[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@Octo]

[color=goldenrod]"Oh, hey, she does a little Csárdás. That's cute."[/color] an idle observation floated in from behind, in the undertone of the others who stepped forward and said their piece. Fundamentally, the Moonlit Queen's implicit demand for intrigue crashed against the iron wall of Gerard's own self-concept and summation of his time beneath Reon's Light— his prized humble origins working as a grand detriment against him, in a way he had forgotten they could. [color=goldenrod]"I didn't know you could breathe animus into little dolls this way, too. I'd figured it was just blasting things with shooting stars."[/color]

His words were cloaked in no facetious slime, nor anything that could be believed artifice— he had even now only a piecemeal knowledge of how magic worked and what one could do with it, beyond "grand and terrifying marvels"— but one of the pieces of truth he had managed to glean, in some respect, was that most practitioners [i]did[/i] have their special niches they tended to stick to. Having seen the breadth between this tiny little wonder and the overt destruction the false maid could wreak in battle, the former mercenary, current knight, and eternal oaf found himself locking the memory away, for the next time he thought he had her or anyone here completely figured out.

He closed his eyes, and exhaled through the nose. Even if he had little to offer, they couldn't risk a potential insult that came in holding silence. And what was more... there [i]was[/i] a way to phrase what he could speak to that just might have piqued the interest of someone with the Moonlit Queen's personality, as he had heard it spoken and seen in action.

When a lull allowing it appeared, the scarred knight spoke evenly, some warmth upon him.
 
[color=goldenrod]"As my friend said just a moment ago, I too hold a lifetime on the battlefield as the main locus of my skillset. It was once my trade, and is still my craft. Before that I was a peasant boy from the fields to the west, and you surely have seen scores of men like me in that regard. If I were to put this to words..."[/color]

What she coveted, regardless of the tacit relationship between the object and true value, were things that signified the grandeur of her station and title. The moonlit queen was most covetous of symbols— that which projected her image of strength, wonder, and dominion. He had a guess that it was why she had taken the Duke's rationality only after he had, if he was hearing this right, brushed off her summons. He'd cited his duties as being of more import, in so many words. To offer collateral against that demanded attention, then maybe... the part of him he refused to let go, so mundane in the world of man, might hit the mark of what the Moonlit Queen sought.

[color=goldenrod]"I would say I am set apart most from everyone here in how I behold them. I am a humble man, of humble means, hailing from a humble home. I have been blessed to bear witness to wondrous things each day, and am routinely amazed by what company I keep. At times I can hardly believe myself as standing among them in my own right, rather than watching from below a high pedestal."[/color]

A little florid, especially for somebody like him, but a sentiment that still rang true enough. If the Moonlit Queen wanted her greatness to not go unacknowledged, then the best idea Gerard could muster was to invoke a core part of the man he'd become, the one his friends within the Order had rightly tried to see him pare back—

[color=goldenrod]"I know quality when I see it. And I think the world of these people. I apologize it is so meager in the face of them, but I could at least offer you captive audience for your words and deeds. That which Duke Thedric couldn't manage."[/color]

He was effusive with complimenting those around him, and stingy with complimenting himself.

For a fae that had been slighted by being considered second fiddle to anything, there was a chance this could resonate.