[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

[onthewillowsthere]

"You weren't like that. With me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

His expression shifts to something sadder, softer. "Will you tell me? What that was like?"

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad hesitates. It's been a long time since his Lancelot's coldness hurt him, a long time since he craved his approval. The matter between them is, to his mind resolved, and when he thinks of the things Claudius said Laertes told him about Lancelot (shy, not aloof, not permitted to share the world; a smile like a secret; he bows under the weight of what is expected of him) Galahad wonders whether he's the one now who could withhold longed-for approval. He still feels a grain of responsibility for Lancelot's happiness, after being the cause of his rough beginning in this place, even though Lancelot has friends now, even lovers.

He shakes his head.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot nods, looking down for a moment. He will respect that answer and he won't ask again, though at the moment it makes him feel lost, like there's some part of his memory he can't touch. (In truth, though he won't think of it this way for some time, this is far better. He does not need another list of sins he has yet to commit waiting to bear down on him again, another list of actions to feel responsible and guilty for.)

He resists the urge to take a very long drink and instead says quietly, "I am sorry that I was not the kind of father that would have helped you. I think, perhaps, things might have gone differently, had I known earlier on. I would not have wanted your mother to send you away."

[onthewillowsthere]

"You were sent away."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes, but that was only after my father had died, and we were landless. My mother sent me somewhere that I would be able to be trained as I should be and watched over. It was not the happiest time in my life, but I had my cousins and a purpose."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Tell me about your cousins."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Bors and Lionel," smiling a little. "Did you know them, at court?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"A little. Bors quested with us sometimes."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"He is my dearest friend from childhood."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Percival said he would have been a good priest. He was patient."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, he was that. He gave good counsel. He could make me laugh. Lionel was often serious, as I was, but Bors made things easier. He and I were closer in age, as well."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Do you miss him?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes, of course."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Tell me a story about him," he orders.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot chuckles a little, at that note of command, but he says, "Aye. I will." He takes a moment to think, sipping his drink as he does, and then says, "I do not know that I was serious, as a very small child, but by the time we were with my foster mother, I certainly was. Bors could tend toward seriousness as well, but he was always much more willing to bend a rule. We had a swordmaster, Perig, who had at us work for hours, every day, and Bors had a way of impersonating him when his back was turned, aping him where only Lionel and I could see."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Did he make you laugh?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh, yes-- though it was almost like a game, to see which of us could hold out, so that none of us were scolded."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Were you caught?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Less often than Lionel was, but yes."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Lionel was caught the most?" surprised; Lionel is always very serious around him.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Lionel was younger than both of us-- and brothers can prod one another very effectively. He was at a disadvantage."

[onthewillowsthere]

He tries to imagine what it would be like to have a younger brother to tease and be teased by, and then wonders if that's what he already has with Magnus and Shen Yuan. The idea pleases him. "Did he get in trouble?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"We all did, now and then. But Perig expected that, I think-- we took things seriously, most of the time. We all three of us knew how important it was to be as good as we could be."

[onthewillowsthere]

"So he allowed it."