[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.

Comments

[timebethine]

"If such a strange thing could happen to Magnus, who's adored by the general throng, then it might happen to any of us," Laertes agrees. "But we're well. Both of us. And all those we love are well, or as well as they can be."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Again, Lancelot hesitates. He wants to tell Laertes everything, he wants to talk about what he felt, but it's all over, now, and he himself has no lasting harm.

For now he stays quiet, slipping an arm around Laertes' waiting.

[timebethine]

Quietly, "Wouldst sit in my lap, and be held?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot's first impulse is to refuse -- he's no hulking mass, but neither is he small or light. Still.

"Aye," he says, shifting to do so.

[timebethine]

Neither is Laertes delicate or light--he and Lancelot are almost of a height, and similar enough in build that their differences are all but meaningless. It's easy to settle Lancelot in the dip between his thighs, to gather his legs up onto the sofa. It's easy for Laertes to wrap his arms around Lancelot's chest and to be warm and solid and sure.

[lanselos_du_lac]

It takes a moment -- he had somehow thought this conversation would go differently, and in any case did not expect this type of comfort -- but he relaxes against Laertes, letting himself feel the warmth, the security, so similar to that he feels when he's with Susan.

[timebethine]

"There thou art," he says, low and warm. He noses against Lancelot's jaw in a way that perhaps feels like a hound seeking reassurance, although his kisses are lighter and drier. "If thou hast more to say, say on. I'll listen."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lightly, though that's an effort, he says, "I would not wish to bore thee."

[timebethine]

"Canst never bore me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Set me not a challenge, for I am like to take it."

[timebethine]

"Very well." Laertes leans back, holding Lancelot's gaze.

[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."