[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

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I don't know," simply. "It doesn't trouble me, exactly. I think it's-- perhaps I worry that if something were to go awry, here, that things might go in a similar direction."

[timebethine]

"Thou hast fast friends who will keep thee," says Laertes. "Thou hast Susan, and Sagramore, and Grantaire, and me--and we'll hold thee fast, an thou shouldst fail."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gives him a small smile. "It's true, I have many more friends, and dearer ones, here than I ever did at court. Still... my friends there could not reach me, just before I left. I hope it would not be the same here."

[timebethine]

"It haunts thee--the shadow of what has not come to pass." By now, they're close to the lake; Laertes pulls Lancelot down on the iron-and-wood bench overlooking the water, and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He leans into him, "Aye, I suppose it does. It has not come to pass, for me, but for others here-- Sagramore, for one -- it has. I can't quite make sense of that."

[timebethine]

"In the story I'm meant to live, my sister takes her own life," says Laertes softly. "Claudius becomes king of Denmark; I know not what becomes of me, except that I die full of sorrow. I must believe that this end is not fated--that in coming here, I've changed not only my own course, but hers, as well. We know what we are, but know not what we may be."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot reaches for Laertes' free hand, brings it up to kiss his knuckles. "I think that must be true, for thee and thine, given that Claudius is here and remembers what thou dost. It sits uneasy with me, though, that Sagramore and Galahad have a different recollection or future. It seems to me it has happened already, though it did not happen to me. Still-- I am grateful for what I have here, now. For thee."

[timebethine]

"It hasn't happened for thee, so it hasn't happened," says Laertes firmly. "Think not that thou must atone for the sins of thy shadow."

[lanselos_du_lac]

At this, Lancelot turns a little more toward him, the smile settling in, warm and fond. "This is a thing I love about thee," quietly, "thou dost hold firm to thy beliefs, to whatever is in thy heart, and thou wilt not be moved."

[timebethine]

"It's easier than I'd thought it would be," says Laertes. "All my life, my father raised me to moderation--but I am not in my heart a moderate man. I seek a redoubt to defend with my life." He nestles in closer ... then suddenly bursts into laughter. "Last time we two were here, I threatened to kill thee. Christ, what an ass I was."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs as well, though it's a little bewildered. "Didst thou? I do not recall it."

[timebethine]

"For Galahad's sake. When I learned thou hadst struck him." He shifts the arm around Lancelot's back to card his fingers carefully through Lancelot's hair. "But he does not see the man he knew in Camelot. He sees the man thou art becoming--a stranger, perhaps, and one who may err, but not some grim specter of dread. A man who deserves to begin anew, unsullied by those long years of suffering."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah, now I recall," resting a hand on Laertes' thigh. "I hope thou'rt correct." He pauses very briefly before adding, "That feels very nice."

[timebethine]

"My hand in thy hair?" He presses just a little harder, massaging with his fingertips.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Mmhmmm," he closes his eyes and lets himself bask in it for a moment.

[timebethine]

It's easy to indulge him. Laertes turns toward him, mouth soft against his jaw, legs splayed to welcome that hand on his thigh, and rubs his fingers in slow, soothing circles behind Lancelot's ear.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou wouldst tempt me," quiet and fondly amused.

[timebethine]

A smile against his cheek. "Wouldst be tempted?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I cannot see how it can be avoided," turning to catch Laertes' mouth in a proper kiss.

[timebethine]

It fills Laertes with a joy like sunlight, to see Lancelot so uncomplicatedly happy--to see him teasing and flirting, to feel his kiss and know that he wants Laertes enough to be brave. He gathers Lancelot against him with a glad little sigh, still stroking his hair.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot lets the kiss draw out, almost lazily, kissing him deeply and indulgently, squeezing his thigh gently.

[timebethine]

And when they part, Laertes is grinning helplessly. "Now I fear I've been tempted, almost beyond resisting."

[lanselos_du_lac]

His voice is soft, a little husky, "Hast thou?"

[timebethine]

He lays a hand on Lancelot's chest, sliding it down at a tauntingly slow pace. "Ay, sir, restrain me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

That little flush. "And if I should not?"