[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]

"Mayhap he'd be impressed. Thou couldst best me, one never knows."

[sagramore]

"He would not be impressed by the wielding of sharp objects by compromised men. He's sensible." His expression softens. "Though perhaps I'd like him to scold me about it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"As if it would be the first time."

[sagramore]

"That I was scolded by him or that I was involved in a stupid occupation while compromised?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Probably both," grinning a little. "I don't know how often he scolds thee."

[sagramore]

"Both is correct. He scolds me when I deserve it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That is well." The palinka is clearly settling in; he's much less stiff and ill at ease in his body than when Sagramore arrived. Suddenly, he says, with a strange lightness, "I think thou and I considered killing the same man, that other day."

[sagramore]

"Did we? Reynaldo?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, him. I was glad to hear he left Laertes be. I should not have liked to deal with him thus, though I was prepared."

[sagramore]

"He might have thanked thee for it, but in truth he took care of it for himself," quieter. "He is a braver man by far than I deserve."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Some might say, an thou hast him it is clear he is as thou deservest."

[sagramore]

He prods Lancelot again, harder this time. "Ass."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Probably 'tis thee, would say such a thing."

[sagramore]

"Thou art a judgement upon me for my good nature."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thinkst thou so?" He laughs. "Well. Perhaps thou hast earned that, too."

[sagramore]

"Listen to thee. Give me that," leaning over for the bottle.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He hands it over without argument, though he is clearly amused.

[sagramore]

He takes a very long drink, which if he were with someone else would definitely be flirting -- showing off the line of his throat as he swallows, knowing the way his curls are straying loose from the ribbon -- but with Lance is just the sheer carelessness of being around someone who reminds him of Camelot. In truth he can understand why Laertes and Claudius have a bond in Denmark; it doesn't matter if it's a place they're glad to have left, but the two of them have a shared understanding of what it was like to have been formed by it. He and Lancelot both know what Arthur's magnetic power is like at its height -- they know about the casual violence of life in Britain, they know the same men and women, they both left their homes for the burden of knighthood.

When he finishes he hands the bottle back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

[lanselos_du_lac]

The bottle is coming down to empty, but Lancelot does take another drink. (He wouldn't much like to get back into the habit, but it does cushion him, and he has felt so bleak for the last couple of days that the respite is welcome. It's too easy to worry he might be stuck in that, again, interminably.)

"He spoke to me of thee," he says, a little absently.

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs. "Christ, what did he say?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He puts on a thoughtful air. "Wanted to know of thee, now. Said thou'rt a stripling at court, which I suppose thou wast. Said, too, that Gawain's brother, Agravaine, was newly come to court and had fought with thee," most of this comes out in a tipsy tumble, "I told him thou was my friend, here, and happy, which pleased him."

[sagramore]

"Agravain and I fight all the time," dismissively. "He doesn't like it when I flirt with him. And thou'rt right, I am happy."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Seems not much has changed, these two months, aside from young men come to court to be made knights. Gwen is not speaking to him, because of some other argument," he pauses. "Aside from my love for them, and that I miss them, such that it pains me like a physical wound, I cannot say he gave me much reason to miss it."

This is definitely a by-product of the palinka, though it's sincere in its way.

[sagramore]

He laughs again. "Aye, nothing changes."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am glad thou'rt happy. Laertes as well. I thank thee both."