[Open post] ..life's a hall of mirrors..

[lanselos_du_lac]

It's been an exhausting few days. While the zombie siege was dangerous, Lancelot is proud of how they handled things, together -- even though not everyone is friends. He was also, he must admit, grateful for the diversion. There is too much on his mind, after the truth-telling spell, and most of it sits like a stone in him... making his sleep even worse, weighing on his heart.

Still, all of that is strangely intermixed with hope. He has a few new friendships that feel like how he remembers friendship feeling -- pleasure in each other's company, time well spent, connection. There's a little piece of him that feels as if he gave that up with youth. (He was always glad to be in Arthur's company, or Guinevere's, he misses them in a way that's sometimes physically painful now that they're away from him. But all of that feels shored up by duty, devotion, love -- nothing simple.) He is glad he could speak plainly with Galahad, glad for all of these new possibilities. Glad of Susan, Laertes, Grantaire -- even Sagramore, whom only months ago he would have given little notice.

So he's reverted to keeping to himself, a little, while he thinks things through. He keeps his schedule: sleep (or not sleeping), drills in the morning, finding something to eat after that, wandering the mansion or the grounds. He's not as adrift as he was, and he is sober most of the time now, but it's an adjustment.

This afternoon he's determined that it's been too long since he took proper care of his sword. He's found a bench and has set himself up there to clean, hone, and oil the blade.

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I just could not understand it," quietly, a kind of agreement. "I think I am easier, now, than I was... will be, when Galahad knew me. Sagramore said that I am angry, always, and I suppose I can understand. If it happens again, if things go on at court as they have been. I have sinned much, I know this, but--"

[timebethine]

Laertes lets him finish, hoping that in that but is some ember he can waken to flame.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He is gazing out at the lake as well, now. "To think that things only get worse... I would rather be here, I think, than that."

[timebethine]

Laertes shifts a little closer on the bench--not touching, but close enough that if Lancelot wanted to reach out, he could. "Then it's well that thou art here."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Do you-- have I--" He lets out a breath. "You should speak with Galahad."

[timebethine]

"I will. But I'll stay my judgment until then." He turns, one knee hooked up onto the seat of the bench, one elbow over the back of it. "Thou art hurting. Can I aid thee?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He shakes his head. "I'd rather have you reassured."

[timebethine]

"Know this--I came to thee in a rage only because of the great love and respect that I bear for Galahad. And the guilt I still carry for the harm I did him," Laertes admits. "If thou hast truly made amends, it would gladden my heart."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I believe that we have, but he's the only one who can say for certain."

[timebethine]

"Then I'll go, and hope that next time we meet, both our hearts will be easier for it." Laertes rises from the bench and sets off--back toward the mansion, and not into the woods. He finds he's lost his taste for adventure.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot sighs, watching him go, and then turns back to his task.