forum A Blade to the Neck Is a Gateway to the World | one on one, closed

Started April 17, 2022 by @Mojack group

tune

It was impossible for him to turn his head, to see his executioner. The storming had gone terribly, oh so terribly, and here he was, waiting for his death.

You are a person. Obviously.

You’re also out on vacation - whether it be from work, or even if you’re unemployed, a break from life as a whole. You’re out in the countryside, a beautiful place, here for however long - as life permits.
Wherever you’re staying, being at a small motel, a friend’s place, or a house you rented out for the week or so you’d be here, one night, a storm casts itself over the countryside. A massive rolling storm that thunders with lightning. It’s gotta be the most lightning you’ve seen in a storm, a wonder that the power didn’t go out.

By morning, the storm is gone. All that is left is the humidity after the rain, the puddles, and the birds that have come to collect the worms that headed to the surface.
But the storm left one more peculiar thing. A man of armour, of old and ancient armour - though the man himself is not that old. A man who came from the storm - an unusual one at that; just where did he come from?

Ideas running through my head lately. Wanted a RP where someone gets dropped in another world - so this RP was born.

You, the person joining this RP, plays as the person from our world. You’re out on vacation in the countryside - that’s the only thing I’ll have pre-decided on your character; the rest is up to you.
My character originates from another world. Similar to ours in some ways, but there are some extreme differences. These differences might be explained in RP, it just depends on what comes up!

Although I originally intended this as a lighter RP I soon realized that my character comes from a world that isn’t very lighthearted. So while this RP could have light moments, there may be dark secrets - that your character may have, and mine definitely will; what secrets your character holds is up to you!
There may be a minor language barrier in this RP, between my character and yours. There is a legitimate reason on why my character does understand and speak quite a few English words, though!

Rules for this RP

• in the event of a fight, remember your weaknesses and play to your strengths. No autohitting, but don’t dodge everything either.
• Good grammar appreciated, but we all make mistakes. I certainly do.
• Mature RPers preferred.
• My only rule on response length is that something must be given for the other person to work with; goes for you, it goes for me.
• Cursing, violence and blood is allowed; know that there is a time and place for everything.
• I will ask for a writing sample before you join. Have one at ready with dialogue.
• Response times could vary; know that I’m not ignoring you on purpose. I could have low motivation, be busy, or very well may have forgotten (while intending to reply earlier). Being active is not a must in this RP!
• Ask questions as needed.

Template (remember to ask before joining, and remove brackets when filling this out)

Name:
Age: (20-24)
Gender:
Pronouns:
Nationality:
Employment: (if any; you do not need to have a job!)
Personality:

Appearance:
Clothing:
Skills:
Background: (write as little or as much as you want)
Conditions: (is not a must. any physical or mental ailments go here)
Other: (anything else is here. fun facts or not so fun facts, etc, anything you want to add that doesn’t fit into the categories.)

Name: Serafina Aurora Caballero Ferro
Age: 23
Gender: Cis female
Pronouns: She/Her
Nationality: Spanish
Employment: Archivist/Historian
Personality: Serfina is a warm, compassionate person who is emotionally sensitive, but she is not afraid to take off her shoe and go after a giant spider climbing up the wall. Well, she is not afraid to stand up to people and their nonsense. Of course this does not mean she doesn't have her own anxieties and such. Given that Sera will only stop until she feels like she has successfully completed a task, her persistence is as beneficial as it is damaging to her own self. She is curious, analytical, and will be over the moon if you give her a book on anything history related. All in all, Serafina is doing her best to be a good person to others and herself.

Appearance: Sera has warm beige skin with a few faint birthmarks on her arms and one on the lower left side of her nose. Her height is between 5'6" and 5'7". She has a bottom hourglass body shape while her features are soft. Sera's hair is medium brown with some silver streaks. It goes down to the middle of her back but she likes to put it up in a bun then ties it together with a silk scarf in a thick wrap style. And she has baby blue hooded eyes.
Clothing: She goes between wearing different styles depending on the occasion. Usually Sera wears cottagecore or princess-like dresses; sometimes she just wears a tee shirt with shorts if she's at home. As mentioned before, she loves to style her hair with silk scarves.
Skills: Fluent in Spanish, English, Italian, and Romanian, great communicator, aiming, writing, cooking, first aid, quick learner
Background: Sera was born in Málaga, Spain to a history professor and a journalist; she is the youngest out of three children. Her parents divorced not too long after she was born and she never really met her mom. Her dad met a man from Romania who was also a historian; the two got married and the guy eventually became like a second father/mother figure to Sera.

Nothing really much has happened to her. She went to an international school in Madrid until she graduated high school. Despite having a decent group of friends, Sera always found herself alone. Sometimes she didn't mind it while others times, she wished to be with someone or some of her friends. It was sort of the same in college, but she studied abroad in England for two years and half a semester in Italy; it was amazing to see all of the museums and landmarks.

Sera now works for a university in Madrid as an archivist with the intent of becoming a professor one day. Sometimes she will work with a partnering university in England. She has two nephews and a niece whom she adores so much. Between her work and family, she tends to exhaust herself. Now while being in England, a friend suggested of taking a break by going on vacation in the countryside, and that is where she is now.
Conditions: Mild depression and anxiety, anemia
Other: Sera loves satchels and usually carries a book or two in one.

((Great! I’ll work on a starter soon.))

Name: Siirawyn Joselvin, Sira for short. (Seer-ah-win Joss-L-vin), or (Seer-ah).
Age: 21
Gender: Cis Male
Pronouns: he/him, although not opposed to they/them
Nationality: Kvisan, a person belonging to the kingdom of Ter Kvis. This place would not exist in our world, hence it being a place exclusive to Sira’s.
Employment: Worked on the family farm a bit, though prior to his ‘transportation’, he was a soldier of the Ter Kvis military.
Personality: Siirawyn is a man usually set in his ways. When he’s put his mind to something, only a few things may change his mind - specifically if those things benefit his family. Sira has strong familial values. A few people see Sira as a reserved individual, but Sira will stand his ground if need be. Having not much interaction with others outside of his family, Sira has trouble picking up social cues. References and certain types of humour may bounce off of him.

Appearance: First glance at Siirawyn without all the armour, one sees a person with many traits seemingly conflicting each other. He’s young, but his eyes look older then the rest of him. They betray his seemingly unthreatening figure, coloured a literal silver, with amber inner irises - carrying a watchful look to them. The inner irises glow softly in darkness, a side effect of the Aeth that runs through his veins.
His skin is pale, due to the lack of sun where he grew up. His body is devoid of scars, save for his neck, where a new mark has appeared after the ‘transportation.’ It curls around the middle of his neck, forming a ring. The scar seems recent, but there are no stitches.
Sira is more athletic than the average person - a lifetime of farming made him that way, as well as his short lived career as a soldier.
He has wavy, platinum gold hair, that goes down just to his lower neck - note that his hair has uneven strands. Very mild stubble on his lower face, but he usually doesn’t let it grow past that.
Stands at 5’6”.

Clothing: The clothing Sira casually wore was more or less tunics, trousers or breeches, often not of bright colours. He did not have a huge variety in what he wore, but rarely saw a problem in it as that is what he’s used to.
Upon joining the Ter Kvis army, he gained a new sort of outfit. The Ter Kvis had no standard warrior’s uniform for the average soldier, although it was preferable to wear something protective, instead of just wearing what you joined with. Sira, later in his soldier career, fashioned thick brown furs wrapped around himself like a cloak, but beneath that would be light armour, specifically boiled leather. He adorns some metal shoulder pads, however. Finally, he wears a metal helmet. He does not wear it at all times, primarily reserving it for when in dangerous situations.
Skills: Aeth user - Aeth is a form of ‘magic,’ originating from Sira’s world. However, while he has massive amounts of Aeth, he lacks the means to control it - a fact set in stone, that no amount of training can change. At best, he can provide a small light source for several hours, essentially meaning his Aeth provides him no offensive capabilities, aside from being mildly threatening to some people.
Swordsmanship - while not a master by any means, Sira knows his way around certain swords, as judged by the personal longsword he carries on himself.
wound cleaning and bandaging skills - Not a doctor by any means, but living on the farm and learning from his mother taught him some important skills to ward off minor injuries.
Drawing, to an extent - He acquired a small blank book during his time in the army, and filled it with sketches of scenes that he witnessed. Scenes of battle, his surroundings, etc. some people, too.
Horsemanship - Not only does he understand how to care for one, he also knows how to ride a horse.

Background: Middle sibling of three, Sira was born with three other siblings, although his brother died as a child due to illness, thus it was just Sira and his two brothers growing up. Life was not incredibly easy, but it could be worse - Sira’s parents were quietly thankful that their farm was close enough to the heart of the kingdom, and not the outer edges where bandits could wreak havoc.
Sira played with his siblings when he had the opportunity, but learned important lessons from his parents as well. Most lessons correlated to learning how to work the farm. His parents hoped the siblings would take on the work when they came of age, and continue the cycle. It was the Josel Family Farm, after all.
But as life went on in the farm, thing continued outside as well. For eventually, the Ter Kvis army went on marching by, seeking people from all walks of life to be levied into the fight. Both of his brothers hoped to join, and wanted Sira to come along as well. But Sira was unsure of leaving his current life behind, as well as his parents. His older brother appealed to his value of the farm, saying that they would return to the farm eventually with new glories, and could afford improvements for the farm. So he joined, and the Ter Kvis marched on forwards.
For seven months he trained in this army, fighting in small raids when needed. Eventually came the climax of their march - the siege of the Serloven castle, a siege lasting two weeks, before the storming of the castle commenced. But clearly, it had gone very wrong - for Sira lost sight of his siblings, and found himself at the mercy of the executioner’s blade.

Conditions: Suffers from a large amount of stress, his life did not do him any favours. Moderate asthma. Neither conditions are ones he is aware of.
Other: Light voice, with an accent that pronounces the ‘er’ ending of certain words as ‘ah.’ His older brother has joked that he has a voice of a poet rather than farmer or soldier.

The skies were dark, with rolling clouds. It looked as though it would rain. And Siirawyn didn’t know if he’d live to witness such rains.
“Te il e Nhvil! Tes lvin himn rhiv le ne tese phourvil!” He could not understand their words. And he couldn’t turn to face them, either, with how he had his wrists bound, held in place by the hands of a large Serlo soldier. But he knew they were talking about him. And he did recognize a word - Nhvil, ‘mage.’ How they knew of his Aeth; well, he tried to use it to threaten the soldiers into letting him go, but they called his bluff in him not being able to use it offensively. And in the end, Sira was hardly a mage.

They pushed him upon a rock, and he could briefly catch a glance of the small crowd that had gathered - to watch the execution, he realized, much to his horror. The scenario was sinking in, and Siirawyn knew he had no desire for death just yet; preferably not at all. Yet nothing he could say or do would persuade his killers; the Serloven people wanted blood, and blood they would get - as the executioner’s blade fell, directly onto his neck.

When Siirawyn woke, it was not on the executioner’s stone. It was not on the muddy battlegrounds. It was not even in the castle the army had laid siege to, and failed. It was…grass. Grass, Sira felt, opening his eyes, not quite recalling what had happened. He could feel - this surely could not be a dream, he wondered - sitting up, Sira glanced at himself. Indeed, his armour was still clouded in signs of a struggle; mud and dirt. He needed to clean that soon.
But he looked around, and didn’t even see a familiar sight. No landmarks, and more importantly - not one person nearby. He quickly checked his back - his sword still on hand, and referred to his helmet, which he carried, but didn’t wear, not yet.
Perhaps it was a dream, then? A vision? Sira got to his feet carefully, minding the mild ache in his neck. He briefly touched it, then looked at his own hand - no blood, thankfully. Dismissing it as him laying on the ground, Siirawyn moved across the grassy hill.
It was unusually green, all things considered. And the weather was…nice, Sira could only think, as he shaded his eyes with his hand. Odd for the location that he remembered being in.

Sira stopped as he met new ground that wasn’t grass. He inspected the large, dark road. He’d never seen anything like it, but didn’t think much of it either. Perhaps he should of, as the moment he stepped forwards, some sort of thing rushed past him. The sight deeply frightened Sira as he flung backwards to the best of his abilities. He glanced at the thing as it retreated down the black road, its form, and noise unfamiliar to him. The roar - that grew quieter as it moved away.
Siirawyn wondered just what manner of strange thing that was. He’d definitely report it to the commander, once he got back. Once he found his way back. And he would. He’d be sure of it.
Looking both ways this time, Siirawyn practically ran across the black road, and without looking back, continued forwards, albeit slowing down his pace the further he got away. He slid on his helmet - now uncertain of the area, figuring it best for him to have some form of head protection. The strange metal thing that prowled that road - he had no clue if it would leave to pursue him; as such, it was not in his interest to stick around.
Instead, Siirawyn proceeded forwards, hoping to come across some landmark, friendly locals he could ask for directions, or even a map - anything to get him back to the site of the battle.

"Oh Señor, ayúdame…." The words staggered off her tongue. Vacations are weird to her. For the last hour, she has had the itch to get her laptop and find some work to do, but every time she has stopped herself from doing anything. If she did do work, then what would be the point of going on vacation in a nice house in the countryside? It would be completely pointless.

Serafina was in the living room, resting on the floor with her feet up against the wall. A strange thing for a woman her age to be doing, and yet, her brain was completely fuzzy. She is restless, but there is nothing to really help her. Even in this current time where she is supposed to relax, how can she? There is no one else except for her; that fact alone is maddening.

Do something. Letting her legs turn, she felt her right leg touch the fake wooden floor. With all the might that she can muster up, Sera stood up thanks to putting her hand against the wall. In a staggered pattern, she made her way over to the television and stereo set. Her phone rested next to the remote that controlled the stereo.

With a press of her finger, she unlocked her phone then pressed play on whatever playlist she saw first. The entire space was filled with the classical music that played from the stereo. Sera jumped around for a couple seconds then twirled around the living room then the kitchen and all over until the dizziness had returned.

Slamming her fist on the wall for extra support, she eyed the laptop sitting in the kitchen island. A long sigh drew out from her as she walked back to the living room. Soon after, Sera collapsed onto the sofa. She laid on her back staring up at the ceiling as the music carried into her ears.

((Made a very minor edit to my character’s sheet, in the appearance section. I forgot to give him a height!))

Wandering the landscape brought more questions than answers. He’d yet to come across a single person. Or anything recognizable for that matter. Sira had thought by now that surely he’d come across something familiar, but he didn’t. Nothing was familiar. His thoughts wandered back to the possibility of this all just being a dream. Was it? No, he shook his head as he walked. He remembered that strange contraption that patrolled the black road. He felt the fear that was genuine. Still remembering how his heart thud in his chest.
Finally, the lands gave him something to work with when he looked up and spotted a building of some type. It was unfamiliar to him, but a building it was - and certainly, there had to be people nearby. Even if there wasn’t, he bet he could find something inside to familiarize himself with the location.
At worst, he could use it to plan his next move.

But as Siirawyn neared the structure, he began to hear a noise. It wasn’t the roar of the contraption - it seemed to come from the structure itself. It was quiet enough, implying to him that it must come from within the building. But it was…unusual. It didn’t sound like people talking. He wasn’t familiar with the sounds at all. Which caused him to falter in his approach, and take a moment to observe.
The structure didn’t seem very military-like. It had no visible defensive, and upon further inspection, the design of the place was odd. He couldn’t put a finger why it felt that way. But it was just unfamiliar, in the best way he could put it.
This was maybe the first structure he’d spotted in his entire time here. Sira began to walk again, resuming his approach. It was this or back to wandering, and Sira preferred to investigate a possible lead.
He approached the building, slowing down once he was directly in front of it. He could see windows - and Siirawyn sidestepped, maneuvering around almost the entirety of the building, before stopping beneath one of the windows.
His head tilted and he jumped up, hooking his hands into a holdable portion of the wall. But when he looked into the window, he saw a sight so unexpected, he immediately fell back onto the ground with a yelp. Well, it may have not been that unexpected - perhaps it was more that he didn’t have a good grip on the wall.
He lay there for a few moments, thinking on what he saw - unable to get a very good look, he knew he saw the insides of the building, and it appeared to be a leisurely room. But he didn’t see any people. And that sound, it had grown ever louder.

Sira stood up again, warily looking at the window. Surely there was some sort of entrance into this building?

A wave of sleepiness washed over her. She turned onto her left side, looking over at the stereo. Vivaldi's "Four Seasons: Spring" began to play. Each movement was a separate song and Sera could not resist having them all on a playlist. She has many to match certain moods to to hold a certain genre. Whatever one is playing now is leaving her to wish that she has somebody to dance with.

The scarf wrapped around her head felt strange. Slowly, but surely, she sat up before eventually getting up. Untying the knot, the scarf slid into her hand. All her hair fell down. A shiver ran down her spine. Sera held the ruby scarf in her hands before tying it around her left wrist like a bracelet.

Twirling back over to the stereo set, she unlocked her phone. It was a quarter past eight. Her mind was full of thoughts on what to do next and whether or not she should eat, but the thought that she was not alone became present.

Can someone ever really tell that someone's there without knowing? Maybe it's the loneliness in motion. Maybe her restlessness is making her feel strange. Goosebumps covered her arms. Well, there's only one way to find out.

Sera doesn't have much to protect herself with, but she grabbed a kitchen knife then examined every single room and space there was. No one was the front end or upstairs. She even checked the cellar too. Nobody. Well, maybe.

A small gap between her lips formed as she sighed. Dropping the knife into the holder, Sera waltzed over and picked her phone up. Turning over her right shoulder, she noticed something in the entrance to the backyard. She should've kept the knife on her.

Out of nowhere, she held up her hand and waved at the figure across from her. Sera could call the police, but she might be seeing things. If it is a person, she could fight if needed. Only if needed. Hopefully not.

Siirawyn continued to look for a door. Perhaps he had spotted one, but was understandably a bit dazed, having woken up from a mysterious sleep not too long ago.
The sound that Sira could hear was still there. Oddly, it sounded pleasant. He wondered if whoever made those sounds was just as pleasant, or if it was just a trick. A trick. It could be a trick, Sira suddenly realized, but he wasn’t giving up on this potential lead either. He could defend himself if worst came to worst. Unless, of course, he was outnumbered. In that case…well, Sira would rather not think about such implications.

Sira stopped for a moment to catch himself, and look around. It was at that moment he spotted movement, that was not the birds, or the wind blowing something through the air. It was from within that structure.
He couldn’t see them very well, but now knew the structure wasn’t empty. Clearly. Something had to be making that sound, after all. They appeared to gesture, which caused Sira to turn and directly look at the figure.
It was hard at his distance to see what he was looking at - even harder with a helmet on. Slowly, Sira began to move towards the figure, his posture extremely cautious.

Her eyes widened. The figure, no person, was moving closer to the door. Sera's fingers curled midway into a palm. She stopped waving. The music was fighting with her heart beating in her ears. Taking a step forward, her eyes squinted at the person. Given the time of day, she could not really see that well, but it did not matter. Whoever the hell it is has some kind of helmet covering their face.

Helmet? Why? If this person is here to kill her, then they really don't need it. Who even uses medieval helmets outside of costume parties, fairs, and historical reenactments? No no no, they can't kill her. She can fight pretty good with her fists. She can fight with a knife or whatever she can get her hands on.

But should she though? She wasn't sure. The person's walking is slow; they're showing hesitation, caution even. Perhaps they are in a daze or lost. Not really sure how anyone can wind up in a situation like that in the middle of the countryside in England, but anything can happen if one let's it.

"Joder esto" She whispered to herself. "Joder esto…" A thousand words in English swirled around her head, preparing her for everything. Sera walked over to the door. The music was still going but she didn't care. After opening the door, she asked the person, "Can you take your helmet off? I'm trying to figure out if you're here to kill me or not. Are you?"

Sira stopped in his tracks, watching as the other person began to move towards - the door, he realized, the entrance he had been looking for. But the door opened, the person stepped out - and asked him a question.
A question. That Sira could understand, although their accent — it did not sound like one he had heard before. At least, it was not a typical sort of voice that he would have expected from this region.

He listened to the words, carefully choosing his response. He did not see a weapon on the person, but there could be more within that structure. More unseen. He had a sword - and his fingers brushed against his scabbard, reminding him of such. But a lone swordsman like himself could not take on too many soldiers. And what if there were Aeth users? He thought it unlikely, considering the Serloven and their dislike of the otherworldly.
Slightly muffled from the helmet, Siirawyn had to raise his voice to respond. “That depends. Are you a friend of the Ter Kvis, or against them?” Unless he was sure of safety, he preferred to keep his helmet on.

(I'm sorry for the late response, I was caught up with school and activities)

This could go so many ways, she knew that very well. She wants to show that she means no harm, but she wants to be ready in case this other person does decide to attack her. If only she could see this person's face since it might help her in assessing this situation a little bit better; maybe not entirely, but she's welcoming of a little more chance in this. Anything to calm her nerves before she passes out.

Sera watched as the person's hand went onto their sword's scabbard. Her pupils enlarged. Joder…Joder…Joder..Joder… Like clockwork, she held her hands up in the air. Hopefully this is some sort of sign the unknown can pick up on. Hope, that's all she has right now.

She squinted although it didn't help with the muffles. "I don't know what that is. I mean no harm, no urge to fight, no danger," She assured. "I don't know what the Ter Kvis is so I have no stance on the subject. I swear on my fathers that I have no idea, no opinion. Please, trust me."

((That’s fine!))

How would she not know… While his expression was invisible, there was some sort of visible stiffness in his posture that wasn’t there before. The answer Siirawyn had received was unexpected. Even those who could not read were bound to understand the names of different kingdoms, unless you were born outside of one, and somehow managed to avoid interaction with anything correlating to the kingdoms.
But that wasn’t possible. Was it?
Looking at her hands, Sira recognized the sign. But others had done that too, and they hadn’t surrendered..

Still, she seemed genuine. Siirawyn wouldn’t get anywhere being extremely difficult. He wasn’t that good at lie detecting - so the only thing he could do was trust her. By Korthe. I hope I won’t immediately be shot upon taking this off.
Cautiously, Siirawyn lifted his fingers from his scabbard, and moved towards his helmet. To take it off was generally a sign of trust, at the very least, it meant ‘I’m not here to harm you.’ He lifted the helmet from his head, immediately feeling refreshed by the air. He ran a hand through the back of his hair, bringing his helmet back to his side.
“I don’t understand how you do not know of the Ter Kvis,” his voice was clearer now, “But you seem to be telling the truth. Now, might you tell me where I am?”

Would it be possible that the person is intoxicated in some sort of way? There has to be some sort of reason that God has led her to be in this place where some rando shows up dressed as a knight with, what she assumes, to be a real sword. There just has to be some sort of reason. This is all worse than the slight dizziness that is making her brain feel like some sort of puddy or goo.

So far, she is not dead. The bar may be way low, and yet, so far so good. Her arms slowly went down. They hesitated, but she eventually let them down at her sides. Out of instinct, she was about to shove her hands in her pockets, but then realized that may make things worse. As far as she's aware, there's nothing in the pockets of her shorts to hold anything aside from a Swiss army knife, but she doesn't even have one.

"Huh?" Her eyes watched carefully as the person took off the helmet. It wasn't them taking it off that was leaving her in worry. It was the fact that he, she maybe assumes, could still kill her. At least he took it off, that means they're on the same page now. "If it's some mythical order from a game or story, I do not know. This is the first time I have heard about the Ter Kvis."

"Well…." She looked around despite it not really helping with location. Really she only did it so her mind can translate her thoughts from Spanish to English. Glancing back at the person, she did her best to offer a smile. "You are about fifteen minutes away from Dorchester, a lovely town in the countryside of England."

He stared at her, his expression uncertain. Siirawyn attempted to keep his true thoughts from displaying themselves on his face - that act was easier to handle with the helmet on, but wearing it simply wasn’t efficient in a non-combative zone. There was a slight tilt to his lips, though - a downwards one, not a smile.
“The Ter Kvis are a kingdom,” he explained. “I am a soldier of their army.” It was the best explanation he could muster on the spot. For a more elaborate one, he would have to actually feel secure, with time to think - instead of awkwardly standing a few feet away from the woman.
Without the helmet on, he was able to note his surroundings more, including the features of the woman - he felt mild confusion at her clothing, which seemed…well made, for person sitting in a random house in the middle of somewhere.
And that somewhere was England - which he learned from her answer soon after. Although none of the terms she gave him made much sense. “I’ve got no clue what England or…Dorchestah are, ma’am.” His accent and formality slipped into his voice a bit. He didn’t sound annoyed, just confused. “Is that some sort of tribe?”

The music kept on going, still classical music. Now the stereo was blaring Dvorak's Symphony Number 9. She held her hand up to her ear while the other stayed on the side of the door. For a moment, her mind was distracted by this, but it soon returned to the knight (she has no idea what to call this person) in front of her.

"Right….." This was all Sera could say really. She wasn't sure whether or not to believe this guy. It's not like he came from an alternative timeline or something like in those shows and books people love these days. Nevertheless, she wanted to sound interested as to not offend this guy. "That must be a noble position for you. Can't really say the same for me, I guess."

She shook her head right away. "No, England is a country…Well it is a part of an empire really; a not a great one as they used to be. It's not like the Ter Kvis, I can assure you that. There's a queen, but….Sorry, I don't want to confuse you too much, but I'll do my best to answer any questions you have and help you on your way. Just please do the same for me, and don't ever use that sword." Sometimes having a degree in history makes simple answer questions turn into a whole dissertation for her. She doesn't know where this guy comes from or why he is here now, so she must be careful, keeping her findings in mind always.

“It’s..okay.” Siirawyn said neutrally, in response to her saying that it must be a noble position. His eyes briefly drifted to the ground before looking back up at her again. He listened.
This England - it seemed similar to a kingdom, yet he had just been told it wasn’t. All of it was unfamiliar to him, and he knew quite a bit about the Ter Kvis and the Serloven - both things he sort of had to know a bit about, for different reasons. So, he could rule out ‘England’ having any relations to the Serloven. Which didn’t add up. Because last time he checked, he was in Serloven territory. He should still be there.
“Thank you for the explanation.” He finally said, after a few moments of thought. “I’ve never heard of this place. As for the sword, if I come under attack, I cannot promise you I will not use it. Do not worry though, Ter Kvis do not attack unarmed Frilye,” he explained, adding in a seemingly unfamiliar word at the end.

He stayed silent a moment more, then asked a question. “Would you happen to have a map?” Having recalled one of his objectives, he knew a map would be something he could use. That would greatly help him.

Sera was not sure what to do. She could went on explaining what England is in depth, but she would go far beyond something simple. If she could say, she would've said it's like her home, Spain, but that's a whole conversation in itself. She wondered of where this person came from. Where are they from in England? Why do they even wear medieval helmets and armor? She wondered.

"Oh? You're welcome…." How kind of him. She didn't really expect her explanation to be helpful; at least the guy found it to be helpful. "Frilye?" With the context, she attempted to find the meaning of the word. Woman? Citizen?

Her eyes squinted. She muttered the word "map" over and over until she pulled her phone out. After unlocking it, she found the app then pulled out the map of where they were now. Sera walked over to the knight's side then pointed at the blue dot. "See, this dot represents where we are now. I can zoom out if you want to see more or scroll around if you want."

((If you don’t want to continue this, that’s totally fine! I know it’s been a while, but I reached the end of my school year (I was rather busy) and then a lot of things ended up happening near the end of the June where I just needed to take some time.))

Siirawyn waited patiently, but a good eye could see how his eyes still carried a sense of alertness to them. He rarely held his gaze on one spot, just looking around - without turning his head around. If this was an ambush…he wouldn’t let them know he knew it was.
When she approached, Siirawyn tilted his head up, and spotted a strange..tablet?..in her hands. He saw light on its surface, and quickly realized it displayed some sort of picture. He was unable to keep the curiosity (and mild confusion) from his posture as he leaned forwards, looking intently at the device. “What is that?” He murmured, still keeping his focus on it.

(No, I'd love to continue this! It's all good. Things are crazy for me cause of college and all that fun stuff so I get it. I'm glad you're back!)

Believe Sera if she ever tells anyone the fact that she is doing everything in her power to stop her arm from shaking. Yes, it is a good thing to see this man's face, but she is still a bit scared and anxious as to what may happen next. A bit may be an exaggeration. Whatever the degree of her worrying is, she still does not want to drop her phone in front of this stranger.

"¿Qué?" She pulled her phone back a little, giving it a quick glance. For a while, she did not say anything. Mainly because she was trying to figure out if he was asking about the map or her phone. Also her brain was trying to translate between languages. Still, her mind feels like a computer from the 90s with the dial sound destroying eardrums in the background.

"It's a phone?" Sera answered, still unsure about everything. "You can use it for messages, calls, and even pulling up maps which is what I'm doing right now. If that's what you're asking about…."

((Happy to hear about you wanting to continue this! Wish you luck on college though!))

“A…phone?” Siirawyn lifted his hand, tilting a finger upwards as though he meant to touch it. Yet he didn’t.
The confusion was genuine. In both his voice and expression; he was still looking closely at the ‘phone.’ Siirawyn had never seen or heard of such a thing. And it held..a map? In that tiny thing?
“In that tiny thing?” He repeated, out loud this time. “A map?” And there was no aggression in his tone, either.
His mind wondered to the other things she said. Messages - they had birds and messengers for that, didn’t they? In the midst of his confusion, he absentmindedly began to lightly scratch at his neck.