[Open Post] ..only want to glean the purpose..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Since they learned of Shen Yuan's death, things have been subdued; rightly so, Lancelot reasons. He has done what he can to be a support for those he loves, and to keep his own worry and anxiety at bay. He worries about how they are all doing, about whether or not they are safe, about what he can do to make anything better -- which often feels like nothing. It's unsettling, and he wants to stay settled and present for them, so he determines to find a way to be so.

As has always been the case for him, being outside helps. The weather is warming and true spring is settling in. (He has difficulty keeping track of what time may be like back in Britain¹, but he suspects that it is early summer there. If so, then he supposes that means he is another year older, which is a strangely hopeful thought.) And so, after his lunch with Susan, he heads back out -- he might ride, or walk through the woods, or explore the lake. Whatever keeps him out in the sunshine, under the sky.



^{1: He has not quite realized this yet, but he has generally stopped thinking "at home" when he means Camelot, or Britain in general. That this place -- no, these people -- have become home in so short a span is something he has to take by degrees, lest he worry about what it means for his relationship with those he left behind there.}

Comments

[aflashbastard]

"Normally? It's a toy. Currently? Unsure."

Noo-boh blinks at Lancelot. Me Noo-boh.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Hello... Noo-boh." He is obviously deeply confused.

[aflashbastard]

Noo-lah doo? Noo-boh asks Lancelot, blinking twice.

"Lan Wangji, Grantaire, and I found him. We were looking for rabbit ears."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"What is he saying?"

[aflashbastard]

"Wish I knew," Crowley tells him. "You think I'd be able to understand it, being a demon and all, and the mansion would be able to translate it... but apparently Furbish is a step too far. I think he's learning English though. Slowly."

Noo-boh nods, agreeing with Crowley. Ay-ay-lee-koo! Noo-boh. Learn.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That's-- very good." In spite of his misgivings, he comes closer to get a better look at the creature. "Are you teaching him?"

[aflashbastard]

"No, not at all. I think he's just... picking things up. Listening." That's not creepy at all. Noo-boh blinks a few times, as if in agreement.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Well, I suppose it is how any of us learned to speak."

[aflashbastard]

Oo-nye boe doo? Noo-boh asks, wiggling his ears.

"Not me," Crowley says cheerfully. "I just instinctively know all languages known to human."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah. Yes. Demon," he says, surprisingly mildly, all things considered.

He addresses Noo-boh, making an effort to project that this is a real conversation, "I cannot understand you, but I am glad you wish to learn."

[aflashbastard]

Crowley allows Lancelot and Noo-boh to have their conversation, wondering who created this creature in its pitiful form, without any arms or legs that can really even walk. Clearly someone who isn't a fan of intelligent design.

Ee-day, Noo-boh says to Lancelot. Noo-noo ee-tay. Talk!

[lanselos_du_lac]

He glances up at Crowley, "Do you talk to it? Him?"

[aflashbastard]

"Him," Crowley offers. "I do talk to him, but I can't really understand him. He's been spending most of his time in the game room if you ever want to pick him up and take him out."

Boo-noo-loo, Noo-boh says plaintively, at this.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot addresses Noo-boh directly again, "Do you mean to say you're lonely, in the game room?"

[aflashbastard]

Noo-boh lets out a big sigh and then says Uh-huh in a more monotone, robotic voice.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Well," glancing at Crowley, "we shall make sure to include you when we venture to game."

[aflashbastard]

Crowley makes a gesture as if to say Don't look at me, this is between you and Noo-boh.

Wah! Noo-boh exclaims, happily. Kah mee-mee noo-loo.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Err," a hesitation, "yes."

[aflashbastard]

Noo-boh nods and blinks his eyes a few times, happy to have found a good friend.

"I think he likes you," Crowley tells Lancelot, in real tempting-snake-in-the-garden-of-Eden tones. He pauses for a moment to really sell it. "You know, he needs a home, you obviously get along well... Why don't you take him home with you?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs, "Ah, no, I think Susan would not appreciate that. Nor would the cat, most likely. If I was still on my own... perhaps."

[aflashbastard]

"Susan appreciates technology," Crowley says, with a shrug. "She seemed thrilled when I gave her my phone."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am not certain this counts as 'technology'."

[aflashbastard]

Dah-way! Noo-boh exclaims, interrupting Crowley, who looks mildly impressed that Lancelot knows what technology is after not knowing what paperwork was.

"I'm sure he's got wires and all the other fiddly bits inside, but I suppose the question is, is he just technology?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Clearly not," simply.

[aflashbastard]

"I don't know, AI is pretty realistic these days." If Crowley was still concerned with staying in Hell's good graces¹, he would wish that he had invented ChatGPT. That one's all down to humans, though.

¹An oxymoron: it doesn't exist.