[Closed Post] ..shining through the hollow..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Once Lancelot has left Magnus and Galahad in the greenhouse, he goes looking for Laertes. He can admit he has had the urge to check in on everyone, in the wake of Magnus' incident, but he has realized that it's been some days and he misses Laertes' company.

So he goes seeking, checking in on the places he thinks Laertes might be, and eventually finding him in that same parlor they'd sat together in before. Lancelot pauses in the doorway, and then clears his throat and says, "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

Despite the clear fact that he intends to interrupt. He is grinning.

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[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs a little, then sighs. He decides it's better to just be frank. "I had not been that close to such a grave wound in... a long while."

[timebethine]

As he listens, Laertes strokes Lancelot's back--long, sure, soothing strokes. "It struck thee to the marrow."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, and-- well. If Magnus was not frightened, I was frightened for him."

[timebethine]

Quietly, "He looks like just a boy."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, though I was a boy myself when I first took the field. And he has experience of battle-- still. None of us expect it, here, and I cannot figure how it happened."

[timebethine]

"If the science of future eras can be trusted, it was no accident," says Laertes, still hushed. "A blade could not have fallen thus, and pinned him thus, without some hand wielding it. Some sorcery lies behind this attack, but I know not what."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I did what I could to provide Lan Wangji with information. I took the sword and some of the glass to him." He settles his head on Laertes' shoulder. "But if it is indeed sorcery, then I know not how we would come to understand it."

[timebethine]

"Has anyone spoken to Nightingale? His work is in finding answers for magical crimes--I can think of no better man to investigate."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh," sitting up a little, "I don't know. I shall have to ask Lan Wangji."

[timebethine]

"And I'll ask Nightingale. I study under him; he knows me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Is that so? I've only met him once, really, when--" A puzzling expression flits across his face. "When he and Susan were exchanged."

[timebethine]

The series of emotions that flits across Laertes's face cannot be called a face journey. It is a face Odyssey. There are triumphs and reversals, sweeping and epic conflicts between gods; the voyage claims many lives. When at last he arrives at his destination, he is forever changed. "Ah," he says at last, awkwardly. "Then I imagine thou wouldst prefer not to see him."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gives a little shake of his head. "I-- it would be all right, I think." This comes out more like a question. "He was very kind and practical. It-- well."

[timebethine]

With a gentleness that belies his blunt words, he says, "It reminded thee of Corbenic."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Of course," simply.

[timebethine]

"Sweet-heart." A kiss to his cheeks. "These last months have been full of trials for thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot chuckles, reaching up to comb a hand through Laertes' hair. "And I have not even told thee of the rest," he says, lightly. "There have also been trials for thee-- for all of us, I am sure. It is the way of things."

[timebethine]

"Then may we always have one another, that we might together weather our trials," says Laertes. "I'm glad thou canst laugh."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"It has been some few days, but aye. And I found I missed thee."

[timebethine]

"Oh?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes. I would have come to see thee sooner, to make sure thou'rt well, but I was unwell and Susan enforced rest." This last is also a bit joking; he was too spent to do anything except rest, and he's grateful for Susan's care.

[timebethine]

"Then we've both been our lovers' inmates--but now that thou seest me well, thy work is done." He shows no sign of wanting to let Lancelot go.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot shows no desire to be elsewhere; if anything, he leans a little more against him.

"'Inmate' seems dire. But-- wert thou also unwell?"

[timebethine]

"It's nothing," says Laertes, although he immediately qualifies it with, "Sagramore hath a great worry for my headaches. They've been worse, this season. Not three days go by without one, of late."

[lanselos_du_lac]

His brow furrows, "That sounds not like 'nothing.' What are they like, for thee?"