[Open Post] ..hell yes i mind..

[lanselos_du_lac]

It's been a long while since Lancelot felt this way: angry and adrift, too overwhelmed and in his own head to determine how best to manage it. (If Susan were here, it would be simple -- but the fact that his Susan is gone is part of the problem.) His anger is a hot stone at his center, a roiling mess, a weapon without a target. He still feels that he would like to smash something, start a fight, find some way to externalize everything all the things he could not bring himself to say to the Galahad who is far older than he ought to be, the quiet king of a quiet kingdom.

A fulfilled purpose. A completed quest. A long chain of manipulation and events that dragged Lancelot along in its wake, and that (in this other time, he has to acknowledge, not his time and not now) led only to the ruin of everything Lancelot had cared for. And for what? It makes him furious to think that the price of the Grail was Galahad's joy, Galahad's self, and that that price was somehow being paid long before Galahad was even born.

That's just the start of it; there is more, much more, and it feels like it will keep spooling out without ceasing.

His impulse, as ever, is to stalk off to his room and stay there until he feels he can manage himself. (He thinks, not for the first time, of himself ten years older and outwardly angry, angry enough that everyone sees it, fears him or dreads his company. A man who lashes out. He does not want that future, but this possibility has always been somewhere just under the surface; he's always known it. Sometimes it has worked for him, with him, but he knows that it is dangerous and there is no one in this place that he would want to bear witness to it.) If this were Camelot, that is what he would do.

Since he can't figure what to do, he settles for a middle ground. It's been a long while since he felt like getting very deliberately drunk, but that appeals just now, and so he heads for one of the smaller bars, just off the main corridor.

^{[Note: All are welcome! Those who care for Lancelot and/or those who also wish to fistfight God are particularly welcome.]}

Comments

[vineleaves]

"That's a relief. Are you two close?" asks Dionysus, who clearly doesn't know anything about anything and was not lying when he told Lancelot that earlier.

[papadopoulos]

"Oh, he is," Apollo agrees fervently. "But he's also, y'know. The king. So it's hard to do, unless you avoid Olympus entirely."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Dost think so?" His expression shifts into concern. "I felt I was rather-- forceful."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot waits patiently, trying to shake off the last of his feeling of being off-balance.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah-- no," somewhat regretfully. "It has been somewhat challenging. But we talk, and I think things are improving between us. It is confusing, a little, because when I left court he was not yet born. But for him-- he has experience of my future."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Kings have a way of seeing who they wish, when they wish," faintly wry.

[vineleaves]

"Oh! I didn't realize he was so much younger."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Well, sweetheart," says Susan, briskly, releasing his hand so she can cup his cheek. "I imagine I'm the wrong person to ask if you worry you ought to be concerned about forcefulness."

[timebethine]

Laertes returns with two buckets, one partway full of mortar mix, the other somewhat less full of water. Lancelot will be note that both buckets have lines marked on the inside, and they're filled up approximately to the lines--Laertes has figured out the proportions he likes, and ensured that he never has to measure them out again. "Bring thou that little tub," says Laertes, pointing to small kiddie pool lying off to one side. "This is mortar mix; it's made of lime, cement, and sand, well combined. We'll mix it with this water until it becomes thick and wet, and then spread it unto the lines where thou seest the twine staked. Then we'll lay bricks atop it, in the herringbone pattern that Sagramore and I have begun."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot looks over at him, a little questioning. "Considerably, yes. He is my son."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs a little at this, "I suppose you have a point."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He does as he's told, watching with interest as Laertes mixes the mortar. It's easy enough to see how this would work. "This is a good task."

[timebethine]

"Only the best for thee." Laertes passes over the bucket with the rest of the water, as well as the little three-tined cultivator¹ that he's been using for mixing this particular batch of mortar. "Try thou."

¹ Did you know that the garden tool with tines that's often paired with a trowel is called a cultivator? Now you do!

[ninth_cavalier]

Gideon's lips thin. "In her world, only 'Specials'—their word for cops—can carry weapons, because us uglies are too stupid and dangerous to be trusted with them."

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs, and clinks their glasses together. "I think too much," he says, with a swig of whiskey. "My brother used to say that a man who thinks too much is dangerous¹, and he was right, in my case. But I'm a danger to myself, as well."

¹ That's Julius Caesar, actually, but same vibe.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I don't see anything wrong with forcefulness when the situation calls for it," says Susan. She strokes her thumb over his cheekbone, lingering, and then drops her hand to his shoulder so she can give it a reassuring squeeze. "You were concerned. It seems the situation called for it."

[vineleaves]

"... Are you -- huh, well, uh. I didn't -- he's seriously your kid?" And nobody has thought to tell Dionysus this little fact yet? He was supposed to just come to this conclusion all on his very own?? "I just thought you knew him because you're both from, y'know." He gestures vaguely. "I didn't realize he's -- oh, but wait, you said he wasn't even born yet for you. That's -- I imagine that was an awkward conversation, to say the least."

A not-insignificant part of Dionysus is wondering if any of his kids will ever show up. That would be nice. He misses them.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He sets to it, occasionally glancing to Laertes for guidance or pausing to ask a question, but like many other things he is a quicker study than he thinks.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Uglies?" Lancelot looks a little baffled, but he waves a hand and asks instead, "Art thou well? Not badly hurt?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh, I can think overmuch about some things, but I rarely spent time considering God, what His plans might be, and so on. I went to Mass, of course, but my focus was elsewhere."

He could admit, too, that there have been times when he has acted without thinking at all, and at those times he has done harm to himself or someone else... but today is not the day for that sort of admission to Claudius.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I was concerned, I suppose, but moreso I was furious." This has the air of a confession, somehow.

[ninth_cavalier]

"Nah. I mean, the black eye is pretty impressive, under the paint, and I lost a tooth. And she got me in the side with her freaky nails, but that's just a scratch." She shakes her head ruefully. "It mainly sucks for, uh, other reasons." Lancelot knows she meets up with Tally after their morning sparring sessions; she doesn't know whether or not he knows it's for make-out purposes as well as self-defense ones, and she's not gonna ask.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot scoffs a little -- sure, let's say it was awkward -- and takes a drink. "I am sorry. I thought everyone knew. I knew Sagramore because we were both from Camelot, but when I arrived here I did not know of Galahad at all."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Lost a tooth? Christ!" He frowns. "She is thy friend. I can understand some of those other reasons. I am sorry."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

And yet Susan doesn't see why it ought to be a confession. It seems perfectly natural, to be furious in the face of an uncaring God who has hoodwinked your family. "Of course you were," she says, squeezing his shoulder again.