[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 think, perhaps," to Grantaire, "that he is afraid he cannot instruct us."

[sagramore]

"I of course can instruct thee, I'm just in the middle of something. Come and help me first."

[futaille]

"Oh, certainly! Perhaps while we're helping, you can also regale us with the tale of the fateful game in which you acquired your prodigious score."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, that seems a fair trade."

[sagramore]

"It does. Come around back." He grabs both their hands and pulls them around the house to the chicken palace, turrets, drawbridge, and all.

It is large. It is probably unnecessarily large? If it weren't a chicken palace it would make a respectable man cave, except that Sagramore would find that concept obnoxious. It's well-built, and well-girded with chicken wire. If there are any raccoons at the mansion, they will not be getting any of these (nonexistent) chickens.

[futaille]

"Sagramore! You have created Versailles for poultry."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I--" Lancelot regards it, looking faintly perplexed.

[sagramore]

"Well, I wanted them to have enough space, and then I thought, why not decorate it, Jesu knows a great plywood box in the middle of the woods isn't very charming--"

[futaille]

"So you made them a lavish estate. It's delightful. What did you need our help with?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye," laughing a little, "what can we possibly add to this masterpiece?"

[sagramore]

"I want to paint it!"

[futaille]

"Wait, you want to paint it? The whole thing? Now?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Grantaire, this is a tactic."

[sagramore]

"It isn't, I was out here contemplating it at the very moment thou didst arrive."

[futaille]

"How long have you been working on it?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot folds his arms and regards Sagramore skeptically, awaiting his answer.

[sagramore]

"In general? About a week. Thou knowst I'm hard to keep on track."

[futaille]

"Oh, of course. And how much time would you say is left?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Possibly," wryly, and with a little smile, "that depends on how fast we paint."

[sagramore]

"I want it to be beautiful. That's important."

[futaille]

Unfortunately, Grantaire is extraordinarily susceptible to being drawn in by Sagramore's nonsense. "Beautiful in what way? Just painted quite thoroughly or do you want actual designs?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I still think he is trying to distract us," Lancelot says, moving to examine the coop, "but I will help."

[sagramore]

"Thoroughly but with designs!" eagerly; he is warming to his topic. "I was thinking a base coat of paint, all right, and then we could do a-- a sort of mural of chicken accomplishments."

[futaille]

The sheer insanity of that idea strikes him like a beacon. "Accomplishments about chickens, actual accomplishments by chickens, or invented accomplishments by chickens?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot sighs, and leans against the coop to watch them collaborate.