[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

[futaille]

"Do you normally receive clandestine insults, then?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"There is entirely too much stalling," laughing, "I must know how he's dome this."

[sagramore]

"Then thou shouldst walk faster, or something. It's not my fault we're moving along so slowly."

[futaille]

"I fear it's mine. I do have the shortest legs of the three of us. My burden to bear, it seems."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I'll not carry thee," Lancelot says to Grantaire. "It's beyond thy dignity."

[sagramore]

"I will carry thee in a heartbeat, because I love thee."

[futaille]

"I would not wish to become your burden to bear. Besides, I think we'd simply end up going even more slowly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"We will argue as to which of us loves thee the more," squeezing his hand. "Which isn't worth arguing over, because if we do we shall never get any closer to the house."

[sagramore]

"Thou'rt saying Grantaire isn't worth arguing over?" in mock outrage.

[futaille]

"I don't think you have to. There's hardly a shortage."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"And anyway, that is not what I said."

[sagramore]

"Thinkst thou I twist thy words?"

[futaille]

"Words can be twisty things sometimes."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Sagramore is twisty," pointedly. "He means not to explain himself, so he creates distraction."

[sagramore]

"Wilt thou not cease to cast aspersions on me?"

[futaille]

"If it helps, you're twisty in other ways too."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I will not cease," to Sagramore. And then, to Grantaire, "I do not need details."

[sagramore]

"Sweet heart, what kind words from thee," and if this is laying it on a bit thick, well, Lancelot practically begged to be annoyed in this specific way.

[futaille]

"I was not planning on going into detail, don't worry," he says with a grin. "And thank you, Sagramore. Although you don't have to worry either. I don't want the answer to the mystery any less."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs, and drops Grantaire's hand in order to move ahead and open the door for the both of them.

[sagramore]

"Remember, we're looking for outside paint," helpfully.

[futaille]

"Yes. Outdoor paint." He steps inside.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot nods Sagramore inside as well.

[sagramore]

"Should it be all one color for the base? White, or-- that red color old pottery always is? I've never painted a castle before."

[futaille]

"It can be whatever color you want. Bright green, if you'd like."