"Unfortunately, beyond that, I don't know what to say, you were already in someone's wagon when I found you." Livia said with a slight frown, causing Ragnar to stare down blankly at the crack beneath the closed hospital door, contemplating her response quietly as the shadow of someone's feet approached the door from outside.
At that moment the door chimed again, and Ragnar was surprised to see an older man walk into the room who appeared to be dressed in more recognizable attire. Ragnar scanned him over with his eyes, still laying back somewhat sprawled out on the hospital bed while gazing up at Livia and the centurion as he introduced himself, bringing his fist up to his chest just as Ragnar had seen Livia do. He gathered that it must have been some way these foreign people used as a sort of salute. Ragnar fiddled with the switches and buttons on the arm rest attached to his bed. After a moment of tinkering with the controls, he discovered that he could cause the bed to recline back and forth. He would begin to play with the tiny joystick, listening to the legata and her centurion as he then, looking rather silly, started to move the bed up and down, making it exaggerate all the way back so that his back was arched humorously and he could glance at the wall behind him, before pushing the joystick forward again and sitting upright as he heard the centurion mention a familiar name.
The Legata and the Centurion had begun talking in Argosian, and although some of their words were hard for him to understand, given the difference in Latinization between their formal dialect and the more stylized one that he had learned from the English priest, Ragnar still managed to understand the gist of their conversation. He understood certain key words like Legata, Iskjerne, Hrollaug, and gracias centurio. In just a few short sentences, Ragnar Lothbrok had gained a great deal of knowledge already, and his brows would sink as the slightly angry, slightly concerned thought of Hrollaug the Walker crossed his mind at that moment.
As Livia spoke with the centurion for a moment, Ragnar regained his thoughts and glanced over to the TV screen, poking at the moving image with his finger tip before looking at the portrait on the wall again, studying the old Asiatic man's hakama trousers, the emblem on his kamishimo winged jacket and the shape of his katana sword. Ragnar looked amused, and was not very impressed at all with the small size, short length and thinness of the slightly curved pommelless single-bladed sword, or the saya that it was in. To the Viking leader, it looked more like a knife than a sword. What peculiar people, he thought silently.
"It will probably be a week or so before you are healed." Livia said after rubbing her chin for a second and looking back down at him. "I have an apartment here, we can stay there until you are strong enough to return to your people." She added, causing him to gaze back up at her.
"Apart...ment?" He repeated back to her, a little confused as to what she meant as he sat back up on his recliner to look at her. But anywhere would be better than the hospital, he figured, before giving a half-nod. "If that's alright with you, unfortunately these people will not allow you to roam freely, and have placed me under responsib--" Ragnar suddenly interrupted her, changing the subject as he motioned one of his bandaged hands towards the portrait on the wall beside him.
"Who is he?" the Viking leader asked as another nurse entered the room, placing a dessert tray down on the bed table in front of him. Ragnar would look down at the mixed fruit entree and smile, nodding humbly to the nurse, appearing more pleased with the items this time. He quickly picked up one of the cherries by the thin stem, swiped it through the dab of whipped cream and sniffed it before popping it into his mouth. Like a savage, he began filling his cheek with the delicious fruit slices, looking up at Livia with a grin. Ragnar didn't seem to be too worried about anything else at all at that moment, and he certainly didn't appear to be the dangerous, menacing figure that many people had thought he would be. Despite his silliness and strange mannerisms, for a man who had nearly perished from his injuries a couple weeks ago, Ragnar actually looked surprisingly comfortable, and perhaps even a little too calm. It was obvious that he had no fear at all, despite the fact that he was still experiencing a minor pain in his side and had his ankles strapped to the bed. Was this really the man that other Vikings feared and told stories about? It was hard to believe.
At that moment the door chimed again, and Ragnar was surprised to see an older man walk into the room who appeared to be dressed in more recognizable attire. Ragnar scanned him over with his eyes, still laying back somewhat sprawled out on the hospital bed while gazing up at Livia and the centurion as he introduced himself, bringing his fist up to his chest just as Ragnar had seen Livia do. He gathered that it must have been some way these foreign people used as a sort of salute. Ragnar fiddled with the switches and buttons on the arm rest attached to his bed. After a moment of tinkering with the controls, he discovered that he could cause the bed to recline back and forth. He would begin to play with the tiny joystick, listening to the legata and her centurion as he then, looking rather silly, started to move the bed up and down, making it exaggerate all the way back so that his back was arched humorously and he could glance at the wall behind him, before pushing the joystick forward again and sitting upright as he heard the centurion mention a familiar name.
The Legata and the Centurion had begun talking in Argosian, and although some of their words were hard for him to understand, given the difference in Latinization between their formal dialect and the more stylized one that he had learned from the English priest, Ragnar still managed to understand the gist of their conversation. He understood certain key words like Legata, Iskjerne, Hrollaug, and gracias centurio. In just a few short sentences, Ragnar Lothbrok had gained a great deal of knowledge already, and his brows would sink as the slightly angry, slightly concerned thought of Hrollaug the Walker crossed his mind at that moment.
As Livia spoke with the centurion for a moment, Ragnar regained his thoughts and glanced over to the TV screen, poking at the moving image with his finger tip before looking at the portrait on the wall again, studying the old Asiatic man's hakama trousers, the emblem on his kamishimo winged jacket and the shape of his katana sword. Ragnar looked amused, and was not very impressed at all with the small size, short length and thinness of the slightly curved pommelless single-bladed sword, or the saya that it was in. To the Viking leader, it looked more like a knife than a sword. What peculiar people, he thought silently.
"It will probably be a week or so before you are healed." Livia said after rubbing her chin for a second and looking back down at him. "I have an apartment here, we can stay there until you are strong enough to return to your people." She added, causing him to gaze back up at her.
"Apart...ment?" He repeated back to her, a little confused as to what she meant as he sat back up on his recliner to look at her. But anywhere would be better than the hospital, he figured, before giving a half-nod. "If that's alright with you, unfortunately these people will not allow you to roam freely, and have placed me under responsib--" Ragnar suddenly interrupted her, changing the subject as he motioned one of his bandaged hands towards the portrait on the wall beside him.
"Who is he?" the Viking leader asked as another nurse entered the room, placing a dessert tray down on the bed table in front of him. Ragnar would look down at the mixed fruit entree and smile, nodding humbly to the nurse, appearing more pleased with the items this time. He quickly picked up one of the cherries by the thin stem, swiped it through the dab of whipped cream and sniffed it before popping it into his mouth. Like a savage, he began filling his cheek with the delicious fruit slices, looking up at Livia with a grin. Ragnar didn't seem to be too worried about anything else at all at that moment, and he certainly didn't appear to be the dangerous, menacing figure that many people had thought he would be. Despite his silliness and strange mannerisms, for a man who had nearly perished from his injuries a couple weeks ago, Ragnar actually looked surprisingly comfortable, and perhaps even a little too calm. It was obvious that he had no fear at all, despite the fact that he was still experiencing a minor pain in his side and had his ankles strapped to the bed. Was this really the man that other Vikings feared and told stories about? It was hard to believe.