[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]

Lancelot seems faintly surprised, but he says, "Of course."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji nods, then. He folds his hands together behind his back and steps closer, prepared to follow Lancelot's lead.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot sets off, with an easily long stride, heading towards the lake.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji follows, keeping up with him easily enough. He has a way of walking that, unless something truly urgent is spurring him, allows him to move quickly but without the impression of rushing whatsoever.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He feels, for a moment, a little awkward -- as if he should keep up conversation in order not to be rude. But Lan Wangji is a man of few words, and so Lancelot lets that govern his choices; he walks in quiet for a little while, enjoying the sunlight.

[lightbearinglord]

As Lancelot has surmised, Lan Wangji is wholly content to walk in silence. Or at least to walk in quiet; it is not silent, because they are surrounded by the small sounds of the outdoors and the burgeoning spring. As they near the lake, the waves shush against the shore. In the woods and scattered amongst the trees, birds call to one another. Amidst all the loss and pain, the willow tree by the lake, where he sat and meditated with Galahad, still stirs in the wind.

[lanselos_du_lac]

As they walk along the shore, Lancelot says, "May I ask you something?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's eyes flick over to him. "Mn." He keeps walking, but awaits the question.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Is the landscape here anything like that of your home?"

[lightbearinglord]

Whatever Lan Wangji was expecting, this is not it, but it is an easy question. "Very little like it. Nor is the architectural style of the mansion."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot nods, "For me, the house is very different. The landscape, more similar. What is it like, at your home?"

[lightbearinglord]

This, too, is easy enough, especially as he has been asked it more than once here already. It has a recitative cadence by now. "The Cloud Recesses are atop a remote mountain. It is always misty. Its paths are winding. There are magnolia trees and groves of bamboo."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That sounds very peaceful."

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn." If Lan Wangji is a little wistful, and he almost certainly is, it's a subtle wistfulness. "And your home?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"There is much I miss. People I was close to, hunting and riding out in a large group. But all in all, I am happy here -- it is similar enough, outdoors, that I do not feel homesick."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's longing for Gusu has come and gone, something cyclical like the phases of the moon. He is glad, often, to be here; just as often, he yearns for the Cloud Recesses. He cannot imagine a total absence of that melancholy, but he doesn't begrudge Lancelot his contentment. "The architecture is from the West," he says. "Perhaps the landscape is, too."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Much of it is similar to Britain," he agrees, "though the woods are not as dense as some I know. I have seen plants or birds that are new to me, but the change is not drastic."

[lightbearinglord]

Britain. Lan Wangji turns the word over. He has read of it, some, but only one person here has mentioned that country to him aloud. "Do you and Sir Sagramore come from the same world?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes," with perhaps a faint note of surprise at the question. "From the same court, as well, though not the same time."

[lightbearinglord]

The same court, but not the same time. Lan Wangji can only imagine the frustrating possibilities of that. If the Wei Ying who had arrived here was one from before they were married -- it doesn't bear lengthy contemplation. "Arthur's court?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes," glancing over, with a small smile. "King Arthur's court."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji remains carefully neutral, which is luckily an easy feat for him. "Sagramore has spoken of this king to me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That does not surprise me."

[lightbearinglord]

He is curious to hear Lancelot's opinion of that same man, but the two of them are not close enough for him to pry. As it is, Lan Wangji only leaves a silence, one that Lancelot can choose to fill or not as they continue to walk.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He's quiet for a space before he says, "I think you will find our opinions differ. I understand Sagramore's point of view, I think, but to me he was a friend."

The faint hesitation before friend gives it more weight than he really intends, but he supposes there's nothing he can do about that.