constant-knight

[constant-knight]

The king's apathetic disregard towards him didn't seem to faze the being. The Lord Commander knelt in front of the man, head bowed in gesture of utmost respect -- and so it remained there as he replied:

"Mythos is almost ready for you, my liege."

In contrast to his usual whimsical tone towards anyone else, in the presence of Barnabas, the egi's mask was lowered. There was, after all, no need to hide his true nature around his creator; a fact that spurred a distinct lack of emotion or personality in his voice.

"We move upon Kanver on your command."

@via-infinitx liked for a starter

"And what news do you have for me of my quarry?"

The King didn't even both to glance toward the other as he spoke. Most people barely deserved his acknowledgement, and one such as Sleipnir deserved even less.

[constant-knight]

Oops. Time to grab a new theme.

[constant-knight]

So, headcanon time to go with these screenshots! Since my Sleipnir is nothing more than an egi through and through, I've decided that he, just like emotions and basic human functions, mimics Barnabas's fighting and magic capabilities from when Barnabas isn't Primed.

... Yeah. In short, he's basically just the Mimic Tear from Elden Ring, just without the looking like a shade version of Barnabas part.

Unless you want him to look like a shade version of Barnabas. He can do that, too. (Though he'd really rather not...)

Posting these between draft replies, because I Just Think He's Neat.

[constant-knight]

Sleipnir Harbard;

Lord Commander of the Kingdom of Waloed’s armies, Sleipnir was known to many as the Constant Knight, by reason of his unchangingly icy demeanor, and his unwavering loyalty to his liege.

[constant-knight]

Not me bringing my Sleipnir back like a fool.

[constant-knight]

I know, I know, I finally crawl back from the dead on this blog just to show my crimes. I just think that if my Sleip can change forms, then......

[constant-knight]

Hello yes I am alive on this blog, I swear alskdfj;fl

[constant-knight]

First of all, how fucking dare you.

You offend him. You offend his very existence. How dare you reduce him to a mere pet, an animal to be more precise. Offering him something so cliche just to prove a point to no one but yourself.

Why, Harbard has half a mind to get up and storm out right now, he thinks as he absently snatches one of the sugar cubes from the plate and pops it into his mouth.

You know full well that he cannot properly eat, yet you go on to taunt him anyway! You absolute brute, you heartless knave, you --

-- And there goes another sugar cube, into his mouth.

Barnabas is just going to slide a plate of sugar cubes across the table at Sleipnir. Hey, you know you want one. Right, Not-Horse? Barnabas knows he claims he does not need food, but he has happened to catch him a few times trying to sneak sweets from the kitchens. What a strange creation he was.

@constant-knight

[constant-knight]

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was without a doubt incredibly dangerous -- but as long as his liege's family exercised at least some small modicum of care around him, they would be just fine. They were, after all, important to Barnabas, and Harbard wasn't exactly known to attack unprompted.

Not without an order, if only just one gleaned from Barnabas's unvoiced sentiments.

Sleipnir took position against a portion of the wall next to the child, leaning back against it. The second fork was taken and initially turned about in his hand in seemingly idle contemplation. Then that blue gaze flicked away and back over to Olin as he listened intently to the boy's conversation.

"Of course," he lied about liking apples. Still, he continued to play along without missing a beat by reaching over and taking a small bit of the pie onto his fork. It was brought to his mouth, and for a split second, his brow did furrow. It was sweet, though that descriptor was vague at best; many things were sweet, after all, with their flavors made more complex by other combinations and factors. Harbard silently mulled this over as he appeared to savor the bite of the treat.

That the boy fell silent and offered the baked good a displeased stare did not go unnoticed; it prompted another raised brow from him, and he shifted his posture so that his full weight was leaning back upon the stone wall of the courtyard.

"Why do you despise raisins so, young master?" Again his voice lilted with curiosity and intrigue. "Do they truly offend your senses in such an unforgivable manner?"

@constant-knight | continued from here [x]

Sleipnir was always cold. His gaze reminded the boy of the frozen puddles of water in winter and his very voice was sharp as the icicles hanging from above his chamber's windows in winter sometimes. And yet the Lord Commander counted as one of the boy's closest friends in the castle; regardless of what his mother had said about the man. Olin smiled brightly and climbed on the low wall in the courtyard that separated it from the path that led to the castle's gardens.

He kicked the heels of his boots happily against the wall while pulling two forks from his pocket—without a doubt another act of thievery when he had stolen the apple pie. "Do you like apples," the boy happened to ask the Lord Commander as he offered him the second fork. "They're very sweet. The cook gave me an apple the other day." But they were not as good as the pie or other sweets.

The sweets his father sometimes gave him were the best but surely he did not have to tell Sleipnir for he possibly knew all too well. He dug his fork into the pie and took a bite. For a brief moment, the boy frowned and looked at the pie. "It has raisins..."

[constant-knight]

On the subject of which came first, the chicken or the egg -- or in this case, the horse or the human:

My Sleipnir has always existed as long as Odin has existed. He's a part of Odin -- or rather, is one with the Eikonic entity, with no actual autonomy once they are primed. They share one consciousness, which is Barnabas's, of course.

Sleipnir Harbard, the humanoid entity that interacts separately out in the world when they aren't primed, came into existence later, when Barnabas used Odin's power to create a being that really is just a being made up of that very aether. Unlike his identity as Odin's mount, he does have some degree of free thought and functionality, though his consciousness is still connected to Barnabas's. Their connection allows Harbard to know his master's thoughts and feelings without Barnabas needing to express them, and as such, he is able to speak for and/or enact Barnabas's will seemingly unprompted.

Harbard can change his humanoid form's appearance at will; all it requires is for the aether comprising Sleipnir's tangible body to dissipate and reform with a different form or appearance, if he so chooses it -- although most often his appearance will be derived according to Barnabas's specifications, whether conscious or unconscious on the Dominant's part.

In short, the answer to the question is: yes.

[constant-knight]

“Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Look what I got from the kitchens!” Well, he did not quite get it but stole it from the kitchens when no one was looking—it was fine was it? He showed him a small apple pie. “Would you share it with me?”

Ah. His master's child yet again.

He regarded Olin with a backward glance at first, and though there was no outward change in his steely expression, that in and of itself spoke volumes of his ease around the little boy. Around him, much like around Olin's father, there was no need for pretenses of emotion, for there was no desire to rile them up or manipulate their emotions.

It was the bond of blood shared between father and son, Sleipnir supposed -- in turn binding him, to some unknown extent, to the boy as well.

Finally, he turned fully around to face Olin. The pie, on the other hand, received a perked brow. The Lord Commander considered telling him the truth: that he had no use for such frivolous acts like consuming food. But with a slight slumping of shoulders, Harbard resigned himself to humoring him -- like always.

"Very well," he agreed, tone thick with amusement and arms folding across his chest. "We shall share the spoils of your victory, young master."

[constant-knight]

Headcanon time!

The reason why my Harbard's demeanor is described as being "unchangingly icy" enough to earn him his nickname, is in part because while he can feel Barnabas's emotions, he doesn't actually feel emotions of his own. He himself is incapable of it, or at least incapable of actually identifying/understanding any emotions he may feel of his own.

The "emotions" that he does seem to express are more akin to mimicry, much like most aspects of his corporeal existence.

[constant-knight]

"Sleipnir." Barnabas murmured, the raven haired man resting his head upon the egi's shoulder. He was exhausted, and it was clear in his facial features. Whilst the dark circles beneath his eyes had become a constant companion to the man, they somehow looked worse than usual. The death of Benedikta weighed heavily upon him, as much as Barnabas wished it did not. "I'm so tired." He closed his eyes, craving comfort but lacking the words to express such.

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, the egis shifted an arm around his king.

Even without physically seeing the toll that was taken upon his master, he knew well how the man struggled as of late -- he could feel it in his very soul, an exhaustion beyond words. No, it was more than mere exhaustion; it was an affliction of the heart, a heaviness of emotions that threatened to pull Barnabas under from the sheer weight of them.

While Sleipnir couldn't entirely say that he understood them, he did feel them clear as day, yes.

"Rest, my liege," was the simple, quietly uttered instruction, complete with a soothing lilt to his tone. Though it was improper to speak to the king in such a way, he knew well that Barnabas would not scold him for it, at least not in private like this. Not while he was willingly giving to him the shoulder that Barnabas had taken for himself.

[constant-knight]

Olivier is quick to try and jump on the man's back. "Run like the wind, my noble steed!"

Whose unattended hellspawn is this?!

He's going to arch his back in an attempt to keep the boy from latching on, all while looking both perplexed and vexed as he wriggles about in an attempt to evade capture.

"Have you no manners, you rude little -- ?!"