lanselos_du_lac | [Semi-Closed Post] Sadmas Aftermath

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.]

Current Mood: crushed

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From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot moves a little toward her, even as she steps away. "I think, in honesty, he understood me well," thoughtfully. "In terms of what I told him. But-- thou wert on my mind, and I did not mention thee. Only because... well. If he was right, there was no sense in him carrying this back to the queen. It would change nothing, between us, and would only serve to hurt her more."

He gives her a searching look. "I just knew that, given the choice, I am happier here. Hard as that went."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

Susan listens to this last, and then nods to herself and leans back against him. "I miss London," she confesses, more quiet than strident, now. "There are people there that I love, too. But-" But that's not getting her meaning across, she thinks, so she adjusts course. "When Lucy was here she told me about how things are going, in Aslan's country. That's what she kept calling it: Aslan's country. Aslan, the great Lion of Narnia, like as not - nevermind. She's in Aslan's country, because she's dead, and Narnia is also apparently no more. My entire family wants for nothing, according to Lucy. They all have exactly what they need and it doesn't occur to them to change, or want, or anything like that, because everything is perfect and all their possible desires are immediately met, and I keep thinking-" She hides her face in his shirt for a moment, steeling herself. "I keep thinking about how jolly bloody miserable that sounds."

Edited Date: 2023-12-21 04:39 am (UTC)

From:

lanselos_du_lac

He smooths a hand down her back, gathers her in, presses his cheek to her hair. For a moment, he is overcome.

"Aye," he says, very softly. "I think I understand thee."

Then he enfolds her in his arms, lets out a long breath. (They can talk, later, about the shape of this. Of what it means. He admits, he doesn't know. What matters most is that she did not walk away from him. She didn't shut him out. That she is here in his arms, and it doesn't need to mean anything specific, except that they care for one another.)

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

Susan lets herself be held. There is more that she would say, more that she would ask, but for now she is quiet and warm.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot keeps her there, relaxing against her.

After a little space of time he says, "Thou hast made me happy, given me new things to consider. I miss them, dreadfully. But here, at least, I think I can try something else."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"Oh?" says Susan. "What next for Sir Lancelot?"

From:

lanselos_du_lac

He laughs a little, "Anything. Something good."

Lancelot draws away a little, bringing one hand up to lift her chin, lightly. "I know not what might pass between thee and me. I only know I would not leave thee. Whatever that means, we can both decide. But thou has shown me-- some way I could both know myself and not know my next step. I like that."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"A wise man told me something once. Would you like to hear it?"

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Aye, I would, very much."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"We are meant to understand things in pieces," Susan says - a little impishly, in truth; she hopes he recognizes that she's quoting what he said that terrible day she first remembered Narnia back to him.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot does recognize this, and he laughs -- with more sincere delight and joy than he has since he woke up several mornings ago to find Arthur vanished.

He brushes her cheek, "Lady, I believe I said perhaps-- but no matter. Thou'rt correct."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

Though Susan has found it easier to smile recently, she still largely defaults to the simple, easily-fixed flirtatious smile or - increasingly - the small, ugly but genuine one.

It must be said, now, that she beams up at Lancelot. "I believe I warned you once, sir, that you'll find I often am."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Aye, I recall that, too." He can't help himself -- he kisses her forehead, brushing her cheek again. His smile, his expression, is no longer tentative but warm.

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"Good!" Susan tangles her hand in the fabric of his cloak, relief suffusing her as she watches his expression shift. "I'm very wise, you know."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Queen Susan the Wise, aye, I've heard tell of thee."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"At least they're no longer calling me Susan the Gentle," Susan laughs, though privately she wonders if things may have turned out differently, if any of the four of them had been Wise. "I have little use for gentleness any more."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Thou'rt gentle with me, for which I am grateful." Then, because he doesn't mean this to sound like he's arguing with her, he says, "Thou hast my thanks, for hearing me. I think-- I think things may be difficult for me, for some while, but when it comes to thee I have no regrets."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

Susan lets the compliment drift away on the scant air between them - she doesn't feel as if she's been particularly gentle with Lancelot; more a slap-dash accumulation of bitter memories and earnest efforts to once more be a person that she, herself, enjoys spending time with. He helps with that. He's quite good at drawing her outside of herself for just enough that she can get another fingerhold on her old self. Perhaps that's what he means - she feels, maybe, that they might be kindred in this way, and perhaps that feels to him like a gentleness.

"I would hear more, if you wanted to say more."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

He lets her go, though he keeps her hand, tucking it into his arm as they start to walk again.

"Well," considering, "is there aught thou wouldst know? Wouldst ask?"

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"Oh," she hesitates. "Nothing in particular." She's not even sure what to ask, or how to ask it. "Only I wanted to be sure to know that if there's more on your mind, you can say it."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Ah," he lets his hand settle over hers on his arm. "I thank thee. Tell me, though, of thyself these last few days."

From:

quote_gentle_unquote

"I found a bow," she says then, hushed at the thought of it. "Three, actually. And a quiver full of many sorts of arrows. I've gotten jolly rusty in the past nine years."