[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 outdo him in many respects," mildly, "he is sensitive about it."

[sagramore]

"Protesting our trust, aye. I'm still older than thee, and wiser and more mature."

[futaille]

He laughs a little. "Noted on all counts." He retrieves three fluted glasses and mixes brandy and champagne in each of them, passing them out. "And enjoy."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot raises his glass, then gives Grantaire a flirtatious look. After he sips the drink he says to Sagramore, "Art only older than me here. Wiser? Mature? I can't say."

[sagramore]

Sagramore takes a drink of his own. "Thou canst not say because thou art not wise enough."

[futaille]

He grins at Lancelot's expression before sipping his own. "Now, as I have no wisdom to speak of, making this particular judgment is entirely beyond me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Know thou," he says to Grantaire, "that I am his elder. Forget that there is much he understands that I do not, and that he is more charming."

[sagramore]

"Thou art not my elder, how dare thee. I am the oldest mortal man in this house, by Christ."

[futaille]

"And now I just imagined my younger sister arriving at the age of thirty. That would be quite startling." He takes a drink.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, startling is one word for it."

[sagramore]

"It could happen! Thou shouldst be ready for it."

[futaille]

"I shall keep the possibility in mind, then."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Still-- when I departed court, Sagramore was a mere strip of a lad."

[sagramore]

"Doesn't count. Just because thou'rt from the past. Look at all this grey on me."

[futaille]

"This is quite the philosophical conundrum indeed."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"'Tis dignified."

[sagramore]

"Right, dignified and old. Stop distracting from my point, th'art as bad as me."

[futaille]

"It's all a matter of perspective. You're both the older one."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah-- to thee," knowingly, pleased with himself. But then he says, "How old art thou, Grantaire?"

[sagramore]

"He's an ageless cherub. A sprite."

[futaille]

"I am indeed both of those. However, for simplicity's sake, I'm either freshly twenty-eight or still twenty-seven, depending on how you choose to count it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot raises his eyebrows at Sagramore. "A youth!"

[sagramore]

"Don't tell me, I already worry about robbing cradles."

[futaille]

"Yes, of course, you're both my wizened elders to whom I should listen diligently."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am not wizened, but aye," easily teasing.