[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

[sagramore]

"Well, we could start with the base coat today and maybe sketch some of the chicken accomplishments? Or do a layout for it, I've got all this drafting paper." He bumps his shoulder fondly against Lancelot's. "Jousting."

[futaille]

"Perfect. I can already think of-- wait. No no wait. Base coat, then pinball, then working on the layout."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot elbows Sagramore gently. "At last! Someone is speaking sense again."

[sagramore]

"I can accept that. Hast thou paint we can use? --Or, no, is it a different sort of paint?"

[futaille]

"There is a different sort of paint."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"What sort of difference?"

[sagramore]

"Enlighten us."

[futaille]

"To start with, artists' paints come in very small tubes."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah, obviously not enough for this."

[sagramore]

"So we'd use those for the fine details and something else for the base?"

[futaille]

"Exactly. Something like house paint or even whitewash."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Doubtless we can find such things."

[sagramore]

"Doubtless! Grantaire's very good at getting things to appear."

[futaille]

"Not more than anyone else is in particular, but yes, I'm sure we should be able to find the right paint."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"It helps to know what one is looking for."

[sagramore]

"Wilt thou be our guide?" to Grantaire. "We can go to the house and look."

[futaille]

"I would be delighted."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles at him and pushes himself to his feet. "Guide us, then," he says, taking Grantaire's hand.

[sagramore]

Sagramore, purposefully playful, takes Grantaire's other hand. "Aye, lead on."

[futaille]

"Off we go, then!" He squeezes each of their hands and starts back off toward the main building.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, he ought to drag us," Lancelot says to Sagramore, "or thou shouldst carry us both."

[sagramore]

"I'm not that strong. Laertes probably could."

[futaille]

"As luck would have it, my legs do happen to work."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Good fortune, indeed."

[sagramore]

"Very well, thou'rt spared for now. This is marvelous, I really did want thy help with this."