavern, or anywhere really. He generally didn’t have time to feel awkward about these kinds of situations.
Dristan notice another toddler sat by his father’s side, and seemed to be a lot more reserved than his sister. They were probably the most ginger children he had seen in, well, ever. He couldn’t really see the baby, but as long as they weren’t crying he couldn’t say that it mattered much. Babies all looked alike anyway. Taking another swig of his drink, Dristan looked at the little scene in front of him; someone had certainly been busy. “Looking after them on your own, are you?” He finally forced himself to ask; Dristan wasn’t sure he would be able to cope with one child, let alone three. He wasn’t sure whether to call the man in front of him an idiot or applaud him, “I’m Dristan by the way, sorry, terribly rude, I should have already introduced myself.” Physically batting away the comment with the back of his hand, he sat down, and took a sip of his ale, “This seat isn’t taken is it?” He asked, just before the little girl walked back over to him, and sat down by his feet, sucking her fingers. Dristan watched her, wondering what she was up to, if anything.
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Post by Dristan de Archer on Aug 21, 2012 20:10:03 GMT -5
Dristan was just about settling back into his life in Camelot, and he was even feeling a little more cheered than he had done in some time. Thinking on it, he was glad that he had been in such close proximity with his family, he had just needed a little push in the right direction to get him to finally take the plunge and journey back home, to his actual home. It was quite different of course to how he remembered it, as it appeared that his father had seen fit to take in one of his cousins, and therefore adopt her family along with her. Dristan didn’t mind of course, they all seemed pleasant enough, and his father clearly enjoyed their company. However, it was a little too loud in the home for Dristan for him to stay there for too long at a time. He therefore had taken to exploring Camelot and the fields beyond during long afternoons, and sometimes even during the mornings to see what he could find, and to see who would listen to his lute. It almost felt like he had never left, and now he was starting to settle in, and it was all going fine for the time being. It would never be the same of course, he knew that, but Camelot was his home, and he had come back to it.
Today Dristan had decided to explore the gardens; he had spent many a day out here in his teenage years watching the young noblewomen of the court passing him by. He used to catch every glimpse that he could, and he could still remember his first boyish crushes formed upon this very grass. He chuckled at his own sentimentality, sometimes he wondered just how old he actually was. This was a time to form new memories, he was still a young man and he had the world at his feet. Just because he had seen more of the world beyond Camelot than most nobles here didn’t mean anything really; here he was just like everyone else, and he preferred it that way. He would rather be remembered for the man he was now, rather than the foolish lovesick boy who had run away.
Strumming his lute as he walked along the gardens, he noted a distinct lack of women. Well this was disappointing, usually women came to his lute as moths did to a flame; without fail. Frowning, he looked around, where was everybody? Had he missed a feast? Or a joust? No, his father would have said something. Shrugging, he continued to pluck away at his lute, humming the tune along to the chords. Quite by accident, Dristan did eventually come across a young woman, decorated in daisies and barefooted, well, on one foot at least. Some men might have been embarrassed by such a scene, but Dristan was just intrigued, and strummed a sharp chord to grab the woman’s attention, accompanying it with a quick grin, “There will be no daisies left by the time you are finished, my Lady.” He chuckled a little, letting her know he spoke in jest.
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Post by Dristan de Archer on Aug 21, 2012 19:13:14 GMT -5
Today was the day, Dristan de Archer was finally going home. Well, he was in Camelot so technically he was home, but he knew he hadn’t actually done what he had intended yet; he had not yet ventured to the estate, and made his peace with his father. Instead he had travelled to Camelot under the cover of darkness and had been renting rooms in the rising sun for the past week or so. Overall this wasn’t going to plan. In his head, Dristan had mapped this all out, he was supposed to spend one night at the Rising Sun, comb his hair, get it cut, find some decent clothes and then go back home and see his father again. It had been too long, Dristan knew that, but he was his father, and he had to try regardless. However, it had been a week, and all he had done was sit here, drink, play the lute and watch the world go by from his window.
Everything seemed so new and different in Camelot now. Dristan remembered the King when he was still a young boy at court, and still a prince then. He had never met the Queen though, and he had been told on many occasions that this was a new time for Camelot, where commoners were knighted, and servant girls became Queen. Dristan had heard such tales when he had been in Caerlon’s kingdom, but he had never paid them much heed, thinking that those relaying them were probably drunk or repeating nonsense for the sake of their audience. However, the rumours were true, and Dristan was currently living in the middle of it. He fitted in quite well, considering he had been away for so long. Dristan had retained his accent, so not as many heads were turned when he opened his mouth as he had experienced in other kingdoms. It wasn’t a bad thing, the aim at the moment was to keep his head down, as he didn’t want his father to know he was here just yet.
It was afternoon by the time Dristan decided to leave his room. He slung his lute case across his back, the strap keeping it in place, and locked his room. Descending the stairs, he pocketed the keys, and looked around at the tavern; it wasn’t heaving, but neither was it empty. There were a few empty tables, but most were occupied with a gentle hum about the place. Dristan allowed himself to grin at the scene, he didn’t recognise any of the faces, not that he expected to. No one recognised him, so why should he be able to recognise others? On the first few days here he had been hoping to hear something of Melodie, some news or even just a glimpse of her, but he hadn’t dared ask or go looking. It would hurt too much, and he knew by now she would be married, and with children running around her feet. As long as she was happy that was all that mattered; him reappearing in her life would do nothing but upset her.
Walking up to the bar, Dristan was handed his usual ale by the landlord, who asked him how long he would be staying; Dristan shrugged in reply, and handed him a few coins to pay for the rent he owed so far. Turning back around, Dristan took in another quick glimpse of those who had pitched up in the tavern today. On the table nearest to him, in the corner and somewhat away from some of the locals, was a young man Dristan couldn’t recall seeing before; with two children toddling about and another in his arms. It struck him as odd, mainly as he had never seen men alone with children, or with them in a tavern. Before Dristan could move away, one of the toddlers had walked up to him, and had grabbed onto his trouser leg. Amused, Dristan took the girls (he assumed it was a girl) fingers from his trousers, and pointed her in the direction of her father (again, assuming this was the father and not some hapless babysitter) in the vein hope she would leave him be. “Looks like you have your hands full.” Dristan chuckled at the man in front of him, as he figured it would be rude to ignore the man completely, “Are all of these yours?” Tagged: Griff Aubert Timeline: Series 4-5 Gap Location: The Rising Sun Time of Day: Afternoon[/color][/size]
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Post by Dristan de Archer on Aug 21, 2012 18:20:32 GMT -5
Dristan de Archer puffed out his cheeks, and plucked a few strings on his lute before deciding that his ideas to be productive today had completely failed. He was a little irritated in himself for having not done more to enhance his day, but then the other side of his brain tugged at him, and reminded him that there was no one to tell of what he had done, even if he had done anything. The drunks in the tavern below him would believe anything he said, and if he had told them that he had gone up to the Queen of Caerleon that morning and kissed her square on the lips then they would probably believe him. Perhaps he could think of something a little more plausible to tell them all, instead of the truth, which was that he had been sat up here nursing a hangover for most of the day, the other part of his day had been taken up by sleeping off said hangover. It made no difference though, he would know he hadn’t done anything but sit up here all day, so it wouldn’t make him feel any better.
He had been ‘travelling’ now for months, and still he had not crossed the border. He had made up his mind to go back to Camelot, but he would do it in his own time. Dristan wasn’t even sure he wanted to live there any longer, what was there for him in Camelot? Well, there was more than in any other kingdom, but other kingdoms offered the opportunity of a fresh start, but without his noble title. Dristan plucked the strings at his lute, his nobility was a precious thing to him, and he would never let it go. His grip on the instrument tightened a little, and he breathed out to relax his body, setting his lute aside for the moment. Both his hands ran over tired eyes, he needed to go back, at the moment he was in limbo, and it wasn’t doing him any good sitting here watching his life go by. Nothing would change the past, if the last few years had taught him anything it was that. Life went on, and his needed to start again, even if that did mean going back to Camelot.
There was the fear he supposed as well, would his father even want him back? He might even be dead, it was a thought that Dristan had exercised a few times in his mind, after all, Camelot was not the safest place to live. Then again if he had died then someone would surely have come to fetch him, unless his father had really disinherited him then he was still heir. He didn’t even want the stupid bloody house; he had never really wanted it. Breathing out again, he groaned, he was getting angry, and he didn’t want to get angry, not tonight anyway. There was some talk of music and dancing and some group the landlord had hired for the evening. Dristan intended to take his lute and enjoy himself for the first time in quite some while and forget himself within his music. Yes, that was what he was going to do. He was going to lose himself in every chord, and tomorrow he would actually do something productive. Maybe. Grabbing his lute, he put it in its case and made his way downstairs, ordering himself some dinner, whatever they were serving, and an ale to wash it down. Taking his seat, he could see the group was already setting up, looking outside, Dristan was surprised to see the sun was already setting in the sky, Jesu, had he really wasted all day? Well, perhaps now was the time to turn things around somewhat. Tagged: Robyn Lester Timeline: Late series 4 Time of Day: Late afternoon/evening Location: A tavern on the border of Caerleon and Camelot[/color][/size]
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Post by Dristan de Archer on Aug 20, 2012 20:33:17 GMT -5
| ~ • ~ | Character Basics | ~ • ~ |
.:Name of Character:. Lord Dristan de Archer .:Nick Name:. Dris or Dristan to close friends .:Age:. 25 .:Race:. Camelotian .:Status:. Noble
| ~ • ~ | Appearance | ~ • ~ |
.:Physical Appearance:. Dristan is of a medium height, but is tall enough to not be considered small by most people’s standards. He has a mop of brown hair which can look smart when he remembers to brush it, otherwise it lies untidy and messy, though he seems to get more attention from the ladies when it is as such. Dristan has hazel eyes, and a boyish sort of face; he is usually well humoured and therefore a grin is never far from his lips. Though he is a noble, Dristan has no issue with wearing clothes ill fitting to his status if the situation calls for it; pride is not a virtue he is afforded often, and his appearance usually shows this. Though he dresses well when he can, he most wears what is available to him.
.:Height:. 5”11
.:Portrayed by:. Matt Smith
| ~ • ~ | Personality | ~ • ~ |
.:Personality:. Dristan is quite an independent being by nature; being an only child this is a trait he has had bred into him from a young age. He has learnt not to rely on others, and he will usually do most things for himself. Having said this, he still craves attention from some source, and could therefore not stand being completely alone, as he does enjoy occasional company. Dristan, like most of his family, has a quick wit and a fiery temper which is quick to show itself when provoked. Though he is a well humoured man, he has also inherited his father’s cynicism, and can sometimes be drawn into criticizing others to the point of irritation to those around him. Overall, Dristan is an outgoing and confident person, and has rarely let anything stand in the way of what he wants, including his own family ties. No one who was acquainted with Dristan would ever accuse him of being reserved or shy, and he usually throws himself into situations with unmistakable enthusiasm regardless of the task.
.:Strengths:. Dristan is accomplished on the lute, and enjoys playing it as he feels more at ease when he does. As he was brought up in a noble household, he also is handy with a sword and if the occasion calls for it, a bow, though he has little time for violence, and prefers a war of words rather than of swords (though he would not shy away from a fight if challenged). Dristan is also able to turn his hand to most professions, even if his efforts are not always fruitful. Since leaving Camelot, he has held a range of occupations, though most were on the sales side of matters, so he has developed fine tune ways of interacting with the public at large, no matter what the situation.
.:Weaknesses:. Dristan, as he is an independent person, tends to isolate himself without even realising what he is doing. He is not as quick to trust as most would be, and it takes a lot to earn his trust and respect. Like most nobles, he can in some aspects be considered proud, especially in matters regarding his family, though he would never admit to that. Though Dristan would like to think that he is able to live out his life how he wants, and without worrying about what others would think of him, Dristan is someone who needs to be wanted, and therefore does not suit a completely solitary lifestyle.
.:Magic Abilities:. Dristan has no natural magic, though on his travels he has come across merchants who have tried to sell him potions and charms, professing to him that they worked. Being away from Camelot has dampened Dristan’s views on magic a little, though he is still weary of its use.
.:Special Skills:. Dristan is an accomplished watcher of people, and can adapt extremely well to a change of circumstances. He is also an exceptional lute player, though his voice does not match up to his skills on the actual instrument.
.:Accents:. Upper class English, though he can put on most accents for a short time
| ~ • ~ | History | ~ • ~ |
.:Birthplace:. Camelot
.:Family:. Father: Lord Rouland Mother: Lady Ygraine (Deceased) Uncles: Lord Payton de Archer, Lord Thomas Bedver Aunts: Lady Ardith de Archer (Deceased) , Lady Grace Bedver Cousins: Guy, Bryce, Jeffrey, Aelfread, Ailith, Ysolde, Caitrin
.:Occupation:. Nobleman, sometimes a merchant
.:Current Location of Residence:. Caerleon’s Kingdom
.:History:.
Dristan de Archer was born as the first son of Lord Rouland and Lady Ygraine, and was a combination of Mercian and Camelotian blood. His mother was Camelotian by birth, and therefore knew the land well, and would often take her young son out riding as soon as he was able, and spent many an afternoon rambling the countryside with him. Dristan adored his mother, and she always promised to give him brothers and sisters, though year after year passed, and Dristan remained an only child. Dristan always wanted siblings, as he never had anyone to play with when he was young, as the boys who lived on his father’s estate would seldom play with him, as they were either afraid of conversing with a noble-boy, or they had work to do. It was instances like this which led Dristan to lead quite a lonely childhood. He was taken to court occasionally by his father and mother, and introduced to some of the other noble-boys, but he never struck up many friendships. Dristan began to seek solace in books, and in the lute which his mother had gifted to him, in the hope that he would have a talent that neither of his parents had ever exploited. Music came naturally to Dristan, though his father often discouraged it, in favour of his usual lessons. In his early years, and under the instruction of his mother, Dristan learned to go along with his father’s wishes to please him, and to do his own bidding once that was done. Therefore Dristan learned sword fighting, archery, history, geography, reading and writing from an early age as well as the lute. When Dristan was six years old, his mother announced that he would finally have a baby brother or sister. He was ecstatic at the news right through his mother’s pregnancy, and would often complain that it was taking too long, and that he just wanted to meet his baby brother or sister. Dristan awoke one night after the summer solstice to hear his mother screaming, and crying. Only a young boy, he was instantly distressed and demanded to know what was wrong with his mother, and screamed that he wanted to see her. His father conveyed him away from the birthing room, telling him that it was no place for children. By the morning the screams had stopped; Dristan was allowed to see his mother briefly, but was told not to wear her out. She looked frail and pale, though he didn’t really see that. She told him that his baby sister had been born still, and he tore from the room, not wanting his mother to see him cry. The next thing he remembered was his father coming to tell him that his mother had gone to follow his sister. It was a day that Dristan, now a fully grown man, would never revisit in his mind unless forced to. He never recovered from the deaths of his would be sister and mother, and is sure he never will. His childhood from then on became quite isolated, as his father would seldom leave the house, which confined Dristan there as well until he reached thirteen, an age Rouland deemed was suitable for the boy to go off into Camelot by himself. Dristan enjoyed the colourful life at court, and was quite star struck at first as his life had previously been quite quiet. Dristan would on occasion play his lute to the noblewomen of the court, and used the attentions to his complete advantage. When Dristan reached the age of sixteen, he fell head over heels in love for a young noblewoman called Lady Melodie. She returned his affections, and Dristan was on the brink of asking for her hand in marriage when Rouland caught wind of what was going on and forbade his son from having anything to do with Melodie, explaining that her father had already betrothed her to another nobleman. Dristan refused to accept the fact, but by the time Dristan returned to Melodie, she was engaged, and her father threw him out of the house. Though he should have been angry at her family, he instead directed most of his anger towards his father, believing that if Rouland had not interfered then he and Melodie would be engaged, and she wouldn’t be being married to another. When confronted with this, his father made a comment along the lines of “Having no intention to let his son marry such a low noblewoman anyway.” Which tipped Dristan over the edge. Grabbing his lute, what coin and food he could muster, he announced to his father that he was leaving and would not be returning. After another heated argument, Dristan saddled up his horse, and left the estate without a plan, and without a single thought of ever returning to Camelot. Eventually, Dristan decided to seek refuge with his Aunt and Uncle, on his mother’s side, in Caerleon’s Kingdom. His aunt, Lady Grace, was the sister of his mother, and had married a nobleman of lower standings in the world, but they took Dristan in regardless, and helped him to settle into his new home. Thomas and Grace became Dristan’s life. They had fallen on hard times, and Thomas, though noble by blood, was reduced to selling fabrics, herbs, spices and other such wares to those who traded on markets. They were supposed to be a middle trader, though that trade quickly dried up, and Dristan took the initiative to sell the wares on a stall by himself. At first he was like a fish out of water, and was terrible at haggling, and selling anything from a piece of fabric right to belt buckles and clasps. After some time, Dristan did become more skilled with his sales, and began to run quite a successful business. He used his Aunt and Uncle’s home as a base, and would often venture to other towns, and on occasion, other kingdoms- though never Camelot- to trade in his Uncle’s name. It kept the family afloat for years, and all thoughts of Camelot often disappeared completely from Dristan’s mind. Dristan’s little lot was going perfectly, until one winter a plague ripped through the village and took his Uncle Thomas in his sleep, leaving a widow and an estate which was practically on its knees. His Aunt was quickly asked for her hand in marriage, and having no other option she accepted; though there was one condition, that her nephew was turned out of the estate. Dristan, upon hearing this, left the next morning, making his aunt’s decision easier. It had now been nearly seven years since Dristan had left Camelot. His Uncle had gifted him a handsome sum of money with which to return home and make a new life for himself. All thoughts of returning home often banished when he thought of Melodie, the more time had passed, the less Dristan thought about her if he could help it. Dristan eventually, after a month of wandering, swallowed his pride and made the decision to return to Camelot; though he fully intended to take the long route home.
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