[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.}

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[lanselos_du_lac]

He turns, glad and alight to hear Laertes' voice. "By inches?" He teases, "Can that be so?"

[timebethine]

"Ay, I see the earth freshly churned from thy labors, but my brave knight has since moved on to other pastimes." When he pulls up close, he reaches out to draw Lancelot into an embrace. "How dost thou, of late?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot wraps his arms tight around him, kisses his cheek. "Better now, to see thee."

[timebethine]

"It's been a hard time," says Laertes, a little more quietly. "I've been glad of the work of building a new home; Sagramore and I are men of action. It likes us ill, to sit in grief."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I know that Sagramore has taken it very hard," smoothing a hand down Laertes' back. "I was worried for thee, as well."

[timebethine]

"I'm not grieving," says Laertes, although the ache of it is a little like grief. "It's only ... I've never before known a place where my father's eyes were not upon me, nor where his hand did not choose for me which paths I could take. I had let myself forget that others may watch, and decide, and that I may like their choices no better than his."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"How dost thou mean?" He lets his arms settle around Laertes' waist.

[timebethine]

"Hast thou heard others speak of the 'mansion spirits'?" It feels good to be enfolded like this. The business of physical labor had let him forget, for a little while, how anxious he always is these days--but standing still for even a minute brings all those relentless fears swarming right back.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, so I have." Lancelot will encourage Laertes to lean against him a little; he's solid and warm and still probably smells a little faintly of the horses.

[timebethine]

"Then thou wilt have heard that they sport with us for their amusement. Often, they hurt us only in small ways for this sport--by forcing us to speak the truth, or bringing us visitors whom we love or hate. But of late ... they wounded Magnus gravely. They killed Shen Yuan. Those little hurts no longer please them; they crave greater suffering now. And so Sagramore and I have done with the mansion, and hope to make a quiet life in the forest hereafter."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot frowns a little, as a variety of both questions and concerns rise up within him. He holds Laertes for a long moment while he tries to sort them out. Eventually he says, "Wilt thou walk with me a while?"

[timebethine]

"With a glad heart," he says, and lets his arms fall from the embrace to take Lancelot by the hand.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot twines their fingers together, and sets off towards the woods. "So, thou hast quit the mansion?"

[timebethine]

"Not yet wholly--but soon, I fear it will be wholly. Thou wilt be welcome in our home, though."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I admit, that saddens me to hear," squeezing his fingers gently. "But, above anything, I would have the two of thee happy."

[timebethine]

"I think not that we'll be happier there--Sagramore loves other people too well; my circle of friends is smaller, but I, too, would prefer their company to the birds' and the squirrels'. But I had rather a thousand times that we be a little less happy, and alive." He squeezes back.

[lanselos_du_lac]

There's another thoughtful hesitation as they walk a few more steps. "Why hast thou concluded that these attacks are the work of the so-called mansion spirits?"

[timebethine]

"Because there was no agent to wield the weapon in either case. The weapons wielded themselves."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He frowns, "When there is mischief on the part of the spirits, it is not targeted, as these attacks clearly were."

[timebethine]

"Is it not? They brought thee Arthur."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"They did not bring someone only to me," though his tone is a little more uncertain now. "They brought Reynaldo to thee. Lucy to Susan. Grantaire's friends. Many others."

[timebethine]

"Each one of them targeted. They did not bring me someone from Denmark whom I knew not."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, but-- not each was a harm. Even Arthur... good came of that, even if it was difficult."

[timebethine]

"Ay--and Szarka is a great good, and the joy of my life," Laertes concedes. "I am grateful. Think me not ungrateful. But these spirits are creatures of whim and caprice, not of charity. They seek not what is best for us. They may yet do us greater harm for their amusement, with no more malice than a cat pouncing upon a butterfly."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That is possible," he can concede that much. It seems to him that this is not so different from the world before this one, which has its own forces that none can understand. He does not want Laertes and Sagramore to leave the mansion, and he can think of several other arguments -- but he can sense, too, that Laertes is afraid, anxious. He'll raise none of those arguments now.

They walk along for another few steps before he says, "I will do whatever I am able, for thee."