[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

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"He knew enough that I believe it," Susan says. A strand of her hair came loose when she let her braid down; she tucks it behind her ear. "It's a queer feeling, to be sure. You, and others, are from stories I grew up hearing. To learn that I might have the same dubious honor..." She lifts an eyebrow at Lancelot. "I see now that it's even more strange to reconcile than I had imagined."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He sits back, regarding her with thoughtful concern. "Are you all right? I mean-- are you well enough after...?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I believe it helped me to hear it," Susan says. "Ultimately. These books had information I did not. It wasn't pleasant information, in many ways; in others, it was a reassurance." She takes a moment to busily unwrap a sandwich of her own, and hides whatever expression might be crossing her face with a bite. Once she has swallowed, she tilts her head back, letting the sun rest on her face. "Forgive me for being so circumspect. I haven't decided what to do with that information yet, so I'm holding it close until I do."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"There is no need for you to tell me anything, unless you wish to." He has been looking earnestly at her this whole while, and now he feels a little self-conscious. He sits back and starts in on his own sandwich. There is a little space of companionable silence before he says, "I said I had been trying to untangle things on my own. It seems I'm not terribly good at that."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"No?" Susan asks. She doesn't pry further; she doesn't want to push him, but she does watch him quietly for a moment.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No," with a slightly sheepish, but grateful little smile. "Are you surprised to hear that I have found something I don't excel at?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Sir, I have decided to enter into this friendship having abandoned all preconceived notions I may once have held," Susan tells him. There's a playful light in her eye now. "I am surprised by everything and nothing."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He grins at her, charmed even beyond his urge to share his thoughts with her, and takes another bite of his sandwich. "That's well," he says eventually, "I trust you. You are wise. You likely have insight I don't."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Even though she wants to, Susan doesn't accuse Lancelot of flattery yet again. Instead she sets her sandwich down and steeples her fingers, regarding Lancelot. "I am wise," she agrees, instead. "And happy to offer any insights you may request."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot's smile holds, "You needn't stop eating. I was only going to ramble on. Tediously."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I'll be the judge of that," Susan says, archly, but she picks up her sandwich again and takes an appeasing bite.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He says, glancing away, "Well. Most of this is not new to me, but rather I've thought of things differently. I believe I told you, I fell out with the Queen and after some while I sought to leave court." Lancelot barely gives her time to acknowledge this, because he trusts she recalls. "During the... truth-telling days, I learned much. I said more than I would have liked to. But I keep thinking--"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Yes?" Susan asks. She pours him a cup of tea from the canteen in the basket, and passes it over before pouring a second for herself.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He takes it, sips, and is grateful for it. He takes some while to go on, but when he does, he says, "I keep thinking how unhappy I was. How I told the Queen what had happened, and how we argued. She sent me away-- and after some weeks, perhaps longer, I found a way to be gone."

He looks thoughtful, a little sad. He sips his tea, his sandwich in the other hand. "What if what is here is meant to be new? I left behind something like a ruin. What if I'm to start anew now?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I wonder that, too," Susan says. "There was little for me in London when I arrived here. Oh, I had my friends, and I had my life, and I liked both very much." Miriam, she thinks, suddenly; things had been so unresolved between them for months. She would have liked to at least say good-bye. "But I don't know if I ever would have remembered Narnia if I hadn't come here, and I don't know if I could have begun to start crawling out of the hole of grief I'd been caught inside without remembering." She is still a miserable woman, most days, but it feels more manageable, having been confronted with the knowledge of her own deepest denial. "I think perhaps the key to moving forward is to embrace the memory of what passed, so that you may set it aside on with purpose."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He nods, seeming a little far-away. "Yes, perhaps. And to decide not to stay inside that pain, though I admit that is my tendency."

Lancelot refocuses, looking her over, smiling a little. "You have been a great help to me. I am always so glad to see you."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan shakes her head, but it is not to negate anything he's said - it's more rueful, and self-focused. "I share the same tendency," she says, and meets his gaze head-on. A tiniest of instinctual smiles is tugging at her lips, now, trying very hard indeed to bloom into something bigger. "And the same feeling. I'm very glad to know you, Lancelot."

[lanselos_du_lac]

His own smile broadens, and he flushes a little as he says, "I should like, very much, to be closer with you."

He sounds faintly uncertain, but it's more down to nerves than anything else.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

It must be said that it takes Susan a moment to realize what Lancelot is hinting at. After all, she had propositioned him and gotten politely rejected the night they met. A boon, she has privately thought: she is not ashamed to use men as an anesthetic, or to have a robust sexual life, but if she had bedded Lancelot that night, she may have written him off entirely and not come to understand him as the friend he has come to be.

She has been trying not to notice how handsome he is, since, out of respect for his rejection. But taking in the flush on his cheeks and the tremor in his words, she puts that smaller denial aside and takes him in in full. He really is beautiful, but what's more, he's nice to talk to, and he makes her feel good. Like there's someone else who understands what it means to be lost; like this other lost soul is willing to sit and listen and hear her even so. Like she is still interesting, even though she knows for a fact she hasn't been able to be interesting in nearly six long months.

Her smile does blossom. Not into her easy flirtatious one, but into the small and ugly but fierce, genuine one. "You may," she says.

[lanselos_du_lac]

The reaction that flashes across his face is, initially, something like surprise; then the flush deepens and he glances away for a moment, though he's smiling.

After a breath he looks back at her, feeling overbold, and says, "If I continue in honesty, I'm bound to say that I should like to kiss you."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Then in the interest of honesty, I should say that I would be very disappointed if you did not."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs softly, delighted, and sets aside his cup. He moves a little closer -- he had settled at a very respectful distance, so he has to shift up onto his knees -- and reaches for her hand, leaning in to kiss her sweetly.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan slips her hand more firmly into Lancelot's. She lets him set the pace of the kiss, letting her eyes drift closed as she responds just as sweetly. It's different, but a good sort of different. She likes him; she can experiment with trying not to show off or put him in his place at first blush.

[lanselos_du_lac]

It's sweet, though at first very tentative -- as if he expects she'll change her mind, or perhaps that something worse will happen. (A bolt of lightning? Some other form of smiting?)

But when nothing comes but the pleasure of her nearness, the sensation of her skin, he lets the kiss deepen, drawing it out.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan brings her other hand up to his cheek, resting it there for a moment before moving it to the back of his head. He's looming, a little; she finds she likes it. Still, she presses up into the kiss, lifting on her own knees, responding eagerly, opening to him.