[Semi-Closed Post] Sadmas Aftermath

[lanselos_du_lac]

Rather suddenly, after this latest mansion event or incursion of unexpected visitors, Lancelot will not be seen around and about as has come to be usual for him. He is not drilling in the field in the mornings. He is not in the café seeking pastries or companionship. He is not around the kitchens or libraries or, seemingly, anywhere.

Lancelot keeps to his room. If he bathes or shaves or uses the bathroom, he does so carefully and avoiding anyone he might meet. If Laertes leaves food outside his door, folk will find it still there later in the day. If anyone knocks, he will not call them in. He lets the mansion provision him with bread, cheese, water-- sometimes wine or whiskey -- but he doesn't much want any of it.

He cannot bring himself to speak to anyone. He cannot bring himself to do much of anything at all. The best concession he will make, with the understanding that there are those who will worry, is that he does not lock or bolt the door.

[Typist note: Anyone who might be really worried about Lancelot's sudden disappearance or withdrawal is welcome! Post is "semi-closed" really only because a character would have to deliberately decide to enter, and no one will stumble across Lancelot by accident.]

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs a little, "I was not certain I was any good at all."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You're much better than many of the boys at the dance halls," Susan says, switching without warning into a leading hold. "But not quite as talented as the King of Archenland. - The country bordering Narnia to the south."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He takes only a few steps to accommodate her switch. "Lady, 'tis not talent but practice that breeds mastery."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"And yet you've practiced less than the boys at the dance hall," Susan says. The look she gives him is playfully suspicious, and broken up when she glances quickly at their feet - the few times she has led in the past, it's been with someone closer to her in height. "You're quite physically gifted, aren't you? It seems to me this kind of thing comes easily to you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, I suppose that's so. At most things physical, I am a quick study. All the rest? Shameful."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh? Even if you choose to interpret the other things as physical in nature?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Another little laugh, this one rueful, "I am not very good at understanding people I don't know well. I generally find it easier to keep to myself. Even with those I know well, I often think I make things difficult."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Rather than dismissing this out of hand, Susan gives it due consideration, pulling him a little closer than a waltz strictly requires. "Difficult in what way?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He squeezes her hand, where theirs are clasped, and says, "Oh-- I ask a lot of questions. I want to know things for certain, and most things can't be known for certain. And-- sometimes I feel I over-burden people."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

This all sounds remarkably reasonable to Susan, who hates to be a burden and loves to understand things. She leads him quietly through the next few steps, then says, "I can't imagine you over-burdening anyone."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I pray it remains so," with a warm, wry humor. His hand at her waist squeezes gently; he keeps his gaze on her.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I used to be much better at understanding people," she offers then, switching back to following. "But I fear I lost much of that particular skill after the accident, along with easy conversation and clearly definable emotions." Saying this to anyone else, she thinks, would feel like too much. But not to Lancelot.

[lanselos_du_lac]

This time he takes the switch a little more easily, attentive to how she is moving. "I can understand how that might be," he says, sincerely. "However, I find that thy conversations with me are easy enough, and thy understanding of me is better than most. We understand one another well."

He does not address defining emotions, having already spent a good deal of time lately wrestling with that, himself.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I agree," says Susan. She breaks the frame so she can rest her head against his chest. While he's taller than her, especially when it comes to leading in a waltz, he's not so tall that his chest is at head-height, but it's easy enough for her to soften against him so that she's not bending over to do it. She feels warm all-over, with yet another undefinable emotion. "I find you quite easy."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am glad," kissing her hair. He laughs a little as they keep dancing.

He did not foresee this, exactly, when he admitted to Arthur that he would rather stay here than return to court. But he realizes now that, despite how agonizing that admission was, it was made with the faith that there are truly more possibilities for him than just the one where he stays with two people he loves more than life at the price of (apparently) decades of ongoing pain.

Instead, he can have this -- Susan's smile and the way she feels easy in his arms. The way she is glad to see him. The way she inspires him to do whatever he can to delight her. (And he knows, he does know, that it was this way with Guinever in the beginning. But that felt different, too, less free and rarely light, for obvious reasons.)

Lancelot pulls her closer still. He says quietly, "I thank thee. Thou hast made me feel restored."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Good," says Susan, firmly, and because she's always been the sort of person to worry, and to cajole and instruct when worried, she says, "You oughtn't lock yourself away in your room like that. Trust me, it doesn't help. Find a routine and do things that make you feel good, even if it feels like seeking that good feeling is a betrayal of some sort." Such as Susan herself, seeking out sex!

She lifts her head then, catching his eye with a piercing stare. "You needn't seek me out if you don't wish to," though she should like to be sought out by Lancelot, "but some friend, at least. Otherwise you're just indulging in being morose and maudlin and while that can feel good to indulge in, it gets rather harder to claw your way back out."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot flicks his gaze away briefly, with a momentary thoughtful frown, before he looks back and says, "It's not so much that it felt better to be alone as-- I felt--"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Tell me," says Susan; she remembers to gentle her voice from a more didactic, imperative tone, but only just.

[lanselos_du_lac]

A little sigh, partly because he's not sure how to phrase this. "It felt like having all the wind knocked from me, like taking a bad fall from horseback. Like I couldn't move. I really did not expect to wake alone, and when I did--" He shrugs a little, meeting her gaze again. "I had no desire to keep my routine, but neither could I have managed it even if did."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh." Susan understands now. "The shock hadn't worn off yet."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes, I suppose so," relieved to be understood. "That first day, I think, Laertes came in the evening and we spoke. He was concerned because I hadn't taken breakfast. And thou'rt correct that seeing and speaking to friends has eased things a little, but-- it's as in other things. When shock wears off one has to face the wound itself."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan shifts from the waltz into a Narnian dance she hasn't found a true analogue for in England. It's a faster-paced one, but quick enough to pick up on, and it involves a closer, more intimate hold. It's a dance many of her suitors back then wanted to do with her, because it allowed closeness under the veneer of propriety. It is, Susan finds - in truth, with some amount of delight - entirely salacious when both dance partners are nude. An odd counterpoint to the conversation, perhaps, but Susan thinks that maybe the dancing is facilitating deeper conversation, and she wants to be closer to Lancelot than a waltz strictly allows. She says, "Still. You needn't face the wound alone."

[lanselos_du_lac]

This additional shift throws him momentarily off-kilter. He glances down, both feeling for the pattern with his body and trying to see the steps themselves.

He says, distractedly, "Nay, of course not--"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You've got this," she murmurs, gently positioning his hands so one is on the dip of her hip and the other curved over one of hers. She slips her other hand around his shoulder and presses closer still. "Left foot - two - three... heel, turn. Shuffle right - yes, that's it exactly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs a little -- the delight of figuring it out as she guides him -- and soon enough he has it, or at least he mostly has it.