[Open Post] ..like the bird that you can't see..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot is in a very good mood indeed. He feels settled, assured. He feels as he did, he thinks, back when he first found his feet at court -- he is someplace he belongs, he can be assured that people will treat him with respect, if not kindness or welcoming. He lets himself revel in it, a little, as it's been a long while since he felt anywhere near as nice as this.

The weather is good: sunny, crisp, the familiar feeling of autumn as winter is hovering close by. He goes to his own room and fetches his sword. He runs his usual drills, though with a kind of ease and almost carelessness he hasn't had since he was young. (Perhaps he is young enough, still. He can't be sure. He has already lived past the age his father was when he died, but that means almost nothing. His father died in battle and Lancelot is, now, no longer likely to ever see such a fate.)

Afterwards, he showers and decides he might as well find breakfast. So he's now heading toward one of the kitchens, looking cheerful for once.

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

"A feast? That sounds excellent. I shall ask her."

[sagramore]

"And thou knowest how Laertes likes to cook. What's a dish thou wouldst have? It would be a favor to him," he adds, to forestall any possible argument.

[lanselos_du_lac]

That was a good addition, because Lancelot would have argued. He considers for a moment, then says, "Dost recall a quince and almond pie? Sometimes we would have it at court for a feast."

[sagramore]

"Yes! Kay was a bastard about it," almost fond. "It's not that hard to get quince."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs, "It was one of my favorites."

[sagramore]

"It's settled, then. The cold box here is closer than Turkey. We shouldn't have any trouble. --And ask your lady, if you would."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, I will," looking far happier than Sagramore has likely seen him. "I pray she will join us."

[sagramore]

"I hope so too," he says, as the coffee begins simmering. "It's good to see the joy she's brought thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot flushes, as if he isn't utterly transparent, and says, "It's early. I should not presume."

[sagramore]

"Perhaps not, but I'm not going to stop you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"It is nice," he allows, "to simply enjoy something."

[sagramore]

"Yes," warmly. "I find that to be true."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I suppose I should have known."

[sagramore]

"That I'm generally right? Thou shouldst have indeed."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs again, "Oh, aye, let's say that. Very well, I shall listen from now on."

[sagramore]

"Good, that's what I'd hear thee say."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Of course it is," he turns a little wry, teasing, "to have the ear of one such as myself. A high honor."

[sagramore]

"Thou art the High King's best friend," teasing back.

[lanselos_du_lac]

It does sting, a little, but for once it's bearable.

"Should he be interested in thy advice for wooing ladies, I shall be sure to direct him to thee."

[sagramore]

"As thou shouldst."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles at him. He says, more sincerely, "My thanks to thee." He nods toward the cezve. "Enjoy."

[sagramore]

"My thanks," softer.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot reaches out and pats his shoulder, then heads off.